David Vaughan Fielding

He had borrowed my car. He planned to drive to Manchester to play in a football tournament with friends. Football match on Midsummer’s Day.  

He left the house with enough time to collect his teammates and I felt no fear as he left as I had confidence in the high standard of his driving.

The phone rang. I answered expecting Andrew’s voice. The caller was a policeman who told me of a collision involving my car at 2.30pm. He asked me to meet him as soon as possible at the local hospital.

I called my wife at the school where she taught and asked her to meet me at the hospital. She arrived just after 4pm. We clung to each other as the Superintendent told us what he knew about the collision.

We asked: “Is he dead?”. The doctor quietly nodded in response to our question.

We asked if we could see him and were taken to him. He lay on his back, his body covered by a white sheet with his big feet sticking out.

Apart from a small spot of blood in one ear, he looked as handsome as ever and looked asleep.

We kissed him amid floods of tears and told him how much we loved him, despite the shock of seeing our first child dead.

Now we needed to tell his vulnerable brothers and the rest of our family and friends the dreadful news which changed all our lives forever.