Page 8 - The Letter By Ann Newhouse

bottle of Shiraz, our favourite. It was chilled, ready for our supposed romantic night in. I put the bottle to my quivering lips and downed half the bottle, coughing and choking as the wine hit the back of my throat. I closed my eyes and darkness took over. Hearing the sound of Tony’s B.M.W. screeching out of the courtyard. I could almost feel the anger in him, at me for nagging.
‘I do love you Amber, but I can’t marry you now or ever’, he mumbled to himself. He knew he would have to explain to her tomorrow, he felt bad and needed to be alone.
Woken by the sound a bell ringing, over and over I realized it was the doorbell. I fumbled around sleepy, still fully dressed, to answer it. Stumbling down the stairs, dazed and still feeling the effects of the wine, I opened the door to find myself face to face with two uniformed police.
‘Amber Shankey?’
‘Yes’.
‘We regret to inform you there has been a fatal accident involving a Mr. Tony O’Keefe’.
‘Tony?’
‘No....NO, TONY!!’
I could hear myself scream. Then everything went dark.
The familiar sound of a voice brought me back from oblivion.
‘Amber love it’s OK, you just fainted’.
Struggling to get up I realised I was wearing a black dress I didn’t recognise. Feeling a little strange I checked my surroundings. My bed, my room but why was Sherry, my best friend sitting on my bed?