A Widow's Story
By John Morris
On the 23rd November 2007 Penny Thomas waived goodbye to her husband, Steve, just as she had done almost every day for the six years since they moved into Nightingale Crescent. Today he was exactly on time, leaving the house at ten past eight. He even paused for a moment to make a joke about the new (and very pink) wallpaper in the nursery, "Well, if it is a boy," he said, "he'll probably want to be a gardener, like his uncle." With that, Steve set off into the dank November morning.
Number 26 was the Thomas' dream home. It was only a mile from the station from where Steve caught the 8:31 to London Bridge and everything they needed was close by. Surburbia had its attractions. Since moving-in they had spent a month of Sundays renovating the property but now, at last, it was looking 'straight' and they were entertaining friends more often. Those long weekends working on the house had paid off and they'd saved a packet by doing it all themselves.
Penny was expecting her friend, Julie to drop by at 10:30. They were going Christmas shopping and hoped to have lunch with Steve whilst in town. So, when the door bell rang at 10:20 she didn't think anything of it. "Come in, I'm nearly ready...," she said as she opened the door whilst at the same time reaching down for her umbrella. But then she noticed that it wasn't Julie. For there in the doorway stood a young WPC. She looked so young, as though she had only just emerged from Hendon. For what seemed like an eternity the two stood and looked at each other.
"Mrs Thomas?" the young officer finally enquired. Penny was brought out of her trance-like state. "Mrs Penny Thomas?"
"What? Oh, yes," she said, hesitantly. Her eyes locked onto the eyes of the young WPC once again. This time, she noticed compassion in her eyes. "What is it, is it my Stevie?"
"Yes. May I come in?" At that, Penny felt her legs begin to go weak and immediately turned and led the officer into the living room. The officer's polished shoes made almost no sound as she followed Penny along the newly carpeted hallway and into the lounge.
Penny stopped in front of the fireplace and turned towards the officer. Now she trembled and then she began to shake. Tunnel vision seemed to exclude everything that happened next. "Sit down, Mrs Thomas. Sit down."
The
officer sat next to Penny on the settee and held her hand tightly whilst she asked her to describe Steve. Then she broke the news that Steve had been involved in a road traffic accident just outside London Bridge station. A lorry had been backing up the slope to make way for a delivery van and the driver's foot had slipped off the clutch pedal causing the lorry to shoot back. Steve had been squeezing between the lorry and the taxi behind it on his way to the office and had been crushed. Despite the frantic efforts of passers-by, the abulance crew and staff from nearby St Thomas' Hospital who had rushed to help, Steve had died at the scene. Penny screamed, "No, no, no! Not Steve, not my Stevie." It was then that Penny's friend, Julie, arrived and hearing Penny's screams, rushed in.
Over the days and months that followed the reality of what had happened began to sink in. Little Stevie was born in March, the image of his father.
But another reality also set in, the financial reality. Penny and Steve had arranged life assurance cover but then in the confusion caused by the on-going work on their house they hadn't put the plan into effect. They were desperate to save money and had put off the commencement date for another six months until the work on the house was finished. There was a death in service payment from Steve's company but that had not even paid off the mortgage. Now, Penny was at a loss. She had a mortgage and a baby but no Steve and no income.
Ten months after Steve died, there was another ring of the door bell. Penny was not expecting any friends; Julie had long since stopped coming round and others had also deserted her. Penny was so lonely. So, it was with relief and resignation that she saw the removal van draw up to the drive to take her remaining possessions to her mother's house.
The house was repossessed almost a year to the day after Steve had died. Penny went back to live with her parents who looked after little Stevie during the day whilst Penny worked at the local supermarket. She chose that job so she could spend as much time with little Stevie as possible.
The IFA that Penny and Steve had approached to arrange life assurance cover sent flowers to the funeral. As the years went by, Penny often wondered how different things would have been had they actually put the life assurance plan into effect so that the IFA could have brought a cheque to the house in the days after Steve's death.
She remembered that the IFA said that, "if anything happens to either one of you there will be enough money to pay off the mortgage and invest the rest for income and growth." That sentence kept going around in her head. He had calculated the amount of capital required to replace Steve's salary and what it would cost Steve if anything had happened to her. The premium was only about £38 per month. Imagine that, income and growth all the way through to little Stevie going to college. If only they had set that plan up. If only. If only...
"Penny! Wake up, it's time to leave. Come on. If we don't hurry we'll be late," said the voice whispering in her ear. It was Steve putting the Saturday paper next to a cup of her favourite coffee on the bedside table. "You don't want to be late to see your Mum, do you?" he continued. "You know she always gets a great lunch together when we visit; she's probably already at the supermarket so let's not be late." As he drew back the curtains the low winter sun flooded into the room.
"Uh, oh. What?
As Penny woke up she became aware that she'd had the most dreadful dream.
"I think I've been dreaming," she said as Steve at last settled back on the bed.
"What about?"
"That you had died in a horrible accident and we didn't have enough life assurance cover. It was dreadful. I was miserable and had to take care of little Stevie all by myself."
"Stevie!", Steve exclaimed. "Stevie! So it is going to be a boy; I told you the colour of the nursery was wrong..."
"Don't worry about the colour of the nursery. That can easily be changed. But please call The Harvest Partnership the first thing on Monday when you get into the office will you and let's get that life assurance plan started. I just don't want to take the chance any longer."
"Ok, Ok, I know. I've been thinking the same thing", Steve chuckled as he quietly slid the newspaper away from her.
Penny drifted off back to sleep.
©2009 The Harvest Partnership Ltd
Events depicted in this story are ficticious.
The Harvest Partnership is dedicated to helping clients achieve their financial objectives. So, whether you have a lump sum to invest for income and growth, or perhaps your pension funds are in need of review, we can offer professional and independent advice and then put that advice into effect in the most effective way.
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