But now she had won.
She gave a little skip. He wouldn’t find her. By the time he came back from Edinburgh she would be long gone. In spite of herself she glanced behind, down the road that would bring him home. What if the conference finished early? What if he was unwell and came back? Everything – the whole thing – depended on his being away until the weekend. Her stomach clenched, the urge to run now was overwhelming.
It was fine. It was all fine. He wasn’t coming, she had judged it right.
The cottage on the coast was booked and there was no reason for him to ever think of the little out of the way place she had chosen in Cornwall. After that it was France and the lovely place in the countryside, already hers, bought online. It had been a massive risk but desperation made her brave at last. The rest of the money would keep things ticking over a good while and by the time she needed to earn some more then the holiday flats would be set up. Thank God for school French and for Google information and hours and hours alone in the house. It was thrilling and scary and wonderful.
She glanced at her watch. Three hours until the bus was due at the country stop. A car sped past heading towards the village. She turned her face away, just in case. She hadn’t recognised the vehicle. It was going far too fast for the narrow road, probably an outsider.
As she breasted the brow of the hill a frown wrinkled her forehead. “Oh no!” A motor bike was slewed across the road. Deep gouges scarred the black surface and the body of a sheep lying in a thickening pool of blood painted a picture that was all too clear.
Where the hell was the rider?
He must be in the ditch. She leapt forward. The sheep was quite dead, thank heavens. It was one less thing to cope with but where the hell was the rider? She ran along the side of the road peering down into the water weed and grass. He must be here somewhere! Unless he had come off and been lucky enough to walk away? No, if that was the case then he would surely have moved the bike. The sheep carcass might be beyond many people but the bike was lying across the highway, leaking petrol and oil.
She darted back and forth across the narrow road. There! She spotted him dumped in the ditch like a broken doll. Tripping and sliding she scrambled down the embankment into the cold, brackish flow of water at the bottom. Her hiking boots would keep the water out but she had to kneel to reach the motionless body. Cold seeped through the knees of her blue linen trousers. She reached a hand towards him. Oh shit don’t let him be dead. “Hello, hello, can you hear me?”
Chapter 2
He was cold. The ditch water was chilly despite the heat of the day. The rider had landed with his legs in the muddy mess and his torso and head against the bank. She knew she mustn’t move him and mustn’t take off the safety helmet. The leather of his jacket was stiff as she pushed back the sleeve. She knew where to look for a pulse and as she felt the faint but regular beat Pauline weakened with relief.
She slipped a hand into her trouser pocket. “Shit.” The phone was sitting on the table in the hall.
The man shivered and groaned. On the one hand this was a huge relief but out here in the middle of nowhere she needed medical aid quickly. His mobile was the only option. He must have one, everyone had one. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” Though she didn’t think he could hear her, apology came automatically to her lips as she reached for the pockets in his jeans. They were torn, how odd that the stress of the accident had done that, the white lining was flapping out at one side. She felt in the cold water, perhaps his phone had flown out. Would it be ruined by the fall, the water? It wasn’t there anyway and so she must think again. Tears fell across her cheeks, tears of fear and shock and frustration but she had to ignore them. Tears wouldn’t help him.
She pushed back and lifted her head to peer over the top of the ditch. Her glance skittered across the grassy bank and the roadway. He had been thrown a long way. One of his gloves was lying between them and the bike but no phone.
Panic threatened. She beat it back.
She leaned to him patting and rooting, he must have a phone. A tiny cable snaked from the side of his helmet and down into a slim pocket at the top of his jacket – “Yes.” She dragged out the Nokia and unplugged the helmet device.
She was still in familiar territory and so gave clear directions to the ambulance service. The dispatcher asked the obvious questions. Was he breathing? – Yes. Was his airway clear? – Yes. Was he conscious? – No, Was he bleeding? – Not as far as she could see but he was shivering now and groaning. They told her to keep him warm.
She scrambled up to the road and dragged out her jacket. Back in the ditch she tucked it round him, careful to keep it out of the water. It wouldn’t be warming if it was damp. She thought he tried to open his eyes. “Hello. Can you hear me?” No response. “I’m Pauline, you’re okay. The ambulance is coming.” She didn’t know whether he could hear but it helped to talk to him and draw some strength from the sound of her own voice.
The birds had been quiet when she first came across the scene but now they had begun to call and sing. It was surreal to sit in a wet ditch holding the hand of a stranger and sending out fearful wishes for him not to die. Waiting and praying for the ambulance to be quick and the whole horrible episode to be over while above her the birds sang into the great basin of blue sky and bees buzzed in the blossom lining the roadside.
“My name’s Pauline. I have just come down the road. I think you might be hurt so you need to keep still.” There was still no response but she kept going. Maybe he could hear her. Maybe it would help him to know that he wasn’t alone. “I don’t normally come down here in the middle of the day. It gets too hot. Not enough shade on the roadside. Mind you perhaps that’s a good thing. It would have been awful if you’d hit a tree.
“The sheep is dead. Don’t feel bad, they wander all over the road, there are some killed every year. I expect the farmer will claim on his insurance.
“The ambulance shouldn’t be long. I think it’s about twenty minutes from town. I’ve asked them to hurry. The lady at the other end told me to keep talking to her but your phone battery is flat now.
“I was leaving. I was leaving my husband. That’s how come I was here today. I’m starting a whole new life.
“I wish I knew your name.”
He groaned again and she believed that he squeezed her fingers. Was he coming round? She was shocked then to find that she didn’t want him to. She wanted someone else here, someone to tell him what to do and to take the responsibility.
She squeezed back.
“Lie still; don’t try to move. I don’t know how badly you’re hurt. Just keep still. I won’t leave you. I’ll stay here. Try to relax.”
Finally, with blessed relief she heard the siren in the distance. “Oh they’re coming. They’re here. You’ll be okay now.”
In a flurry of movement and noise the road was filled. The ambulance and a police car screamed to a halt. Men and women in uniform placed cones and lights on the road, radios crackled. The EMT technicians clambered down the grassy bank.
“Hello love. Are you okay? I’m Dave. We’ll look after him now. Do you know him? Hey steady, steady. Chris, help this lady will you?”
The relief and withdrawal of adrenalin swept her from her feet and as the world spun, darkness crawled in from the edges to take her away...
“Put your head down love, just put your head down.” She was sitting at the roadside, her head lowered between her knees, a strong arm around her shoulders and calm words whispering into her ears. The buzzing and blackness receded and her stomach heaved. “It’s alright love, take some deep breaths. Everything is going to be okay now.”