Jesus, he thought, I could have killed her! And she might die if they don’t get here soon.
‘I’m called Gareth,’ he blurted, pulling the duvet up to her chin. Stupid bastard, he thought; like she’s going to hear you. But it made him feel better, to offer what little support he could. The only way he knew how. ‘Welcome to Deller’s End,’ he said, looking through the fogged-up window of the door towards where the ambulance would appear. If they could get down here, he thought bleakly.
At that moment a flurry of snow rattled softly against the sides of the Land Rover as if to taunt him.
About three-quarters of an hour passed. The temperature inside the vehicle dropped sharply and he was hoping the young woman was still warm beneath the duvet and was deliberating whether to fetch more from the house when a shadow flitted by the steamed-up window. At first he thought his tired eyes had imagined it, but he distinctly heard someone — or some thing — tramping softly in the snow outside. He thought that somehow they’d arrived without him noticing, to take her to hospital, but it was only when he swung open the back door and jumped down from the Land Rover into the thick snow did he realise no one was there. No ambulance, no paramedics, nothing.
Nothing except a deep and fresh set of footprints pockmarking the drifts. ‘Anyone there?’ he called out, flicking his torch beam into the ragged, thorny undergrowth by the side of the lane. The thin beam did little to penetrate the scrub. Gareth traced the footprints, fresh snowflakes already settling in them. They appeared to circle the Land Rover and then head off towards the cottage, where they looked to meld with his own footprints of earlier. He aimed the torch down the lane, and then swung it to his left; the beam struck out across an empty expanse of ghostly white field. There was not a soul to be seen.
His curiosity was just dipping into the first prickling of fear when he saw the starlight-blink of headlights in the distance, shining sharply through the curtain-like screen of denuded trees. He went back to the Land Rover and waved the torch in their direction, relief flooding through him, warming and welcome.
18
He insisted he travel with her in the ambulance to the county hospital, just outside St Davids, but when the paramedics discovered he wasn’t family, and in fact was the man who had nearly killed her, they told him it wasn’t a good idea and that it would be better if he didn’t. That didn’t stop Gareth. He followed the ambulance, with difficulty in the worsening conditions, to the hospital.
Why? He asked himself that and concluded he didn’t rightly know. No, he thought, that wasn’t the entire truth. He didn’t follow the ambulance because of guilt, though he did feel the odd-pang screw up his stomach — after all, it wasn’t entirely his fault, was it? It was simply because during the lengthy time he spent with her before the ambulance came, tucking her up in the duvet, touching her forehead, staring at her face, as peaceful as if she were asleep — during that time a connection had been made.
She hadn’t spoken a single word, had only looked into his eyes for a split second before the moment of impact, and, he thought, let’s face it she might not have even seen his face through the windscreen, the bright headlights washing him and the Land Rover out all but completely. But something happened back there in that lane. Something he couldn’t figure out but which was drawing him along as easily as if he were tied to her by an invisible cord. Something that made him try to keep up with the ambulance, headed back out into a snowstorm he had so desperately tried to escape.
Nor did he think it odd that he sat inside Accident and Emergency in an insipid corridor on an uncomfortably hard, plastic chair, staring at notices on the wall opposite telling him not to use his mobile, which he found ironic, because the thing would probably work here where he least needed it. He sat impatiently, twiddling his thumbs, waiting for news of her condition.
He knew it was faintly ridiculous, but he was worried sick for her. He suspected the doctor also thought something similar as he badgered her for an update and she politely explained she’d inform him as soon as she had details. She indulged him though, and gave him directions to the nearest coffee machine, and advised him to avoid both the tea and coffee and stick to the hot chocolate.
A police officer turned up after a while, mumbling that he could not get here any earlier due to a number of weather related accidents stretching the available force. He looked weary and hollow-eyed, like he really didn’t care but he was going through the motions.
‘So she jumped out in front of you?’ he asked.
‘Ran out in front,’ I corrected.
‘Do you think she meant to do it?’
Gareth frowned. ‘Like suicide? No, I don’t think so. There are easier ways. She looked too surprised, and I think she slipped in front of the car. I’m not sure she actually meant to go under it.’
He grunted something and his pen flicked over the paper of his pad. ‘Seems odd she didn’t see or hear your car, don’t you think?’
He thought about it. ‘She appeared to be running fast, as if she was being chased.’
He looked up. ‘Did you see anyone else?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Not exactly? Can you explain?’
‘It might be nothing, but I heard someone moving outside the Land Rover just before the ambulance arrived. I saw footprints too.’
‘But you didn’t see anyone?’
Gareth shook his head. ‘Not a soul.’
‘And how long after you’d hit her did this happen?’
‘I’m not sure. Best part of an hour.’
He gave a low chuckle. ‘She had a good head start then!’ He snapped shut his book and shoved it into his pocket. ‘Thank you for your help, sir. I have your contact details should we need to speak with you further.’
‘So you’ve no idea who this woman is, where she was going or what she was doing out there at this time of night?’
‘No ID. And not exactly dressed for the weather either. Probably as high as a kite on something or other, wandered, got lost, panicked, saw you and ran to get your help. Bang! Ends up here. As soon as she comes to we’ll interview her.’ He rose to his feet and looked down at him as he plonked his cap back on his head. His radio crackled and thin insistent voices buzzed like a swarm of angry wasps. ‘If you take my advice, sir, you’d best be headed home. You can’t do any good here anyhow, and like I say, she’s probably not going to thank you for your concern; I’ve seen this type before.’
Gareth wanted to protest, but held it in check. He bade the officer good night and wandered down to the coffee machine. He should have heeded the doctor’s advice — the coffee was dire. Resignedly he sat back down on his chair and waited for news, sipping and grimacing and wondering what on earth he was doing here.
The doctor came to his side, almost taking him by surprise.
‘Is she going to be alright?’ he asked, rising from his chair.
She nodded. ‘The suspected fracture of the skull turned out to be a quite sizeable blow to the head that caused concussion, but thankfully all she should suffer when she finally comes round are a few stitches to the head, dizziness and a thumping headache. There were no broken bones, no internal injuries. A day or so, depending on how she reacts to the crack on the head and she should be OK.’
He gave an obvious sigh of relief. ‘So she’s still unconscious?’
She nodded. ‘Sleeping.’ She glanced pointedly at her watch. ‘If you want to see her you’ll have to wait till tomorrow. That’s when the police say they should be back to ask her a few routine questions.’ She made as if to leave, her shoe squeaking on the tiled floor. ‘One curious thing, though,’ she said. ‘Though she’s escaped having any broken bones this time she’s had more than her fair share for one so young. Long-healed, but either she’s very accident prone or suffered quite a bit of trauma in the past.’ She smiled. ‘Accident prone, I guess, judging by tonight…’ Her bleeper went. ‘Goodnight. You really must be going; you’ll never get home and you could be stranded here all night.’