He flicked on the radio, switching his usual news channel over to a music station. He washed Cleo’s bowl and put down fresh food and water, though where she’d got to was anyone’s guess. Cleo was no biddable TV pet, purring and entwining herself around his legs, simulating love in exchange for sachets of expensive cat-gloop. She was independent, largely indifferent to him, almost feral. Perhaps that’s why they were such a good fit. The loner divorcé and his lone-wolf cat; both of them quite happy to coexist as long as there was no expectation of anything more than the convenience of having another soul present in their lives.
The radio announced that it was 9.30 a.m. Pete contemplated walking up to the shops, but swiftly discounted this as a truly dumb idea. They’d all be buzzing about the accident by now, picking over the events, swapping tales of what had happened, who was involved and who was to blame. As much as he didn’t want to be alone, he didn’t wanted to be part of that particular feeding frenzy, either.
The rap of the door knocker made him jump. Through the glass panel he could make out two figures. Both male. Pete opened up and was relieved to see that it was an official visit, rather than a concerned neighbour’s knock. The coppers presented their warrant cards and he let them in. Immediately his house seemed to shrink. They made stilted small talk as they went through to the front room. All of them glanced outwards, across the road with its now-flowing traffic, before quickly taking their seats.
Over tea they took Pete’s statement, starting with the moment he realised that something had happened.
‘I was looking for my cat. That’s why I opened the front door. She stays out late sometimes, then whines to be let back in after I’ve gone to bed. It’s really irritating.’ He paused, wishing that was it: the beginning and end of a very boring, very short story.
Neither of the coppers said anything. They knew what came next, but they needed his version – his unique perspective on what happened.
‘That’s when I heard the noise. A really loud bang.’ He looked down at the rug, concentrated on the pattern and thought himself back into his front garden in the dark, cursing Cleo, impatient – just another normal night. He’d been about to shut the door, leave her outside to her own devices. ‘It was a crump, like a bomb going off. I looked up and saw the car. I could tell it was bad, straight away. Then the screaming started.’
The copper with the glasses asked, ‘A male or female voice?’
Pete closed his eyes and heard it again: that high, compressed scream, full of pain and panic. But whether it was one of the girls or the lads, he couldn’t say. ‘I don’t know.’ All he knew was that it was enough to galvanise him into action. ‘I had my phone in the pocket of my trackies. I dialled nine-nine-nine as I ran over.’
‘Did you see any other vehicles on the road at the time?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. It was quiet.’ In truth, Pete hadn’t checked; he’d just set off running across the Tarmac, his phone clamped to his face, his words echoing back inside his head. The closer he got, the worse it had looked and the tighter his chest had become. It was a miracle he’d managed to tell the operator anything. ‘It looked like the car had smashed into the wall, then spun round. It was facing the wrong way.’
‘Which wall, Pete? Sorry, but we need as much detail as possible.’ The other copper this time.
‘The Gerard place.’ He paused, picking the facts out of the messy awfulness of it all. He wanted to make sure what he told them was accurate. ‘The passenger side had taken the worst of it. ‘
‘And what make was the car?’
‘It was a Seat. A dark-blue Seat. There was a strong smell of petrol – and something else. A scorched smell. The grass was all churned up on the verge where it had run off the road. But to be honest, I don’t think I noticed that at first. I think I saw that later, when we were waiting for the lad in the back to be cut free. I remember thinking the car must have been travelling at a hell of a lick to end up where it had.’ He checked himself. ‘Sorry. That’s not for me to say, is it? I don’t know what speed it was going. I didn’t see the actual crash.’
‘It’s okay, Pete. You’re doing a grand job.’ The comment made him feel pathetically grateful – for the kindness, and the praise. ‘And the casualties…the people involved in the crash. Can you tell us about them? Where they were? What kind of state were they in?’
Pete nodded. ‘The first person I saw was the young lad. He was crouched down on the grass near the car. He didn’t seem to be that badly hurt. He was shouting, but not making much sense. I asked him if he was all right, which was a bloody stupid thing to say, in the circumstances, but he ignored me. When I put my hand on his shoulder to try and get him to come away, he lost it. Started yelling at me to “fuck off”. He was hysterical, frightened.’
‘Did he say anything else, apart from the abuse?’
Pete tried to remember, but although his brain still echoed with the visceral sounds of the crying, and the noise of the car creaking and straining like a trapped animal, the lad’s actual words wouldn’t come to him. He took a few breaths, and the coppers waited. They didn’t prompt him or ask anything else, but the atmosphere in the room shifted slightly, and Pete suddenly realised the importance of what he was saying. This was an official statement to two police officers, about a crash in which people had been very badly injured, possibly killed. The lad on his knees was the driver, or so Pete had assumed. As the driver, he would be in the frame.
He shook his head. ‘No. It was just to leave him be – he was more focused on the girl in the front seat than on me. And it wasn’t “abuse” as such; he was in a state. Anyway, I decided to see if I could get into the car. That’s when I saw that the doors on the passenger side had been ripped off, and I noticed there were other people in the car. There was a lad. He was flopped against the back seat. Upright, but not right. What I mean is…I could tell he was in a bad way. For a minute I thought he was dead, but then he kind of rolled his head towards me and opened his eyes. He was quiet. He looked at me like he didn’t understand where he was, or even that he was injured. I cleared some of the glass off the back seat and climbed in next to him. That’s when I realised his legs were pinned. There was no way I was going be able to drag him out. I didn’t think I should try to move him anyway. I don’t know what I thought I could do for any of them really, apart from let them know I was there – that help was on its way. I could see the back of the girl’s head, the one in the front seat.’ Pete stopped. The officers waited. ‘There was a lot of blood. Did she…? I mean…?’
The younger officer glanced at the other, as if confirming some sort of protocol. ‘I’m afraid we can’t release any details about the people involved, Pete. We’re sorry—’
But the older guy cut him off. ‘There’ve been no fatalities reported yet. The casualties are all being cared for at St Thomas’s. You ringing for the ambulances made a difference, Pete. If they’d been there longer, it would’ve been worse.’
Pete didn’t believe there was any way it could have been much worse, but again he was grateful for the effort to reassure him.