Category:
Action/Thriller
Central London gets Kate and Greg Bailey down. The skills of a hair stylist and a health club manager seem transferable to the Scottish Isle of Arran. But the move turns out to be a disaster for them both. As their relationship tears apart, Kate must survive traumatic events. Can she turn her world around on her own? Can she possibly find contentment in her life as the wild sea churns over and the fresh sea breezes blow in her direction?
Chapter 3
It was midsummer and they had managed to take a whole week off to visit Arran. They hired a Ford Kuga for the trip. The car’s first stop was at the Keele service station on the M6. It was busy with cars seeming to leave as soon as others arrived. The hall area was shoulder rubbing busy. They stopped at the Starbucks counter, ordered two coffees and two chocolate buns to go and returned to their car.
‘The air’s much cooler up here and we’re not yet half way there,’ said Greg.
‘No, probably not half way. But the air seems cleaner.’
‘Anyway if a week won’t settle our future, we’ll have to settle for London. We’re not gallivanting around the country to find the ideal place if it doesn’t exist,’ Greg concluded.
Kate was getting irked by Greg’s hesitations about Arran. She put her coffee down on the car’s consul and turned her head towards him.
‘Look here Greg. We’re well on our way. There’s no going back. So bloody well accept that and let’s try and enjoy this break. If nothing else, I needed a break from work and I guess you do too.’
A silence lasted two minutes. Time for Greg to consider his feelings and appreciate what Kate was telling him. He felt trapped, like a fly in ointment struggling to rise up the side of the jar.
‘You’re right. I might as well enjoy this break. I’ve never been to Scotland.’ Greg looked up at the sky. Striates of harmless clouds drifted by to the south making way for a darker and more hostile covering from the north-west.
By the time they were settling into a 70 mph cruise control speed, Greg was aware of two things. The traffic was thinning and the clouds were congregating and about to assault his car.
As the Cumbria county sign welcomed them on their northerly journey, the heavens opened. Greg dropped his speed to 50 mph and settled in the first lane, overtaking slower lorries on their way. As they passed Kendal the rain escalated, while the increasingly greasy front window wipers regularly waved away a steady drizzle sideways. The weather seemed to be settling in for some time.
‘God stop, or you’ll kill it,’ shouted Kate all of a sudden.
Greg put his foot hard on his brake pedal as he looked in his rear mirror to check no one was behind him. But closing down on him was a transporter lorry. Greg indicated he was going into the emergency lane as the deer stopped in its tracks and then set off back from where it had come.
Kate screamed. Like the pull of a magnet the deer froze in their path. The car with its lights on full, hit the dazed deer at thirty miles an hour and seconds later they were gently shunted down the embankment from behind by the transporter.
Their car raced out of control down the outer embankment and stopped as it crashed into wire netting by the side of an A road running parallel to the motorway at a lower level. Silence ensued, broken only by the call of a disturbed rook. Fortunately the car remained upright. Then a voice shouted.
‘Are you alright?’
Greg thought he has asked that of his wife. He looked at her. She looked at him. They were alive.
‘Hey, are you alright?’ The sound was nearer this time. Then Greg heard a hand on his door and a man tugged it open.
‘Hi, I was in the lorry behind you. I shunted you off the road. But....are you both okay...that’s the main thing?’
‘It could have been worse I suppose,’ said a still dazed Greg.
‘My arm hurts,’ said Kate cradling her left arm with her other arm.
‘Anywhere else? Any bleeding darling?’
‘No Greg, I don’t think so.’
Greg’s head was bleeding. He undid his seatbelt and pushed the emergency bag out of the way.
‘Looks like you’ll be alright. I phoned the police and the ambulance service. They should be here soon,’ said the relieved lorry man.
‘What about this car?’ asked Kate.
‘The car?’ said the lorry driver who then set off around it to see the damage. He returned and said, ‘It’s a right off.’
‘You sure?’ asked Greg aware of its hired status.
‘Trust me. I know about cars. The Kuga has a solid structure but it is not worth repairing. Scrap metal, that’s what it is. Better get the car papers out before you leave here.’
It wasn’t long before the feint sound of a siren was detected. The noise grew louder. The vehicle was not coming from the motorway but the A road in front of them. The blue flashing lights were perched on top of the vehicle but soon they recognised an ambulance had arrived. The ambulance parked on the other side of the fence. Two doors opened and closed.
‘Be with you in a second,’ shouted one ambulance man as the other brought out large wire cutters and started cutting the fence, creating an entrance to the crash site. Then they approached carrying two stretchers.
‘Okay, I’m Pat. Let’s see what we have here?’ he asked as he shone a pen light into Kate’s face. ‘And what’s your name?’
‘I’m...Kate,’ she struggled to say because of her pain.
‘It’s my arm that hurts and my neck is a bit sore as well.’
‘I know. I see how you are holding your arm. It’s almost certainly broken. You are likely to have whiplash too.’
‘Hi, I’m Sue. Where is the pain, sir?’
Greg turned his head towards her. He lifted his hand to his head.
‘I see, you’ve gashed your head. And what’s your name?’
‘Greg.’
‘No back injury?
‘No, I think I’m fine there.’
‘Alright, it’s not warm. Best get you in the ambulance and get you both checked out.’
‘Where?’ asked Greg.
‘Westmorland General Hospital or the Penrith hospital. We’re fractionally nearer the Penrith hospital. Hey Pat, Penrith?’ he asked for clarification.
‘Penrith to be sure,’ Pat replied and Kate was aware for the first time of a Northern Irish accent.
Friday night at A&E Penrith had the usual falls and fights, the overdosed and the alcohol-fuelled arguments. But both Kate and Greg had been given an analgesic to ease pain and they lay still on beds awaiting attention.
Very soon thereafter, Kate was taken away, examined by the doctor then wheeled to the X ray department. Greg had a longer examination and was then sent for a CAT scan.
By 10 pm that night Kate was sitting up in bed with her arm in plaster. She had whiplash and been given a NHS folded sheet of paper asking her to walk around normally, when discharged. “Movement aids whiplash healing,” it stated. “Only return to hospital if the pain gets much worse.”
Greg returned half an hour later announcing that they could be released in 24 hours subject to a good night’s sleep. His CAT scan revealed no injury and his plastered head was all he could show for his mishap. They both realised how fortunate they had been.
Greg took out his mobile and phoned the car rental firm. He explained what had happened and was told the police report will be sent to the company. They asked of their state of health and were informed. When they were free to leave the hospital, they were to get in touch and a car from the Kendal garage would be given to them to complete their journey.
Greg was pleased that their future seemed clearer and he told Kate. All that was missing was a hot mug of cocoa and sound sleep, thought Greg.
Footsteps were heard approaching. They entered the two-bed room.
‘Good evening,’ said the taller of the two police officers. ‘Sergeant Ian Fox and Constable Margaret Nicolson. Mr and Mrs Bailey?’
Kate nodded. Greg confirmed their identity.
‘Here are your car papers,’ said Sergeant Fox as he laid them on the wooden side table.
‘Oh thank you. I had forgotten to take them,’ said Greg.
‘As part of the enquiry, we’ll need to interview you both. We’ve cleared it with the hospital staff. Mr Bailey, we’ll go to a private room for the interview. Are you ready?’
Greg looked at Kate who looked worried. Constable Nicolson left the room and summonsed a nurse who arrived promptly. She wheeled Greg’s bed to a nearby characterless room.
‘Tell us in your own words Mr Bailey, what happened on the M6?’ asked Sergeant Fox.
Almost an hour later, Greg was returned to the room while Kate was wheeled out for her interview.
She was asked the same questions. ‘Well, we were travelling along, at an acceptable rate,’ she began. ‘I mean we were in cruise control. It had been raining. I was first to spot the deer leave the hard shoulder and enter the first lane. I remember shouting to Greg to stop the car.’
‘And did he?’ asked Constable Nicolson.
‘No, not completely but he did slow down considerably.’
‘Can you tell us how fast he was going?’
‘Well, until the deer appeared we must have been doing 50-60 mph. It was very wet. The motorway wasn’t very busy. Then after I shouted, Greg slowed down. Maybe 30 pmh it was. It seemed straight away.’
‘Unlikely. Probably nearer 40, I would think?’ said Sergeant Fox.
‘Then what happened,’ asked Constable Nicolson.
Kate shuffled in her bed.
‘You comfortable?’ asked PC Nicolson.
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ she replied with a sigh. ‘Err, you were asking what happened next. It was over in a flash really. We went onto the hard shoulder and so did the deer. The deer must have been transfixed by our lights. It did not move. Then we hit it. What a thud. Just as well it did not have horns. It brought us nearly to a stop. I mean we jolted forward a bit. That was the last I saw of the deer. It must have been a second later we got hit from the rear and that launched us off down the embankment. Launched is perhaps the wrong word. It was more of a shove forward.’
‘Did you encounter the driver?’
‘Oh yes, he came down to see if we were all right. He phoned for the emergency services too. I don’t know what we would have done without him.’
‘Did he smell of drink?’
‘Good heavens no. His job was a lorry driver, I mean, he wouldn’t would he?’
Constable Nicolson was scribbling in her diary, non-stop.
‘How near was the lorry before it hit your car?’ asked Sergeant Fox.
‘Well I don’t really know. But he must have seen the deer too. He was sitting much higher on the road. I suppose he could have overtaken us but we might have overtaken the deer as well. I presume that is why he breaked onto the hard shoulder too. I don’t blame him. Would you? I mean what would you have done in the circumstances?’
The officers were taken aback by her question. ‘I don’t really know. It must have been instinct to take these dangerous decisions,’ said Nicolson.
‘So, what happens next?’ asked Kate with white knuckles on show. She felt her heart beat audibly to the police.
‘We complete our report, this one, your husbands and the lorry driver’s statements. Then we’ll have the road markings of course, and we submit all these to the Crown Office for their consideration,’ said Fox familiar with the procedures.
‘Will the Crown Office prosecute us?’
‘I can’t say. Depends how they see it. But they have lawyers who look at health and safety issues as well.’
‘Health and safety? Why?’ asked Kate in a confused state.
‘They look at how often accidents happen at that spot, consider adding more deer warnings, mandatory lowering of speeds where the accident happened, lots of things really.’
‘But that does involve us. That’s not about prosecution.’
‘No it’s not,’ said Nicolson. ‘But we really can’t second guess the Crown Office’s decisions, can we?’
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