he said, and bolted up the road towards the carnage.
The woman punched numbers into a mobile phone and then calmly told whoever answered that there had been an accident. She proceeded to give precise directions and local road names.
Claire felt helpless, left out, and almost miffed because she’d seen it first and here they were taking over.
Short of anything better to do, she made her way to the mangled cars. The man was circling the wreckage, calling to the occupants, trying to pull on what must be handles on doors but didn’t look like anything to her.
Claire realised she could smell fuel. Then she noticed a darker patch of gravel. The bitumen was stained and glistening. She remembered hearing somewhere how the battery had to be disconnected to stop sparks igniting spilt fuel. Claire stared at the fused cars, walked around looking for the front ends. She frowned, trying to decipher the mess. Then suddenly, as if she’d adjusted the focus on a camera, the bonnet of the red car became apparent. She walked over, aware of the other Good Samaritan leaning into one window and talking, urging the victim to hold on, telling him that help was on its way. The bonnet was folded back in three, the engine still hissing steam.
Claire didn’t want to put her hand in but knew she didn’t have a choice. The battery was lying there with fluid of some sort dripping onto it. The car’s wiring had already had the plastic coating scorched off. Any second the unprotected wires could short. For all she knew, the scorching had already worked its way through the dashboard and into the cabin. She pulled at the terminals with her only protection: the small wad of tissues she’d been using to shield her nose. They were both stuck fast – she needed a screwdriver. There wasn’t one in her own car and she couldn’t disturb the man who seemed to be getting some response from someone in the car.
Claire was relieved to hear a siren and, when she looked up, see a white CFS truck and police car pulling over, and uniformed people jumping out and running towards her. They pushed past, literally shoving her aside in their haste. Claire didn’t mind at all – she was just glad to be off the hook.
‘I couldn’t get the battery out,’ she said, raising a helpless arm in the general direction.
‘It’s okay, we’re here now.’ A young male police officer was beside her. He ushered her back to her own car.
She put her hand on the door handle.
‘I’m afraid I’ll need a statement before I can let you go,’ he said, taking a notebook from his top pocket.
Claire checked her watch. ‘I really need to get going. I…’
‘It’ll only take a few moments.’
I don’t have a few moments, Claire wanted to tell him. ‘I really don’t think I’ll be much help,’ she said, quickly, hoping her tone would hurry him up.
‘How about you let me be the judge of that?’ he said.
‘I don’t mean to be rude but there’s somewhere I really need to be. Could I just call into a police station later? Or maybe phone you in a couple of hours?’
‘I’m afraid not – it’s important to get the facts down as quickly as possible.’
Claire took a deep breath and tried to keep her exasperation at bay. But her eyes kept going to the watch on her wrist.
‘Right. Full name and address please.’ The pencil he held was poised above a small notepad.
Claire rattled off the details.
‘Now, what exactly did you see, Ms McIntyre?’
‘Well I was just driving along – on the speed limit – and they roared past me – definitely speeding. When I came around this bend they were just there, like that,’ she said, indicating towards the wreckage.
‘You say they were speeding – any idea how fast?’
‘No, not really.’
‘Significantly faster than you or just a bit?’
‘I have no idea. It all happened very fast.’
‘But they were definitely speeding?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you can be sure because…’
‘Because I was doing the speed limit – 100 – and they both went past me. That means they were speeding, right? Look, I really don’t have time for this.’
‘And you say you came around the bend and there they were?’
‘Yes.’
‘And then what did you do?’
‘I was trying to call emergency but my phone didn’t have a signal. And then the couple in the four-wheel drive turned up.’
‘So they were the ones who called the emergency services?’
‘Yes – the woman did.’
‘So their phone had service then?’
‘I guess it must have done,’ she said, a sarcastic tone creeping into her voice. She half expected him to tell her to change her carrier to someone more reliable.
‘Right. And then what did you do?’
‘Well I was trying to figure out how to disconnect the batteries. That’s what I was doing when the CFS – and you – turned up. Please, can I go now?’ She willed herself not to look at her watch.
‘If you’re sure you’ve got nothing more to add.’
‘Yes, I’m sure. That’s all I know.’
‘Right, thank you. Yes, you can go. But we might need to contact you at a later date.’
‘Fine.’
The police officer opened Claire’s door and she got in. ‘You okay to drive?’ the policeman asked. But it sounded more like a statement than a genuine enquiry.
‘Yes, fine, thanks,’ she said, nodding. But Claire didn’t feel fine at all. She felt shaken and traumatised, not at all like she should be driving. But she had to sort out Paycheque, and time was running out.
She started her car and looked down the road. She began to feel queasy at the thought of having to drive past the wreckage. Suddenly Keith was in one of those cars, fighting for his life, in immense pain but only able to offer groans as his body failed. She had to get out of here.
‘You sure you’re okay? You look a bit pale. Maybe you should hang around for a bit longer.’
‘I’m fine, really,’ she lied. She checked her mirrors, put the car in gear, and pulled carefully onto the road. After she’d passed the wreckage she noticed in her rear vision mirror that the CFS crew were beginning to block the road with witches’ hats.
As she drove, Claire debated whether to call in and see if Bernadette
