felt a rush of heat ripple through her at the mere thought. Ben Brinkley as her GP? Heaven forbid. Even now she could remember with startling clarity the feel of his long body brushing against hers as he had helped her. Her whole system had gone into overdrive.
‘I don’t think I would be in any hurry to sign up on his list,’ she said on a husky note. She could well imagine that her blood pressure would soar sky high just as soon as she stepped into any surgery run by him. ‘I’d much rather settle for a more genial, fatherly type.’ She frowned. ‘Anyway, he was at home in the middle of a weekday afternoon, so I doubt he’s in general practice. Maybe he works shifts at the local hospital.’
That would make living near to him easier to handle, from her point of view. After all, it meant that he would probably be working some weekends, and that would narrow down the risk of her running into him, wouldn’t it?
A short time later, after she had dropped Emily off at nursery school, Sarah drove into the local town. Parking her car, she walked across the cobbled square, and headed for the estate agent’s office.
‘I’m so sorry about the trouble you had,’ the young man said, getting up from behind his desk and coming towards her. ‘I must have put the wrong label on the key. It was lucky for you that the neighbour happened to be around yesterday when you visited the property.’
Sarah stared at him. ‘I remember ringing you to tell you about the mix-up,’ she said, ‘but how did you know about the neighbour? I don’t recall telling you about him.’
‘No…no, he rang me.’ His expression was something between apologetic and awkward. ‘I think he wanted to check that you were who you said you were. The property wasn’t meant to have been put on the market for another day or so and he wasn’t expecting anybody to be viewing it.’
Sarah winced. Dr Brinkley was certainly thorough in his way of getting to the bottom of things. He’d obviously had doubts about her version of events and somehow that didn’t seem to bode well for their forthcoming relationship as neighbours.
‘But the cottage is still up for rent, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, yes, it is.’ His face brightened. ‘Are you interested in taking up the tenancy, then?’
‘I am. Do you have some papers for me to sign?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, yes…I’ll sort them out right away.’ Clearly, he was eager to finalise things before she had the opportunity to change her mind, and just a few minutes later Sarah left the office. In her bag, she had the correct set of keys, and all the necessary documentation for her new tenancy.
Was this the beginning of a new life? The thought was a little daunting, but at least she had made a start. Straightening her shoulders, she began to walk along the street, heading in the direction of the offices of the local newspaper.
‘Oh, no… Stop…stop… Slow down…’ A woman’s voice rang out, shrill with desperation, and she put up a hand as though to indicate that someone should stop. The woman was walking towards her, looking beyond Sarah to a point behind her. Sarah’s purposeful stride slowed to a halt and she glanced behind her to see what was happening.
A motorcyclist was slowing down, indicating that he wanted to turn right at a junction, and he had positioned himself in the centre of the road. All appeared to be well, except that in the background there was the aggressive, speeding drone of an oncoming car.
Sarah turned round fully to take a better look. On the brow of the hill, she saw that a driver of a black saloon was overtaking on a bend in the road, and he was heading straight for the motorcyclist. The woman who had been shouting was gesticulating now, miming a frantic warning, but Sarah was very much afraid that it had come too late.
At the last moment the man behind the wheel of the car seemed to realise what was about to happen. He wrenched the steering-wheel, swerving to the left as he tried to avoid the motorbike, but he was going too fast and it was clear to Sarah that his actions were too late.
She watched in horror as he hit the bike with the front wing of his car and then smashed into another driver who was innocently heading straight on in the left-hand lane of the road. The front of the black saloon crumpled like a concertina and the car that had been hit swung round violently.
Sarah ran towards the mangled cars and the bike, anxious to do what she could to help.
To her dismay, she saw that the motorcyclist was lying on his side, his leg trapped beneath the bulk of his motorcycle. He appeared to be unconscious, but after a swift check she discovered that his airway was clear and he was still breathing, albeit faintly.
Instinctively, she reached for her phone. ‘Emergency services—I need an ambulance,’ she said, her breath coming in short gasps as she realised the enormity of the situation.
‘Will you help me to lift the bike off him?’ Sarah flung the question at a man who had come to stare at the devastation all around.
‘Of course.’ Together they freed the young man from the weight of the vehicle that was trapping him, and Sarah knelt down to check him over more thoroughly.
The woman who had been shouting earlier appeared to be in a panic, flapping her arms wildly and running about as though she was unsure what to do next.
‘Do you think you could try to stop the oncoming traffic?’ Sarah suggested briefly. She could see that the biker had a thigh wound, with blood seeping through his jeans, and now she laid the heel of her hand on to his thigh and applied pressure. ‘Perhaps you could position yourself over the brow of the hill to stop anyone from coming any closer,’ she told the woman, ‘but make sure that you stay on the pavement.’
The woman nodded, and Sarah guessed she was glad to be able to do something useful. The man who had assisted her must have decided that was the best option, too, because he went with the woman, saying, ‘You take the near side to the brow of the hill, and I’ll go further along, to slow them down.’
Another man was already heading across the far side of the road to halt the traffic there.
Sarah took off her light cotton jacket and folded it up, making it into a tight wad. Then she whipped the leather belt from the waistband of her jeans and used it to strap the wad in place over the man’s thigh, close to the source of bleeding.
After that, she hurried over to the other two vehicles and she quickly checked the condition of the drivers. The man who had caused the accident was still sitting upright in the driver’s seat, looking dazed, and when she spoke to him he said in a thready voice, ‘What have I done? I didn’t realise…’
‘Don’t worry about that for the moment,’ Sarah said. It seemed that his air bag had failed to deploy fully, and his leg was trapped by crumpled metal. ‘Are you hurt? I’ve called for an ambulance. Is there anywhere in particular that’s causing you pain?’
‘My leg,’ he said, and then added in a shaky tone, ‘I’ll be all right. Will you go and see to the others?’
Sarah nodded. ‘I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t try to move.’
The driver of the other car was clutching his chest and his breathing was rapid and gasping. He was complaining of back pain, but his whole body was trembling, and Sarah guessed that he had gone
