Giggling, Frank almost dropped his breakfast on the pavement as he exited the shop. A passing pigeon looked elated at the prospect, before it was snatched away, and the bird was left cooing crossly. Back to the discarded wrappers and food scraps it went as Frank sang down the street, his knees bouncing with every movement.
‘You only want me for my baps,’ she’d said. Frank was still chuckling at their little in-joke as he started up his car. Every weekday morning, she said the same to him, passing him his order with a happy smile that he’d grown accustomed to seeing. He looked forward to it. Marilyn always smiled, and she always set him up for the day. Even now, he was still grinning at her saucy humour.
The sun was shining in the suburbs of York as the silver BMW sprang to life, the occupant ready to get on with his regular journey. Pulling out of the side street, Frank took one hand off the wheel and waved at the woman in the shop window he’d just vacated. She saw him and waved back, and he drove off with a smile. It was Wednesday, which in Frank’s world meant driving to get a paper and a couple of soft bacon butties from Marilyn’s shop, before going to get his hair cut at Tony’s later in the afternoon.
With the fragrant smell of bacon and fresh bread in his nostrils, he pulled onto the main road, driving away from the small rows of shops that ran along the streets of Pocklington. Nearing the local primary school, he stopped for Audrey Shingles, the lollipop lady, as she brandished her huge stick and walked into the middle of the busy road. Frank nodded at her and watched the boys and girls all walk past, book bags and PE kits swinging from their hands as they were led across the road like baby ducklings. St Thomas’s was where his own son once went, and Frank felt a wave of nostalgia flow through him. Seeing a little boy with brown hair crossing the road, his bag almost as big as him, Frank made a mental note to call his own offspring when he got home.
He drove past the school, grinning at Audrey as she thanked him for stopping for the children. Audrey went to return his smile, but her face dropped a little as he drove by. Odd, he thought. Not her usual cheery self today. He drove past the school, easing out of the congestion. Away from the chatter at the school gates, the car grew quiet. Too quiet. He could hear a faint buzzing noise in his head, as though he’d just walked out of a Def Leppard concert feeling a little numb between the ears. Frank went to click on the radio, but his arm didn’t connect with the button. He tried again, but his left arm barely moved. Panic hit him like a wave of icy cold water, making his right arm wobble on the steering wheel. He pulled the car straight, his heart pumping in his chest. What was happening? He felt like he was tied to his seat. His heart beat faster. Boom boom boom in his ears. The pulsing made his head hurt. Feel woolly even.
‘What the …’ Frank spoke out loud, but it came out like a muffled waaa-faaaa sound. He tried again, his panic building as he used his good arm to slowly move to the side of the road. This wasn’t as easy as it sounded, given that his whole body was now leaning over to the middle of the car. Frank just couldn’t right himself, every movement was awkward, and tiring. Terrifying.
I have to stop this car.
The traffic had dropped off past the school gates, but rounding the corner in the direction of the church, Frank could see a queue forming from the traffic lights further down. He could see harassed school mums trying to get to work, bored-looking people heading to their jobs the shops or breakfast with a friend. Life lay before him, but he couldn’t interact with any of it. Couldn’t warn them. He was going to crash, and he couldn’t do a thing. He tried to shout for help, to stop the car. He jammed the foot that was still working down on the brake as hard as he could, trying and failing to wrench the handbrake up with hands that now refused to obey him. Even his own thoughts were jumbled, chaotic. Frank thought of Luke, and his Debra, and shoved his limp hands down on the horn. Beep. Again. Beep. Again. Closer now. Crashing. Beep. Help me. Beep. I can’t, I’m going to …
The silver BMW slammed side on into a row of three parked cars outside the Bella Donna Care Home, sending care workers and relatives scurrying outside to see what the commotion was, and then racing to help, shouting to each other to bring towels, blankets. Call for help. The horn, held down by Frank’s bleeding skull, continued to sound, cutting through the noise of everything else. Frank, feeling now like he could barely move at all, tried to reach his mobile phone, which was in his coat pocket. He fumbled with the fabric, trying and failing to push his fingers into the space. His door was opened at the side of him, and people were talking to him. Asking him questions, telling him not to move, that help was coming. He wanted to speak, to tell them that something was wrong, so very wrong, but the words eluded him. They floated like mischievous pixies in his head. Every time he reached for one, they flew off and nothing that came from his lips made sense. Frank was lost and utterly terrified. He thought of the little boy in the backpack, and a tear fell from his slack cheek.
‘Don’t move, okay Mr Sommersby?’ Marilyn’s son. Frank couldn’t answer him. He didn’t know how. When he felt Jamie’s hand on his, he squeezed it as hard as he could. ‘Over here! He’s touching my hand! Quickly!’ Jamie’s voice sounded strangled, panicked, and Frank wanted to tell him to shush. Not to make a fuss. It was okay. It wasn’t, but he felt so very confused. So very weary. ‘Mam, have you called for help?’
He could sense someone else there now, and he felt something on his arm. Warm. It pervaded his numbness somehow, and he tried to turn his head towards the warmth.
‘No, don’t move Frank. It’s okay, we’re here. Help is on the way. You hang in there, you hear me?’ Frank recognised the female voice, but he couldn’t conjure up the name or the face in his head. Just the feeling of the voice. The way it made his body respond. It kept the fear at bay, a little at least. He tried to focus, to flex his fingers. He had no way of knowing if his digits had responded, and the voices didn’t comment. They weren’t silent though, and he could hear other noises too. The toot of a car … thingy, and the loud herald of sirens. Help. That’s what that sound meant. He didn’t remember what a horn was, or the name of the woman holding his hand and whispering pleas to cling on, but he knew that help was here. The sad thing was, Frank’s life had already flashed before his eyes, and what he had seen had made him want to let go. Give in. His eyelids fluttered closed, but a voice shrieked at the side of him, waking him up.
‘That’s it!’ the voice said, shakily strong. ‘No more baps from me if you leave Frank, so hang on in there.’
‘Mam,’ another voice. ‘Mam, is he answering?’
‘No son,’ the first voice scolded. ‘He knows what to do though. He’ll be fine. That’s the end of it.’ The sirens grew closer, the noise of the commotion growing ever louder still. Frank would have hated all the fuss normally, all the people put out because of him. He’d have apologised, had he been able to, but he was stuck with one image in his head. The little brown-haired boy in the backpack, that made his tired heart clench. He could still hear voices now, but he couldn’t make sense of them. They were so loud, and he was in so much pain. He went to say something, but his body was no longer his to control. Trying one last time to squeeze the hand that was holding his, he gave a long sigh, and gave in.