Sister Sister(86)

I throw the phone onto the seat and shove the keys in the ignition. The engine roars as, heavy-footed, I speed out of the car park, heading for Little Dray. It’s going to take a good hour to get there, but if I put my foot down I should be able to make it before the school run.

Fortunately, I’m going in the other direction to most of the rush-hour traffic and I miss the bulk of it as I hammer down the A23 towards home. Soon the countryside I pass slips into the familiar landscape of open fields and undulating hills that I associate with Sussex. I check my watch as the ‘Welcome to Little Dray’ signpost comes into sight. I ignore the ‘please drive carefully through our village’ part. I swing off to the left, taking the lane that leads to the house. The hedges smudge into various shades of green as I push the accelerator further down. I check the clock on the dash. It’s eight twenty-three. In two minutes’ time, Luke will be leaving with Hannah. I press even harder on the accelerator and almost over-cook it on the next bend, the back end of the BMW giving a little step-out. I manage to correct it, avoid skidding off into the ditch and stamp on the brakes, but in doing so also manage to stall the engine.

‘Come on!’ I shout at the car as I twist the key in the ignition. It starts straight away and, with no thought to anything around me, I rev the engine and wheel-spin away, dust and dirt kicking up behind me from the rear wheels.

I’m nearly there, the flint wall that surrounds the grounds to the house is in sight. I’m vaguely aware of a dark saloon car parked on the side of the verge and at the last minute I swerve to miss it. I hear a crack and as I glance to my left, I see my near-side wing mirror hanging off. I don’t care.

I can see the gates and I swing the car round like some sort of stunt man, as miraculously, I slip through without making contact with the flint piers.

I don’t see her.

One minute the driveway is clear, the next she has launched herself in front of me. I slam on the brakes so hard I’m practically standing on them. I make eye contact. For a fraction of a second I think she’s standing there just waiting for me to hit her, but then I see she’s moving. Her arms are outstretched. She’s trying to move something out of my way. She looks at me and I see my own abject fear reflected straight back at me. Time stands still until I realise what, or rather who, she is trying to move from the path of the tonne of metal bearing down on them.

I throw the steering wheel to the left to try to avoid them.

Somewhere, someone has screamed. I don’t know where or who. Or maybe we all screamed, but then the God-awful thud of impact comes, all other sound being sucked up. Her head makes contact with the windscreen and the glass both splinters out like a spider’s web and bulges in towards me at the same time. Another thud. This time the roof.

The car skids, but the speed I’m travelling cannot be countered by the brakes. It hits one of the rocks dotted along the edge of the grass island, the steering wheel is snatched from my grasp and all of a sudden I feel a weightlessness as the car is briefly airborne before flipping onto its side and colliding with a tree, which bounces the vehicle back onto its wheels. The airbag has deployed at some point and my face is cushioned before I’m jolted backwards and the side of my head hits the off-side window.

I’m vaguely aware of screaming and shouting. Voices that are familiar but sound so far away, as if they’re calling and yelling from a great distance. I can see figures running towards me. I try to move but I’m trapped by some sort of strap. I can’t work out what it is. I’m looking down a black tunnel, which is closing in around me.

‘Clare! Clare!’

The tunnel pulses away. I look to the side and I see Luke yanking at the driver’s door. ‘It’s okay, Babe. We’re going to get you out of here.’

Before the door comes open, something distracts him and he looks across the driveway. It’s then I hear him roar with pain. He flees from my sight. I hear more shouting but I can’t make out what they are saying. The volume and clarity of their voices throbbing in and out.

Then Leonard is next to me. He’s talking. His voice is stern. His face is grim. He’s tapping my face. He sounds drunk, his words sound slurred. My brain can’t understand what he’s saying. My vision is blurry and I squint my eyes. I focus hard on his voice and his words become clearer.

‘Clare. Unfasten your seat belt. Your seat belt, Clare. Unfasten it.’

He’s jabbing inside the car and I move my hand to the side of my seat. I find the buckle and, on the second attempt, I hear a click and the pressure across my stomach and shoulder is released as I slump to one side. The black tunnel is closing around me again. His voice becomes distant. I think I can hear Luke’s voice too.