A young twenty-something man sat shocked and grazed with my daughter in his arms. People were congratulating him on his quick reflexes, a waiter from a nearby restaurant came out with white towels and a bag of ice. Someone dug their cellphone out to dial an ambulance. Questions about our welfare were being asked, as the young man handed a crying Daisy over to me.
While I whispered words of love and checked her with my hands for injuries, my eyes darted about the footpath behind us. The tattooed man had disappeared from sight, but that did not mean he'd gone.
As we'd made it to Ponsonby Road the crowd which had gathered was quite substantial. The fact that the guy who caught Daisy had been aware enough to act in time, meant that others had seen what had happened too. Several people were talking about the thug who had been chasing us. Within seconds of clasping Daisy to my chest the questions started.
"Was he a mugger?"
"Did he hurt you?"
"What did he want?"
"Is she your daughter?"
"Someone should call the Police."
I stood immediately, righting myself as soon as my injured knee gave out, and stared at all the well meaning onlookers with pure dread in my veins. I licked my lips, searching for some reasonable excuse to offer up.
"Take it easy," someone said off to my side and I jumped. Backing away from the concerned look in a businessman's eyes. "You and the girl need to be checked out."
I shook my head, gripped Daisy tighter. No one was taking my daughter from me. No one.
"I..I've got to go," I stammered.
"Calm down," another person said, this time a middle aged woman. "You're safe now. An ambulance is on the way. Let them treat your daughter."
"She's fine," I insisted. But even I could hear that Daisy was still crying.
"I'm sure she is," the woman cajoled. "But wouldn't it be best if she was seen to by professionals?"
I couldn't think. I couldn't form a coherent sentence. I was working on pure adrenaline. Fight or flight. And I sure as hell wanted to flee. I moved a few inches further away from the crowd, a restaurant window at my back. For all the experience I had at schooling my features, at hiding my fear behind a confident and icy exterior, I was completely unprepared for this. This depth of fear from holding a tearful Daisy in my arms after running for our lives from an assailant.
Part of me knew an ambulance was safe. Getting Daisy checked out made sense. But the part of me that had just relived a night over five years ago was unable to make that connection cleanly. Unable to banish the sound of the gun being fired. The image of the muzzle flaring bright orange in the still, dark night air. Unable to stop my reaction to the blood and brain matter that splattered my face, ran down my chin, and dripped under the edge of my blouse's collar.
And going to the hospital would mean more questions I couldn't answer, which in turn would mean inevitable involvement by the Police. Which I could not allow.
No, we needed to run. To hide. To think of a plan. We couldn't leave the country without our passports. And I wouldn't return to my house to collect them until I knew Daisy was somewhere safe. But right now I couldn't formulate a plan, all I could do was get us out of here.
My eyes scanned the street. Took in the conscious, but clearly grazed and battered form of the cyclist, the cautious, curious, but concerned looks from the bystanders. And a restaurant waiter holding a cup of brightly coloured flavoured ice. The kind of drink they serve children, chocked full of food colouring and artificial flavours. His eyes met mine and he held the cup out, clearly having got it for Daisy.
I offered a weak smile and wrapped a shaky hand around the base of the drink. The movement making the crowd gathered relax as one. The crazy woman was tending to her child at last, maybe things would settle down after all. I nodded my thanks and shifted Daisy on my hip, feeling every movement acutely. As soon as she saw the treat she stopped snivelling and started inhaling ice crystals instead.
"Have you got a bathroom we can use?" I asked the waiter.
"Sure," he replied, as someone else said, "The ambulance will be here soon."
"Tell them to come in to see us inside," I ordered confidently, grabbing my shield and wrapping it around me. I didn't wait for an argument, just followed the waiter into the restaurant itself.
As expected the toilet the waiter led us to was out the back of the business. Right next to the kitchen. Which I was praying had a back door.
He ushered us into the little stall and said he'd keep an eye out for the ambulance out the front. I allowed him to close the door behind us, and in case he was waiting to hear it, I flicked the lock. Trembling I sat down on the toilet seat and shifted Daisy to get a good look.