by Martin Dukes
The traffic had stopped. A police car was drawn up with its lights flashing and its doors hung open. One policeman considered the wreckage of a small car, shattered against the side wall of the insurance office and spoke urgently into his radio. Another was walking back along the road waving his arms to stop the traffic as it swung round the bend. More policemen were rushing out of the police station and somewhere in the distance the siren of an ambulance could be heard. Alex felt numb. He worked his way to the edge of the kerb. What might have been an off duty doctor had joined the policeman by the car and was leaning in through the shattered windscreen. He came out again, shaking his head. The policeman spoke into his radio again. A colleague ran across with a green medical bag. The medic signalled that this would not be necessary. It was clear that the driver was dead. Alex felt a sensation of sadness so acute he had to look away. Why had the death of a stranger affected him so? His eye fell upon two girls, standing awkwardly on the other side of the road. One was rubbing her elbows and rolling up one trouser leg to rub at her shin. The other was smaller, dark haired, pretty. She had the lower part of her face covered by her hands, only her eyes exposed, staring fixedly at the wreckage of the car. A policewoman took her gently by the arm and began to lead her back across the road towards the police station, fending off enquiries from the drivers of various stationary vehicles.
“What on earth are you doing?” came Alex’s mum’s voice from behind him, and then “Oh!” as she took in the scene of the accident. The two girls were led past Alex. He gaped. There was something so familiar about that girl, and as she passed their eyes met. There were tears in hers, anguish, shock and then as she passed by, a glimmer of recognition. Alex almost called out. But what was there to say? Then she was gone, her head turned away once more as the crowd swallowed her up. His mum was scolding him, grabbing at his arm, but Alex hardly heard. He remained frozen, watching until the two girls vanished inside the police station. Then he allowed himself to be drawn away, back towards the High Street, letting his mum’s complaints wash over him.
“…out of your pocket money,” she was saying. “Great clumsy clot. And running off like that. What on earth did you think you were doing?”
A stranger appeared at Alex’s side, a young man with a struggling goatee beard, and a kindly face. He wore an ill-fitting suit. Before Alex could react he had taken his hand and pressed something into it. Alex glanced down. It was a page torn from a jotter with a name and a telephone number scrawled upon it. Alex looked up.
“Come on,” called his mum impatiently from up ahead.
But the young man had gone. Alex glanced wildly up and down the street. He looked at the paper again. “Kelly” was the name.
If you enjoyed this book, you may wish to follow Alex in his further adventures. “The Alex Trueman Chronicles” comprises three volumes of which this is the first. The second volume, “Worm Winds of Zanzibar”, is available through various online sources. The third and final volume, “Angelic Upstart”, will be published during the course of 2014.