Chapter 1
Pacing the hall Jim was becoming more and more agitated as he waited for Tasha to return. She’d assured him she was on her way home, but it was taking too long. She had been too long and he was beginning to worry when he heard the sound of a car coming to a standstill outside the house, although the car seemed to be travelling fast, too fast, and the braking seemed too severe, too urgent causing his initial relief at hearing it to be short lived as panic resurfaced. He was standing behind the door, ready to pull on the handle when it seemed to fly open, but rather than coming face to face with Tasha, Jim found Juan looking back at him with the mother of all scared expressions on his face that confirmed he had been right to be concerned by Tasha’s delayed arrival.
“What?” Jim asked, his voice raised with concern at the other man’s expression, the fear in his eyes.
“There’s been a crash,” Juan started. “Down the hill. A car. The fire crew are preparing to cut the driver out.”
“Juan, who is it?” Jim asked, but knew in his head, heart and gut what the other man was going to say.
“The car looks like Tasha’s. I came back up here as fast as I could—”
Jim was already heading through the door and rounding his own car while Juan was calling behind him, something about coming with him, but the truth was if he didn’t get in the car quickly he would be left behind because Jim had no intention of hanging around if Tasha was hurt. He needed to see her, to make sure she was okay and she had to be, she just had to be or he would never forgive himself.
It was only a couple of minutes before they were pulling up alongside the broken crash barrier the vehicle had gone through. There were blue lights flashing everywhere; police, ambulance and fire crews and as Juan had suggested the latter were indeed cutting the victim from the vehicle. Moving closer and attempting to push past the police cordon to gain a better look at the vehicle if not the driver, Jim met the full force of a very large uniformed police officer.
“Sir, you need to step back,” the officer told Jim who was still trying to at least look past the policeman if not move past him.
“I need to get down there. I think it’s my fiancée, in the car. We’re getting married, soon, in a couple of weeks,” he said, and although he knew he was rambling he was incapable of stopping. “We had a fight earlier and she was coming home, but it was taking too long—”
The officer cut him off as he called to someone else and was quickly joined by a young fire fighter who offered Jim a short and sympathetic smile.
“Jim?” With a confirming nod from Jim, he continued, “She was asking for you, Tasha.”
“She’s okay?” Jim asked, desperate for reassurance and some kind of sign that Tasha was unhurt.
“The vehicle flipped. We’ve turned it back. She was conscious earlier, but the medics are with her now, keeping her stable while we cut her free. I should get back but you should be okay to travel to the hospital with her.”
Jim nodded, unable to say anything else, barely able to think. With a sick feeling in his stomach and a heavy ache across his chest he momentarily doubled over, dropping to his haunches as Juan dropped to his side.
“I’m sure she’ll be okay. Tasha is strong, a fighter,” Juan told the older man, his own voice breaking at the thought that she might be anything other than well.
Jim made no reply. Juan was right, Tasha was a fighter, she’d had to be from the day she was born and when he’d met her, known she was his lucky seven he’d vowed she’d never have to fight again and yet here she was, doing precisely that. However, unlike in the past, this time she wouldn’t be fighting alone because he was here and had no intention of leaving her to face anything alone ever again.
Another ten minutes or so passed in silence before Juan spoke again, “Should I call anyone, Philip?”
“No, not yet,” Jim replied, his eyes never leaving the scene of the crash as Tasha’s body was finally lifted from the wreck of her car.
With the police now maintaining a cleared path for the stretcher to be carried along, Jim was finally afforded his first look at Tasha and as much as he imagined it proving to be a reassurance that she was okay, alive, it didn’t, because for all intents and purposes she looked as close to death as he imagined she could without actually being dead.
“Baby,” he whispered as he watched her pass by, a multitude of leads and tubes attached to her along with a collar holding her neck in a fixed position while the bandages or straps, whatever they were seemed to bind her to the stretcher, preventing any movement which he knew was a bad sign.
Jim was vaguely aware of the fire fighter reappearing beside him and mutely nodded as he said, “You can go with her.”
Following behind Tasha, Jim felt numb now, numb and impotent because he really was unable to do anything to make this right. Tasha’s wellbeing was in the lap of the gods and in the hands of the doctors who awaited them at the hospital. Juan had already relieved Jim of his car keys and was preparing to follow the ambulance to the hospital, but not before he had called Bobby, just Bobby, because he knew Jim would need someone and his brother was that person.
Once at the hospital, Tasha was rushed through the emergency department and Jim was left to sit and wait. He paced the floor, sat down, stood up, sat back down and tapped his feet nervously and then paced some more. Bobby had arrived shortly after Juan who felt as helpless as Jim, but was also conflicted because he knew he should contact Philip.
After the first hour passed, Juan suggested contacting someone else to Bobby who nodded, but said nothing, meaning he was expecting some opposition from Jim. There were none. Bobby collected some coffee from the nearby vending machine and whilst there made a couple of calls before returning to his brother who was doing a round of pacing and Juan who was sitting in a corner rocking.
“Jimbo,” he called. “I’ve phoned Lenny, well Sara who passed me over to Lenny. He’s coming down, to see if he can pull any strings in getting some answers, okay?”
Jim nodded then took the seat next to his brother and sipped the coffee he was offered.
“The coffee is shit.” He winced, making his brother smile.
“You should probably contact Tasha’s family. They’ll want to know and if any of this hits the news…”
“Yeah, I will. As soon as I know something, anything. Juan,” he called now. “You should go. There’s no point us all being here.”
