Because no one is looking.
Because Margaret is looking at AJ, and AJ is looking at Margaret as if she is not a side note to the emergency, not the easier casualty, not the person who has already been freed and therefore dealt with.
As if her fear is still part of the job.
Kev appears beside me, breathing hard, helmet tucked under one arm. “He all right?”
It takes me half a second to realise he means AJ.
“Yes,” I say.
Kev follows my gaze.
AJ is still holding Margaret’s hand.
“Useful, that one,” Kev says, sounding grudgingly annoyed by the discovery.
“He is,” I say.
It comes out softer than I mean it to.
Kev looks at me.
I ignore him.
Across the road, the ambulance doors close on Brian. One of the paramedics moves quickly towards Margaret.
“All right, love,” she says gently. “We’re going to take you in now. Your husband’s going to hospital. We’ll tell you where as soon as we know, but I need to look at you properly first.”
Margaret’s face crumples.
AJ bends his head slightly, still holding her hand. “You heard her. Time to cooperate with the terrifying professional.”
Margaret looks up at him. “Will he be all right?”
The question is awful because no one can promise her that.
AJ does not.
Good man.
“I don’t know,” he says softly. “But he’s out of the car. He’s with them. And you’re going to let them look after you too.”
Her mouth trembles.
Then she nods.
The paramedic gives AJ a quick look. Not gratitude exactly. Professional acknowledgement. He understands it, I think, because he lets go just when Margaret does, stepping back as they help her into the ambulance.
Only then does he seem to realise I am there.
His face changes.
The colour that drained earlier tries to return and fails.
“Pippa,” he says.
“Are you hurt?” I ask.
