Page 23 of One for the Road
It clicked into place.
“Oh shit!I’m dead, aren’t I?” I let my body sink back against the cobblestones, no longer concerned that my hair was probably soaking in dirty puddle water.
One of April Sinclair’s perfect eyebrows rose; I’d seen her make that exact expression in a film once. “You’re very much alive,” she said. “Did you hit your head?”
My hair rustled against the cobblestones as I shook my head. “I don’t even think I felt the car hit me . . . it all happened so fast.” And kind of anticlimactically, honestly, where was the bright light? The inspirational movie-credits music?
Fingers slid along my scalp, probing. I felt weird. Trembly. Like I was a puppet, no longer in control of my limbs or tongue as words continued to spill from my lips. “Please don’t let Jess sing at my funeral, she always misses the high notes. And don’t scatter my ashes, I’m pretty sure you need a licence for that—”
“Should we call an ambulance?” April asked while Alistair Macabe lifted my eyelid back.
“That’s not necessary.” His face was so close. His breath smelled of mint, and I could count the lines creasing the skin around his eyes. “Her pupils look normal; she’s probably in shock.”
I slapped his hand away before he could go for the other eye. “Don’t poke me, I’m fine. Well, not fine – I’m dead, but otherwise fine.”
“You’re not dead,” Alistair scoffed in that lilting brogue I admired when he shouted,Keep the racket down,through my wall any time I sang along to “Silver Springs” too loudly.
Not too thick. He sounded like a meaner version of theOutlanderguy.
Why couldn’t they have sent theOutlanderguy?
“Oh yeah?” I said. “Then explainyourpresence.”
“Good Samaritan.”
His glasses had slipped halfway down his nose. I refused to find it charming. “Either I’m dead or having an extended psychotic episode where you, of all people, would save my life. The first seems far more likely.”
Alistair looked up at April, catching her stare. She regarded him for a long second then burst out laughing. “Is now a good time to revisit the topic of you being an arsehole?”
Alistair didn’t laugh. His impassive gaze flitting to mine. “Anything else you want to get off your chest?”
“Yes,you.” I poked him in the shoulder.
He blinked slowly, seeming to realise he was still pressing me into the ground. He backed up quickly, a suspiciously gentle hand slipping around my back to take me with him until I was sitting, then holding me steady. At that point, the dead theory was looking pretty solid.
We were beneath the awning of the beauty salon. A crowd of onlookers circled around us, phones glued to their hands, negating the aghast expressions on their faces.
“Don’t worry, Isla, I’ve already reported it to the community officer,” Marie, from the corner shop, said, elbowing her way to the front. “Caught the entire thing on camera.”
“That’s . . .”Awful. Death might have been better after all.
This was the most interesting thing to happen in Kinleith in months. I’d barely survived the last bout of humiliation. If I had a pound for every pitying head tilt and rendition ofHe’llcomecrawlingback,justyouwait, let’s just say I wouldn’t be riding a push bike to work wearing a sparkly pink helmet I’d borrowed from my seven-year-old.
Floundering under the attention, I turned, searching the street. “Where’s Boy? Is he okay?”
It still felt weird being friends with April Sinclair. Probably because the first time Heather had dragged me along to a coffee date with April and Juniper, a little part of me had expected her to act like a snooty celebrity, all airs and few graces. But April . . . turned out to be pretty freaking amazing. Generous. Warm. The type of person who made everyone’s day a little brighter simply by existing. She always paid the next coffee forward in Brown’s. Volunteered at village events. Never baulked at taking photos with fans. I absolutely couldn’t be the reason her dog was dead.
“He’s fine. Mal has him,” she assured me, her shoulders still stiff with lingering worry. “Thank you, Isla. That was so brave, I can’t even believe it. We’d be devastated if something happened to him—” Her eyes turned watery.
I froze. My nervous system short-circuiting.
Even as a kid, I’d never handled praise very well. It had the opposite effect to what I suspected it had on most people. It left me with the dread of impending failure. Like I was seconds from being outed as a fraud.
“No, that was really fucking stupid.” Alistair was still crouching before me, his stony face blocking my view of the street. “Boy cleared the road before you even got close. You almost killed yourself for nothing.” Incensed at his reaction, I pushed to stand, but he stopped me, his grip tight but somehow still gentle as he rooted me in place. “Not a chance. I need to finish checking you over first.”
“Not necessary.” I shook him off. “I’m late for work. Jess is going to think I’ve quit – oh, where’s my phone? I must have dropped—” It appeared in front of my face before I’d even finished the thought, cradled in Alistair’s stupidly thick fingers.
“Thanks.”
