Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
(aka Bike) Part 1972 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad
All Rights Reserved. |
 |
“You’re Sandra Birtles aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she said very quietly, “I feel so cold,” she started to close her eyes.
“Sandi, I need you to concentrate.” I said, but I felt her losing consciousness. “Sandi, stay with me.”
“She gonna die?” asked the woman handing me the blanket from my car.
I shook my head — no; not if I have anything to do with it. ‘Okay,’ I told the blue light, ‘sort her,’ I’ll deal with the consequences later. I knelt down and touched her neck, she opened her eyes and looked at me in disbelief.
“Who are you?” she gasped.
“A friend,” I said back quietly, which none of the others heard. “Sandi, follow the blue light, it’ll lead you to safety. Resist the urge to sleep, follow the light.” I held on to her hand still, aware that her pulse was beating rapidly but shallowly. She was getting ready to die–not on my shift. ‘Go for it,’ I instructed the light and Sandi opened her eyes again and cried as if in pain. “Stay with it, girl, I’ll get you there.”
“I say, d’you actually know what you’re doing?” asked some chinless wonder.
“Very much, now go away and leave us alone, or I’ll tell your wife about your affair.” What I hadn’t realised was that his wife was the one who fetched the blanket from my car. She started shouting at him and while they both went at it hammer and tongs, even I saw the blue flashes as the energy seemed to weld Sandi’s spinal cord back together.
While her neck was repairing itself, I wondered where the blood had come from–she had a gash through the cycling tights she was wearing and it was still seeping the red stuff.
I asked the energy to staunch the wound and there was a smell of burning and the bleeding stopped. I pressed a hand over it with a clean tissue, which quickly absorbed blood from her tights–I’d tell the paramedics I’d used pressure on it.
Sirens began to sound in the distance, and I asked a woman who wasn’t watching the fight–yes the two were actually slapping each other–to watch our patient. I’d fixed the major problems. She’d have loads of bruises and grazes and very sore neck and leg, and possibly need a transfusion, but she’d live.
“I’ve got to go and collect my children, tell them she’s hurt her neck and had a nasty cut on her leg which I’ve stopped with manual pressure,” I informed my replacement. I nodded to her and quickly escaped the increasing crowd, who were mostly stopping to watch the antics of the squabbling pair.
I chuckled as I pulled away and an ambulance hove into view with a police car right behind it. It was after three when I got to the school and to my surprise I noticed my trousers were soaked in blood. I had to stay in the car and hope that a few beeps would attract the girls.
Thankfully Livvie was awake and recognised the SOS I was beeping. She came to see what was going on and then called on the other two. “You could have come and got us, Mummy.”
“No I couldn’t, Trish, and don’t be so cheeky.”
“Well why couldn’t you?”
“Because I stopped to help with an accident and my trousers are all covered in blood.”
“Ewwchh,” the three of them said but it ended the argument.
Back home I stripped showered and put my trousers in the wash with some of a biological enzyme powder in addition to my usual stuff and switched on the washer.
“What happened this time?” asked Stella, never one to beat about the George dubyah.
“I happened on an accident.”
“And your legs spontaneously bled?”
“No.”
“Well spill the beans.”
“Nothing else to tell.”
“What, just an accident and you come home dripping blood everywhere?”
“Yeah, now excuse me, I want to wipe down the car seat before it dries.” I bustled out of the door with a bucket of soapy water and a wash cloth. It took me about half an hour before I had everything clean to my satisfaction and had just poured the water down the drain by the kitchen window when a police car came up the drive and out stepped Andy Bond.
“Hello, Andy, this a social call? I’ll put the kettle on.”
“Sorry, Lady C, bit short on time.”
“So?”
“Okay, I cut to the chase. There was an accident up in North Hampshire at which a cyclist was knocked off her bike.”
“Yes I know.”
“So are you admitting to stopping and giving assistance?”
“Why? Has she died or something?”
“No–they don’t usually when you call by, do they?”
I shrugged, admitting nothing.
“Your car has been identified as having stopped there. As far as we’re concerned it was a hit and run, why I’m here–did you see anything?”
“No, I happened on it a few minutes later when some twit was doing his best to kill her with ignorance.”
“Oh.”
“So I offered to take over and sent him to call the cavalry because they way she was looking, she was going to die.”
“She didn’t.”
“So you said.”
“Did you see who she was?”
“I assume she still is.”
“You know what I mean,” he sighed and rolled his eyes.
“It was the Olympic road racer, Sandra Birtles, one of Team GB.”
“Did she die?”
“No.”
“Oh good.”
“But she could have, had I not happened along.”
“Did you see the couple fighting?”
“They were only arguing when I left.”
“Why did you leave the scene?”
“I had to collect children from school–I do have other tasks besides saving the world single handed, you know?”
He smiled, “My elbow feels tons better, thanks.”
“Which is why you volunteered to come and speak to me.”
He blushed, “That obvious, eh?”
I nodded.
“Okay, I don’t think we need a statement but if you think about anything later give me a shout. See ya,” he got back in his car and drove off. Such a nice man.
I went back into the house to put the bucket and cloth back when Stella loomed up, “And just what did the police want?”
“They were questioning me about a report of a university lecturer who strangled her nosy sister in law.”
“Oh, colleague of yours was she?”
I just looked at her and wondered if it was me, but at that moment banging my head against a wall did seem a reasonable alternative. I put the bucket and cloth away, “Where’s David?” I asked my as yet unstrangled sister in law.
“Oh, I thought you knew, he went off for the day with Ingrid and her daughter.”
“Why should I know–I’m only his employer?”
“Well I knew you wouldn’t mind, anyway, what are we having for dinner?” Yes, banging my head against a wall was a very reasonable alternative.
“I have no idea, but I suppose I’d better check and see what’s here.” I looked in the freezer and pulled out large bag of frozen minced beef. I knew we had an industrial size tin of tomatoes and loads of pasta. “Spag bol,” I announced.
“Oh not again,” she whinged.
“Well if you’d like to do something else, feel free, bearing in mind it’s half past four.”
“What’s for tea, Mummy?” asked Trish.
“Spaghetti bolognaise,” I retorted.
“Oh good-oh, it’s spag bol,” she shouted to the rest.
“Looks like I’m out-voted again,” Stella turned smartly on her heel and left the kitchen.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks.
Comments
The blue light.
Agh, so the blue light returns Ms Cameron. What's more important is it seems to return on demand. Does this mean Ms Cameron is back on good terms with the Shekinar?
I can only hope that DS Bond keeps the proverbial gob shut!
Thanks Ang, a happy outcome I hope.
Hugs.
Bevs.
Food
It just occurs to me that when I was Trish and Livvie's age I'd never even heard of spag bol (I'm not even sure tinned spaghetti, the only sort I knew for years, was available). I ate my first ever curry when I was 17. The standard British diet (and mine) has changed dramatically in the last 60/70 years. However few of us were overweight and the ration was generally adequate and healthy. The main problem was overcooking greens and salt added to everything.
Looks like Cathy's saved a fictional Laura Trott. Will she be meeting Dave Brailsford next and joining Sky as a therapist? :)
Robi
You left out
The meat cooked until it was white, the vile spotted dick, and many other insufferables. And no one liked "that foreign muck". I am surprised anyone survived.
One of the other
things about food we get nowdays is the constant pressure to eat in a healthy manner, I cannot imagine what dieticians would have made of what was one of mine and many others peoples favourite treat.. I'm talking about the fat you get from meat, Over here its called dripping and my favourite way of eating it was spread on a slice of thick toast with a sprinkling of salt..... Really really bad for you i know, But the taste was lovely and it also fitted in with the 1950s ethos of never wasting any of your food...
Kirri
How about...
Fried bacon - then onions fried in the onion grease... between two pieces of toast.... YUMMY (I think... Haven't had it in over 30 years... This health thing, I think.)
Annette
Does this mean the Cathy might be invited on a ride
... with Team GB at a special invite. Now, THAT, would be motivation to get in shape again.
Kim
Wonder if a member of Team
GB will show up for some of Cathy's spaghetti bolognaise?
May Your Light Forever Shine
The Blue Light does it again
and I must agree with another comment - it seems the blue light is responding on demand and doing what it is asked to do. Is Cathy and the Shekinah about to have another talk? And what will the outcome of that be?
Ang, I recall you saying very early in the story something to the effect that you didn't really plan where the story was going. You just let the characters go where they wanted to go. You and the characters are doing a great job, so just let it continue. The rest of us can just speculate what is to come. Give the kitties some scritches, scratches and tummy rubs for me, and perhaps just a wee bit of catnip - we don't want them to abuse it!
Don't let someone else talk you out of your dreams. How can we have dreams come true, if we have no dreams?
Katrina Gayle "Stormy" Storm
appreciating it
as always. Cathy and crew continue to surprise and delight.
Distraction technique
Cathy wanted the energy to do its stuff, but she was also slightly concerned about knowledge of it seeping out. So the energy uses its claivoyance skills to point out the affair - the ensuing fisticuffs provides a useful distraction technique as everyone focuses on the fight than the patient.
Both Cathy and the energy are getting smarter - after all, only a few episodes ago when Monica was in the hospital, Cathy instructed the energy to do its work invisibly and it obeyed.
As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!