Tuesday morning. Absolutely the worst day of the week by virtue of the dreaded department meeting. I was almost out of the door, in fact about to set the alarm when I heard it - the squealing of brakes, a strangled yelp and the unmistakable crunch of one car hitting another. With a feeling of dread I pulled open the front door offering a silent prayer that the accident wasn't too bad. I seriously wasn't expecting my car to be involved, but there it was, perfectly parked with a large dark blue SUV seemingly embedded in it at a 45 degree angle. Dumping my briefcase in the doorway, I literally flew off the step, whispering 'please, please, please' thinking maybe this isn't as bad as it seems. It was. My driver's door was caved in, the window shattered and the steering wheel buckled, I didn't dare guess the other bodywork damage. And it got worse. Feeling extremely sick I realised that crushed and mangled between the two cars was a bicycle.
'Oh my god, oh my god, where's the rider?' I shrieked, suddenly remembering the driver of the SUV and yelling through her windscreen. She was an elderly lady, grey hair, glasses. She was gripping the steering wheel and staring straight ahead, she looked catatonic. Beginning to seriously panic and almost too frightened to look under the car, I started to run back to my bag to grab my phone. I was nearly back in the house when movement to my right caught my eye. She was a full 10 metres away from my car; I shuddered to think how she had ended up there and knew she must have been catapulted off her bike in the impact.
Of course I ran immediately to her aid as she tried to stand. Horrified, I saw the blood dripping off her chin and noticed her hands and forearms grazed and bleeding. I was almost close enough to touch her when she turned on me, her eyes burning with fury.
'She thinks I hit her' I thought, and was trying to find a way to reassure her when she started to speak.
'You stupid fucking bitch' she spat and amazingly threw a weak punch at me. With a startled little squeak I skipped backwards away from her flailing right hook. She started to stumble, her face wracked with pain and I managed to reach her before she crashed to the floor. Thankfully my neighbour, Beth, chose that moment to arrive back from her early school run. A nurse, she quickly assessed the situation and was calling the emergency services as I sat on the pavement cradling a bleeding, sobbing, lycra clad girl against my shirt. It was only 30 minutes later, after the cyclist had been transferred to hospital and the old lady had been finally coaxed from her car that the policeman taking my statement suggested I should change before work. My clean white shirt and suit jacket were both spattered with her blood. On the bright side, I missed the department meeting.
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Later that week I was relaxing at home, clad in my favourite jeans, enjoying coffee and the Sunday papers when the doorbell rang. I recognised her immediately. The chin red and angry with stitches, forearms in gauze bandage and standing awkwardly on crutches.
'Erm', she started nervously, not sure I have the right address.'
'I'm sure you have', I said kindly, 'I hope you're not going to try and hit me again?'
'Oh god, I'm so sorry, that's why I'm here, to apologise. I was so shocked and upset, I'm not sure I knew what I was doing'. Her amazingly blue eyes pleaded with mine, clearly embarrassed. 'And they said you helped me, I can't stop feeling so bad that I yelled at you, oh god, I swore as well...' her voice began to trail off and I saw her beautiful eyes fill with tears.
'It's fine, it's ok', I stammered, 'it was a horrible accident, please don't worry about what you said'. I felt so powerless as she started to cry, struggling to keep her balance on the crutches, and suddenly I was holding her, helping her stay upright as she sobbed on my shoulder again. Her hair smelled of lemons.
She regained her composure quickly and I suggested I make tea, more for something to do than anything else. I led her into my kitchen and she sagged against a tall stool.
'My name is Alex, I said, handing her a tissue, Alexandra Hope. I'm very glad to see you are nearly ok, did you break your ankle?'
'I did', she replied fixing me with her startlingly blue eyes again, 'apart from that, just cuts and scrapes. And lots and lots of bruises', she chuckled. 'Another 4 to 6 weeks and I will be fine'. I'm Katherine Hamilton by the way, please call me Kate.'
I smiled at her and we both relaxed. I made tea and we chatted. She was a student, in her final year of a molecular biology degree, doing bike courier work as an income supplement.
'That's a bit stuffed for a while' she mused sardonically.
I told her I was a corporate lawyer and we talked about the driver who had hit her and the insurance battle that was building up. Eventually, she made a move to leave.
'How did you get here?' I asked, curious.
'The bus.'
'You walked here from the high street on crutches?'
'Yep.'
Her blue eyes challenged me, a measure of her independence. She didn't, however, look too happy about the return journey so I offered to take her home in my rental but she refused, politely.
'OK, at least let me drive you to the bus stop, I need to pop into town.'
I was lying, but she agreed so it was worth it.
That evening as I read through papers before bed I found all I could think about were blue eyes and hair that smelled of lemons. Mentally slapping myself, 'who are you kidding Alex?'
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Later on that summer I was invited to my baby brothers annual birthday barbeque. I loved Tom very much and I adored Maggie my sister-in-law. She was funny and bubbly and had always made me feel exceptionally welcome in their large chaotic home. I found her in the kitchen, beautifully pregnant with their third child. Harry and Emma, 4 and 5, always happy and always together had pounced on me at the door and were now rooting happily through my bag. Yes, I spoiled them rotten!
I glanced into the garden where the other guests were milling and saw her immediately. I stopped and stared, I know I did. I took in her dark blond hair just touching her shoulders and her ready smile with small white teeth. Seeing her for the first time without scrapes and crutches she looked fresh and relaxed and I realised my heart was pounding in my chest.
'Oi, wake up and help me Al'
Maggie's words made me jump guiltily and I coloured as I saw her look at me searchingly. So I smiled and dutifully prepared salad and cut bread. Two very quick glasses of sauvignon blanc later I found the courage to venture outside and, of course, Kate was the first person I managed to bump into. She recognised me and her face broke into a wonderfully genuine smile that took my breath away.
'Alex, hi, how are you? It's really good to see you again'
'You too' I replied, 'it's great to see you looking so much better'