Page 10 - Bottle

"I'm here," he said quietly. But Tim was silent.
"They get the driver?"

"Yeah, after hitting her he went straight into the
lights opposite. Cracked his head on his steering
wheel. Brian said he wanted to pull him out and
give him a pasting. But there was blood all over his
face and the people from the bus stop had come
over. I think the bus driver called for help." He
paused. "She didn't suffer. It was instant."

Kevin tried to visualise the accident. He tried to
see her hurt and broken, lying on the hard road,
her face covered in blood. He tried to feel her hurt.
He didn't want it. He didn't want any of it. "He got
across okay, but she was following." Why wasn't
he with her? Why wasn't it him? Wanker.

"Kevin?"
"Yeah, Tim, sorry. It's a little hard to take."
"Yeah," he said, beginning to talk like Kevin.
"I'm sorry, mate."
"Yeah." It sounded as though Tim had placed
his hand over the mouthpiece. He couldn't hear
the children in the background. Then he could
hear them and Tim said: "Kevin, I'm sorry, I've got
to go. You're coming on Wednesday?"
"Yes."
"We'll see you then."
"Yeah."
"Bye."
"Bye."

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