He paused before giving her an answer she’d never expected: ‘There’s somebody else.’
Sophie got out of the way.
She propped herself against the doorframe and watched Jonah bumping the case back downstairs, this time holding on to the banister and gouging channels into the wall opposite. She needed to do something, took a moment to rush in and check that Laura was still asleep, then hurried down behind him. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs Jonah was already dragging the case down the two doorsteps. In her haste, she wrenched her ankle as she stepped off the bottom stair and saved herself from falling only by catching hold of the scratchy newel post. She sagged against it, trying to make sense of what was happening. But there was no sense to be had. No sense at all. Through the doorframe she could see Jonah balancing his case as he rearranged the boot of his BMW, which was parked immediately outside on the double yellow lines. The driver’s door was hanging open, obstructing much of the pavement. She limped forward.
Clearly, Sophie was painfully ill-prepared for this situation. It was not that she was a particularly naïve person, it was just that she had always trusted Jonah; trusted him in a way that caused her never to have suspected adultery. As she pursued her abandoning partner, she became so overwhelmed by the mix of revelation and emotion that she was barely capable of functioning and as she hurried, shoeless, down the two doorsteps and across the pavement towards him, she felt her twisted ankle fail her. Pointlessly, she grasped the air ahead of her, tripped and stumbled forward. Unable to cancel her increasing momentum, she tumbled down the kerb towards Jonah, the whole weight of her small frame impacting his shoulder. Jonah spun round to push her away but was thrown off balance by the weight of his suitcase as it pivoted back against his elbow. As Sophie’s arms folded around his chest and his hands flailed around her, lifting her and hugging her in an attempt to pull himself back, he too began to tumble. Trapped in their inappropriate embrace, they both fell heavily backwards towards the traffic and dangerously close to the path of an oncoming petrol tanker. The dismayed driver overreacted, swerved, narrowly missed an oncoming cab and came to a standstill just by the traffic lights. His frantic reaction caused a sequence of insurance-worthy bumper collisions, a bruised cyclist and a buckled bicycle wheel, but it had guaranteed a safe distance between the wheels of his tanker and the plummeting couple.
Unfortunately, though they were saved from a crushing end, all was not well. With Sophie’s weight added to his own, Jonah’s trajectory towards the ground had been harsh and unstoppable and all that had prevented his head striking the unforgiving road surface was the sharp corner of his toolbox, which he had removed from the boot and placed behind him to make room for his case. Sophie both heard and felt Jonah’s skull break as she landed on top of him. Automatically, she pushed away from him and felt herself roll off and down towards the gutter just as Jonah’s suitcase landed beside the toolbox, burst open and emptied its contents over Jonah’s unconscious body. A young woman on the pavement screamed and fell back onto Sophie’s steps. Horns sounded. Someone yelled.
Sophie lay still. She could smell the warm, dirty tar of the road beneath her cheek. She could hear shouting and car alarms. She tried to remember what was happening. Pulled herself up. She didn’t think she was hurt. Just her ankle. Jonah was lying a short distance away. His head was covered in shirts and socks but she knew it was him. He wasn’t moving. Somebody touched her hand and told her not to move. She glanced up to see the driver of the tanker leap down from his cab and hurry over. He threw himself onto his knees, started to pull away the contents of the case to investigate Jonah, uncovered his head and instantly vomited over Jonah’s outstretched arm. With the shroud removed, Sophie could see a thick pool of blood collecting beneath Jonah’s neck and running with the camber of the road towards her. His face was turned away from her but she could make out one of his ears with an attached patch of scalp lying on the road just beyond his head. She felt a numbing wave rise through her, felt someone’s arm around her encouraging her to turn away. She tried to resist but she was made of nothing. ‘Is he all right?’ she asked the arm that was holding her.
‘There’s an ambulance on its way,’ said someone.
‘He’s still breathing,’ said someone else.
Moments passed. Sophie watched Jonah from her sitting position. He continued to not move. The pool of blood stopped getting bigger and started to seep into the dry road surface. Blood that ought to have been inside Jonah. A police car arrived and parked in front of the BMW. One of the police officers pulled out a blanket and arranged it over Jonah’s legs. Another officer led the distressed lorry driver to the patrol car, radioed for assistance, then hurried over to deal with the traffic that was building up on both sides of the road.
Sirens drew closer then stopped abruptly as an ambulance manoeuvred its way into the space behind the truck. Yellow-clad people leapt out and ran to investigate. One yellow man assessed Sophie then joined the others who were tending to Jonah. She couldn’t see what they were doing to him. A policeman squatted beside her, took down details: ‘Jonah Royston… 39… 76 Tanner Street… Sophie… will he be all right?’
Passers-by had congregated. Some of them were now managing to divert their attention away from the carnage and were taking the opportunity to glance in through Sophie’s open door, others were peering in through her lounge window. Some responsible parents overcame their desire to look and pulled their children away.
Assisted by the gentle breeze, some of the lighter items of Jonah’s clothing were now dispersing themselves across the carriageway. Sophie could see Jonah’s green corduroy jeans emerging from under an ambulance wheel. His library book had flapped open and the slip of paper that was marking his place was spiralling away towards the traffic lights. A second police car arrived. Two more officers, one man, one woman. Sophie felt herself being helped to her feet, encouraged towards her front door. She resisted. The female officer squeezed her hand. ‘They’ll take care of him. We need to get you inside.’
Sophie turned. Jonah was on a stretcher. He was being lifted into the ambulance. She checked the ground around the toolbox to make sure they hadn’t overlooked his ear and his tuft of hair. Jonah had always been very vain about his thick, black hair.
‘Why can’t I go with him?’
‘They’ll be working… helping him en route to A&E. We’ll follow on after,’ said the policeman. ‘Let’s get you some shoes first, shall we? Have you injured your foot?’
‘I twisted my ankle.’
‘Are you alone in the house?’ said the policewoman.
‘Yes. I want to go with him.’
* * *
They walked towards Sophie’s front door, Sophie between the two officers, slowly to accommodate her ankle. The crowd fell back, silent. The young woman who’d screamed was still sitting on Sophie’s top step, rubbing her eyes repeatedly, as if she was trying to suck the images back out of her mind along the same route that they had entered. She jumped up as they approached, pushed her dark hair away from her face. ‘The suitcase fell on them and pushed them over,’ she said.
‘Did you see that happen?’ said the policeman.