offloaded both.
Amanda slid off the stool and whispered in his ear that she’d be back soon. She floated away, glancing back. Sensual poetry; just for him.
But he knew her game.
Matt waited until she’d disappeared and drained his glass before heading towards the three other men at the pool table. He shook hands all round, overplaying the modesty as they cheered him all the way to the door. The car park was pretty much empty, and the road outside clear, unsurprising given the pitch winter blackness, and the Baltic temperatures to match. But none of that bothered Matt as he strode towards the C Class, confident that he wouldn’t be over the limit, not after two glasses of champagne.
He hit the start button and pulled smoothly on to the high road, feeling the surge of the V6 , savouring the way Harman Kardon speakers reproduced the first movement of Piano Concerto 21 as if Mozart were playing live in the back seat. He drove until he saw the sign for Oak Drive, a sweeping diversion that dived gracefully between crossroads. He took the turn. This route home was longer, but it allowed him to dream.
He ghosted down the hill, watching the houses retreat further from the road, heavier gates and taller foliage filling the gaps as the street grew darker beneath ever more elegant lights. He passed the dip and began to climb, slowing up, craning his neck for a glimpse of Treetops, a modern architectural masterpiece he’d sold not long after Harry took him on. He knew the current owner was looking to move. Another few months like this, and Matt might be doing a lot more than dreaming about the place …
The bang shook Matt from his fantasy. Something crunched against the front-left corner of the bonnet and ground along the wing.
‘Fuck!’ He gripped the wheel as it jerked in his hands, jamming the brakes on as he felt the rear of the car jump over something in the road.
The Mercedes pulled up sharply as Matt stared in his mirror, heart thumping, cursing his lack of awareness. Had he drifted into the kerb and glanced off one of the huge cornerstones some of these properties used to mark their driveways? Or maybe some dickhead had left their recycling bin out on the wrong day.
He couldn’t see a thing in the inky blackness. Better check, though; the car might be damaged. He’d only had the thing a bloody week.
Matt flung open the door and climbed out, looking back down the road, failing to see what he’d hit. He strode round to the front, anticipating a dent in the bumper, a broken headlamp, at least. But when he got there the xenon light was fine, its sleek housing completely intact. Matt bent and stroked a hand along the Mercedes’ flank. There was damage, but nowhere near as bad as he’d expected.
He straightened, now even more curious to see what he’d hit, moving along the car’s flank, his vision still impaired by the glow from inside the cabin.
Matt reached the back of the car, squinting into the darkness as he moved past its glaring red LEDs. There was definitely something in the road. Then he saw the bike.
And the young boy lying in the road next to it. Dark clothing; no lights.
Oh fuck!
Matt’s gut twisted as the chilling scene established itself as reality. Seconds passed. He saw himself running towards the boy, shouting for anyone who could hear to call an ambulance.
But he hadn’t moved.
Something held him fast, just staring at the kid. And then he realized what it was.
He’d been drinking.
Suddenly the future was playing itself out in his mind; nightmare flashes of what would begin as soon as he dialled 999 . His whole life ripping apart.
Then everything became a blur.
Headlights appeared, a quarter of a mile away on the crest of the hill. Another car had turned on to the road. Matt found himself walking back to his Merc, sliding into the seat, checking as the door closed and the interior lights faded that the street around him was still deserted.
Then he was driving away.
He watched the
Amanda slid off the stool and whispered in his ear that she’d be back soon. She floated away, glancing back. Sensual poetry; just for him.
But he knew her game.
Matt waited until she’d disappeared and drained his glass before heading towards the three other men at the pool table. He shook hands all round, overplaying the modesty as they cheered him all the way to the door. The car park was pretty much empty, and the road outside clear, unsurprising given the pitch winter blackness, and the Baltic temperatures to match. But none of that bothered Matt as he strode towards the C Class, confident that he wouldn’t be over the limit, not after two glasses of champagne.
He hit the start button and pulled smoothly on to the high road, feeling the surge of the V6 , savouring the way Harman Kardon speakers reproduced the first movement of Piano Concerto 21 as if Mozart were playing live in the back seat. He drove until he saw the sign for Oak Drive, a sweeping diversion that dived gracefully between crossroads. He took the turn. This route home was longer, but it allowed him to dream.
He ghosted down the hill, watching the houses retreat further from the road, heavier gates and taller foliage filling the gaps as the street grew darker beneath ever more elegant lights. He passed the dip and began to climb, slowing up, craning his neck for a glimpse of Treetops, a modern architectural masterpiece he’d sold not long after Harry took him on. He knew the current owner was looking to move. Another few months like this, and Matt might be doing a lot more than dreaming about the place …
The bang shook Matt from his fantasy. Something crunched against the front-left corner of the bonnet and ground along the wing.
‘Fuck!’ He gripped the wheel as it jerked in his hands, jamming the brakes on as he felt the rear of the car jump over something in the road.
The Mercedes pulled up sharply as Matt stared in his mirror, heart thumping, cursing his lack of awareness. Had he drifted into the kerb and glanced off one of the huge cornerstones some of these properties used to mark their driveways? Or maybe some dickhead had left their recycling bin out on the wrong day.
He couldn’t see a thing in the inky blackness. Better check, though; the car might be damaged. He’d only had the thing a bloody week.
Matt flung open the door and climbed out, looking back down the road, failing to see what he’d hit. He strode round to the front, anticipating a dent in the bumper, a broken headlamp, at least. But when he got there the xenon light was fine, its sleek housing completely intact. Matt bent and stroked a hand along the Mercedes’ flank. There was damage, but nowhere near as bad as he’d expected.
He straightened, now even more curious to see what he’d hit, moving along the car’s flank, his vision still impaired by the glow from inside the cabin.
Matt reached the back of the car, squinting into the darkness as he moved past its glaring red LEDs. There was definitely something in the road. Then he saw the bike.
And the young boy lying in the road next to it. Dark clothing; no lights.
Oh fuck!
Matt’s gut twisted as the chilling scene established itself as reality. Seconds passed. He saw himself running towards the boy, shouting for anyone who could hear to call an ambulance.
But he hadn’t moved.
Something held him fast, just staring at the kid. And then he realized what it was.
He’d been drinking.
Suddenly the future was playing itself out in his mind; nightmare flashes of what would begin as soon as he dialled 999 . His whole life ripping apart.
Then everything became a blur.
Headlights appeared, a quarter of a mile away on the crest of the hill. Another car had turned on to the road. Matt found himself walking back to his Merc, sliding into the seat, checking as the door closed and the interior lights faded that the street around him was still deserted.
Then he was driving away.
He watched the
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