Role Model

by Becky Black

  “Wouldn’t she have already done that if she could?”

  Drew shrugged. “Can’t be sure with kids. With anyone. People act irrationally in those situations. She might have been too scared to move. She might not have wanted to leave her father. She might simply have been unable to get out of her child seat or seat belt. Anyway, she called back that she couldn’t move.”

  “And then?”

  Drew took a shaky breath and passed a hand over his face. “She was crying. It must have been worse for her, knowing we were so close. I called in on the radio again, that we had at least one survivor on scene, a child, probably trapped. The air ambulance could be there in minutes, but fire and rescue was fifteen minutes away.”

  He stopped again, eyes fixed not on Paul, not on anything.

  “Nerys was talking to her, trying to keep her calm, got her name from her. Then the truck made this…creaking noise.” He shivered. “It could have slipped, crushed the car, killed her any second. And I knew I didn’t have a choice.”

  “You decided to go in to get her.”

  “I didn’t even know if I’d be able to reach her. But I had to try. If she wasn’t physically trapped and I could have pulled her out but hadn’t, and then she was crushed…I couldn’t have dealt with that.” His voice shook, caught. He grabbed some tissues from a box on the table. “Sorry. Give me a second.”

  “It’s okay,” Paul said gently. “Take your time. He gave Drew a moment, jotted a couple of notes on his tablet. After a couple of minutes, Drew balled up the tissues, tossed them in a wastepaper basket.

  “Sorry,” he said, smiling weakly. “It…kind of hit me there. Reliving it, like you say.”

  “That’s fine. Go on when you’re ready. We’ve got all afternoon.”

  “Let’s get it done.” Drew squared his shoulders, sat forward. “When I told Nerys I was going to try to crawl in there, she said no way of course, ordered me not to. I told her if I couldn’t pull Lily straight out, that I’d come back out myself. I don’t think she believed me. Said I was potentially adding another casualty to the scene. She was right about it all, of course. It was a fucking stupid thing to do. Ah, sorry.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll edit the swearing out.”

  “It’s against all our rules to put ourselves in danger. It’s frustrating as hell sometimes. There’ve been times we’ve arrived on a scene and we can see the casualties, but the police hold us back until the scene is safe. I’ve wanted to punch coppers to get past them. But the rule is a good one. We’re no use to anyone if we become casualties, too.”

  “And yet that night, you broke the rules.”

  “I didn’t feel I had a choice. Or rather…I did. As a paramedic, I had the choice to obey the rule. Stay safe. Nobody could have condemned me for it. But as a man…I had none.”

  “Most people wouldn’t have done it.”

  “Wouldn’t they? I’m not so sure. I’ve seen people do heroic things for strangers. Run into burning houses. Tackle people wielding knives, even guns. It’s commoner than you think, Mr. Bradley.”

  “Paul. Please.”

  “Paul. I guess you’re a cynic. You see a lot of the worst of people in your job. Well, so do I. I see plenty to make me hate humanity. But other days I see amazing things. Amazing people. I work with coppers and fire officers who are heroes every damn day.” His voice rose. Paul smiled gently, trying to calm him, bring him back on track.

  “You’ve made me less cynical the last few days, Drew. Can you tell me what happened when you climbed inside the car?”

  Drew took a breath, refocused himself. “The truck had a container on it. That’s what was going to fall. It was starting to come loose from the trailer.”

  “Christ,” Paul muttered. The thought made him shudder.

  “The car was in the ditch, on its side. The driver’s side was downwards and stove in. That’s where Mr. Winslow was. I couldn’t get close enough to examine him, but there were…clear indications he was deceased. I don’t want to say anything more about that. For his family’s sake.”

  “Of course.”

  “Lily was in the back, on the passenger side of the car. Still strapped in her child seat.”

  “Was she trapped?”

  “Yes. The seat in front of her had been shoved back and trapped her legs. So even though I could have freed her from the child seat easily, I still couldn’t have pulled her out.”

  “And you’d promised Nerys you’d come back out if you couldn’t pull Lily out with you.”

  “Yeah. I lied.” He grimaced. “What could I do? Say ‘hang on, pet’ and leave her? I’d been able to reach her through the window, get a cervical collar on her, examine her a bit, check her pulse and breathing, look for any major bleeds. Once I did that she took hold of my hand. You know the way little kids can grip like a vise.”

  As if he couldn’t have freed himself if he wanted to. “Nerys must have been furious.”

  “She called me a few choice names, telling me to get my arse out now. I had to apologize to Lily for all the swear words.”

  “How long did you wait before Fire and Rescue showed up?”

  “Fifteen minutes or so for them. The police arrived first. They tried to order me out, too, but, well….”

  “It must have felt like a very long time.”

  “It did. I talked to Lily. Tried to keep both our minds off it all. The…noises of the wreckage settling. The smell of petrol. Because that was preying on my mind, I can tell you. If a fire had started I’d have….” He glanced at the recorder. “Off the record?” Paul paused the recording, and Drew went on. “I’d taken various tools in with me. If it came to that, I’d have got her out. I had the means to…cut through bone.”

  Paul suppressed a shudder. Drew held his gaze, then nodded at the recorder again. Paul restarted it, and Drew picked up the story, voice more upbeat. “We talked. About school. About her family’s dog and cat. About the TV shows she likes.”

  “Which are?” Paul liked details. It made the story come alive.

  “Dora the Explorer is the one she likes best, apparently. And Bob the Builder.” He chuckled. “My nephews love that. I babysit them, and they play the same DVDs over and over. I know whole episodes by heart.”

  “So you and Lily had a good long chat about Bob the Builder.” While they might be crushed by a container any moment, if the petrol didn’t ignite and burn them to death first, he talked to the kid about TV shows. “You must have nerves of steel.”

  Drew laughed, a rather hollow sound. “Definitely not. I was distracting myself as much as her. And I was thinking if the worst happened, the last thing I’d be thinking of is something good.”

  “Bob the Builder?”

  “Of watching it with my nephews. I’d be thinking of family. Of people I love.”

  That sobered them both for a moment. Paul made a mental note that they’d have to license a picture of Bob the Builder for the article.

  “So,” Paul prompted. “Fire and Rescue arrived. What then?”

  “They wanted me to come out. But Lily begged me to stay. Held onto my hand. So they had to work around me. They got some supports in to shore things up first. Then they worked on getting the car door off and the front seat out. Once they got started with the Jaws of Life and their bolt cutters, it didn’t take them long.”

  It had been long enough for Paul to get out of bed and up to the scene and get that picture. He was glad about that but sick to think of the ordeal it was for Drew and Lily.

  “It was almost scarier in some ways. Because being so close to rescue, the fear the container would come down at the last minute was worse. And I knew if something started happening before she was freed, a fire, or if the supports they’d put up started to go, the fire officers would drag me out of there whether I wanted to go or not.”

  “But you made it. They got her free.”

  “Yes. They got her legs free. I had to check for any serious bleeds before we moved her. The seat compressi
ng them would have slowed any bleeding until then. She was okay there, so I cut her out of her car seat straps and lifted her out.”

  “So you freed her yourself?”

  “Just that last bit. Once her legs were free, she was hanging in the straps. It was a bit of a tricky job to release her and not have her fall. And I was the only one far enough inside to do it. There was no room for me to change places with anyone.”

  “You came out carrying her.”

  “She wouldn’t let me go, and there was no room for a stretcher in there. I’d rather have had her on a back board, but there wasn’t room.” He smiled. “Anyway, she was okay on that score. No spinal injury.”

  “You coming out with her gave me that picture. I think it’s the best photo of my career.” He said it gratefully. He was grateful. And guilty, too, that two deaths and a horrible ordeal for two people had given it to him. But that was journalism. The worst horrors made the best stories.

  “That’s why I said yes to the interview,” Drew said. “I don’t mean because of the picture itself, but because you were there. You’re local. I’ve had a couple of offers from national papers. Offering money.”

  “Ah…we can’t pay you anything.”

  “I know. But you were there. You’d have a better feel for the story, I thought.”

  Paul wasn’t actually local as such. He’d come up north nearly a decade ago. Getting a good long way from home had been important to him. Staying away continued to be so. He had a flash of hope that Drew had another reason for granting the interview. That he’d wanted to see Paul again. He dismissed it as unlikely. Drew had seen him first in the harsh glare of the arc lights, then in the grayness of dawn. He couldn’t imagine Drew had been fantasizing about him since. But even if it was true, nothing could happen. Paul didn’t dare.

  “Are we finished?” Drew asked. He rubbed his eyes. His hands were shaking.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Sorry, it’s coming back to me again. I keep getting kind of shaky.” He smiled weakly. “The boss made me take a week off and says I have to talk to a counselor before I go back. They don’t want me suing them if I develop PTSD.”

  Paul knew a few emergency services workers who’d quit or gone on long-term sick because of that. That could be a good feature story, PTSD among first responders….

  “Let me make you a cup of tea,” Paul said. “You take it easy.”

  “Thanks. You…can wait around for a bit?”

  Paul’s heart skipped at the invitation, even if it was because Drew was afraid of being alone. He made two mugs of tea and brought them back to the living room. Drew had his face in his hands. Alarmed, Paul sat beside him and ventured a hand on his back.

  “Drink your tea,” he said when Drew looked at him, his eyes hazy, maybe reliving it again. “Can I call someone? Your parents or sister or”—did he have a boyfriend?—”someone. Have them come around. Or I’ll drive you round there.”

  “I’m fine.” His face cleared, and he picked up the mug of tea and blew on it, looking embarrassed. “Sorry. But I’m okay.”

  “If you have a nightmare, you can call me. Not for a story or anything. Just to talk it out. You have my card. Call anytime. I mean, if you don’t want to bother anyone else in the middle of the night.”

  “You don’t mind me bothering you in the middle of the night?”

  “I’m a reporter. I’m always being woken up in the middle of the night.”

  Drew smiled. “That’s kind of you. Thanks. I’ll try not to.”

  Paul wished he would, because he very much liked the idea of having Drew’s voice in his ear in the soothing darkness of the night.

  * * * *

  The next time he saw Drew was a week later at the inquest. Drew hadn’t called, so either he’d had no nightmares, or he hadn’t taken Paul’s offer seriously.

  Paul was in the press gallery for the inquest, and he spotted Drew in the public gallery. He wasn’t giving evidence. The case was pretty routine. The police presented their report, that the truck had skidded on wet roads, jackknifed, and struck the Winslow’s car, smashing in the driver’s side and pushing it into the ditch, where the car rolled over and then got stuck under the truck, turning over on top of it. Both drivers had been pronounced dead at the scene.

  Verdict: Accident.

  Paul caught up with Drew outside. He was smart in a gray suit but didn’t look especially comfortable.

  “Hi,” Paul said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I wouldn’t usually come to an inquest unless I was called to give evidence. But I wanted some closure on this one.”

  “How’s Lily getting on? Have you heard?”

  “She’s home with her mother. I guess they’re organizing the funeral.”

  “Have you visited?”

  “No. I don’t want to intrude.”

  “I’m sure Mrs Winslow wants to thank you for saving her daughter.”

  “She has. She sent me a letter. I might go to the funeral. For Lily’s sake. But….” He shifted his shoulders in his suit, as if he found it uncomfortable. “We’re not supposed to get emotionally involved. I visited Lily in hospital, and I probably shouldn’t have done that, but I think she needs closure, too. She just lost her dad, so I don’t want her to think I came along and then abandoned her.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a balancing act. I’m a paramedic. My job ends once I hand someone over to the hospital. But sometimes it’s harder to let them go.”

  “I’m sure. Ah…have you got time to go get a coffee? I’ve got some news for you.”

  They found a coffee shop near the court. The place was infested with lawyers and a couple of prominent local criminals Paul recognized.

  “So what do you have to tell me?” Drew asked when they sat with their coffee.

  “My editor has got you a nomination for the ‘emergency services workers’ category for the Britain’s Bravest awards.”

  “That was you? I got a letter this morning. I thought it was a hoax until I rang them up. They wouldn’t tell me who nominated me.”

  “It was actually the mayor. Him and my editor play golf together.”

  “But it was you, wasn’t it? Your idea, I mean.”

  Paul tried to look casual. He wouldn’t flat out lie. He was a great liar, of course; it went with the job. But he felt a reluctance to lie to Drew. “I may have suggested it. You’re a hero. You deserve recognition.”

  “I was just doing my job.”

  “You know that isn’t true.”

  “Then I was in the right place at the right time. I told you, Paul, lots of people would have done the same.”

  “Maybe,” Paul conceded. “But you did it, and you deserve the nomination.”

  “God, this is going to be so embarrassing at work.”

  “The awards are in London in two months. You’ll need a nice suit, preferably made to measure.”

  “What’s wrong with the suit I’m wearing?” Drew asked, looking affronted. “It’s my best one.”

  “It’s off the rack. You don’t look comfortable in it.”

  Drew sighed. “I’m not really a suit kind of guy. I’m either in my uniform or casual nearly all of the time.”

  “Doesn’t anyone ever take you out to a nice restaurant?”

  “Is that an offer?” He was teasing. Paul blushed, drank some of his coffee to cover it. “Anyway, knowing my luck, if we went to a fancy restaurant, I’d save someone from choking and you’d have to write a series about me.”

  Any reason to see him again….

  “I assumed rich doctors would be lining up to take you out,” Paul said.

  Drew looked at him narrowly. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Maybe one of them can be your date for the awards ceremony. It will look better if you have a date. Unless you’re already seeing someone, of course. Then you can bring them.”

  “That’s the most convoluted way anyone has ever asked me if I have a boyfriend.”

  Paul�
��s heart hammered in his ears. “Do you?”

  “No. Why are you so bothered about me taking a date? A guy? Think it spices up the story?”

  “No. But if you are….” He dropped his voice lower. “Gay I mean, you’re a good role model. You can show that gay people can be heroes, too.”

  “Why?” Drew asked coldly. “Is that in doubt?”

  “In the minds of some people.”

  Drew shook his head impatiently. “I’m not anybody’s role model. I’m just a man. And before you ask, no, I’m not in the closet. But I’m not going to be your model poof either.”

  “Drew—”

  “I’ve seen the way the papers work. How you build someone up as a hero, then take even more pleasure in finding the dirt on them, cutting them back down to size, punishing them like you hadn’t built them up in the first place.”

  Paul would bet that on his days off Drew used to tune into the live coverage of the more interesting Leveson inquiry witnesses.

  “I swear I’m not going to do that to you. I have a lot of respect for you.”

  “You aren’t the only journalist interested.”

  Well, those bitches can get their hands off my story.

  “I think you could make a difference, make a statement. The event is televised, you know. All you have to do is come along with a date, not make a speech about it. That’s the point, make it all seem…ordinary.”

  “Why are you so interested?” Drew asked. “Why about this in particular?”

  “I guess you’ve caught me out…. It is a good way to spice up the story.”

  * * * *

  Paul picked up the mobile ringing by his bed. One of the pictures from the photo session with Drew showed up on screen as caller ID. As Paul snuggled back under the covers, he glanced at the time. Four fifteen.

  “It’s me,” Paul said. “Did you have a nightmare?”

  “Yeah.” Drew’s voice sounded shaky. “And I remember you said if I did, I could call you. Is it okay?”

  “Of course.” Paul pictured Drew in his bed in that neat little house. Did he have a duvet or blankets? What did he wear? He must be alone if he’d called Paul instead of reaching for a warm body beside him. It had been two weeks since the inquest, and their contact had been sporadic, mostly by e-mail and text. It felt good to hear his voice again.