An Unexpected Turn of Events

by Sara Browning

It happened when I was walking through the narrow alley that runs between Cotton Lane and the Eccleston Housing Estate. It isn’t a place I would usually walk, in fact walking isn’t my usual form of getting from one place to another, but on that particular day I had no choice. It had snowed overnight and two inches of snow had brought the country to its knees. I’m an inherently lazy person and more than inclined to drive wherever possible, or if it isn’t possible, then to send someone else. Many is the time I have bribed and blackmailed my friends and colleagues to run errands and messages for me when, if I could have been bothered to get off my chair, I could quite easily have gone myself!

The alley, known locally as The Split because it divides the village-like cluster of houses in Cotton End and the new ‘social housing’ estate of Eccleston, is a notorious meeting place for those little gaggles of teenagers who all wear identical clothing even though the thought of conforming is an idea they would spit on, and speak in a language understood only by themselves. In fairness, there isn’t a lot else they can do; they’re too big for the park, too old for what passes as our adventure playground, too young for the pub and too proud to enjoy the activities the local youth worker does his best to organise. But because I had run out of washing up liquid, potatoes and cheese, and was hurtling towards the deadline for my unfinished magazine article, displacement activities were called for and, even though it was icy, I set off into town, taking the short cut through The Split.

I had slithered, slid and cursed my way half way along the alley when I heard voices. They were coming from just beyond the curve which took the path on a detour around an ancient copse with a cast-iron preservation order. I dug my hands deeper into my coat pockets, checked my mobile was still there, pulled my bag closer to me and decided the best bet was just to keep walking, avoid eye contact with whoever it was and get into town with as little fuss as possible.

The next thing I knew I was flat on my back with an incredible pain shooting from my left ankle to my hip, a thumping head and a shower of gold stars in front of my eyes, and because I had had my hands shoved into my pockets, both my elbows were throbbing from the impact of hitting the ground. I had no idea what had happened to me and for a moment, I couldn’t see anything apart from shadowy figures and the stars that were dancing on the edges of my vision.

Slowly, the swirling greyness began to clear and in its place I could see that the shadowy figures were in fact real people; three of them. All wearing hoodies and scarves. Two were kneeling next to me peering into my face and the other one standing by my feet. I could feel panic rising up inside me. Had I been mugged, were they about to go through my bag and my pockets, what else were they capable of? These thoughts all jumbled through my mind as I tried to make sense of what they were saying, but at first, all I could hear were words which sounded odd and disjointed. Gradually, I controlled the roaring panic and tried to slow my breathing as the words joined up into sentences, and they didn’t sound as threatening as I had feared.

I struggled to sit up but the pain in my leg intensified and I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t move anyway because my hands were still trapped in my pockets.

 “I don’t fink you should be moving, Mrs, your leg don’t look too good.
 
 “Yeh, he’s right, Miss, your leg looks well bad. An’ your head’s bleedin’ too, so I fink you should just stay there.”
 
 “Anyway, Boz jus’ called the ambulance, so you should wait. You might make it worse, innit.”
 
 “Yeh, we did first aid at college and old people’s bones are like, brittle, or somefing, so you might have broke your hip, like.”
 
 “Oh…My…God! Boz! Don’t call her OLD! That’s like, so rude!”
 
 “Boz, is they coming yet? She went down like, really hard and it’s cold.”
 
 “Yeah, man, they’re on their way, I just gotta tell them where we are, like, and I can’t make them understand where The Split is. Layla? Come and tell them, you know how to talk better than me.”
 
“Hey, Mrs, are you alright. Can you see me? Can you breathe, what’s your name, Mrs, is your scarf too tight?”

“Shut up! You’re asking too many questions, she’s probably got, like concussion innit. She don’t want you keeping on with twenty things you always wanted to know.”

In the background I could hear the boy on the phone becoming more and more agitated as he tried to explain our whereabouts. I tried to speak because I needed them to get the ambulance as quickly as possible; I was beginning to hurt all over and I was freezing cold. I’m not sure what came out of my mouth but it got their attention.

  “Alright, Miss? Wassamatter? What’re you sayin’?”
 
  “Layla! Get here and talk to this woman on the phone!”
 
  “Blimey, Boz, can’t you do nothin’? Gimme that phone.”
 
Layla left my side as she spoke, and through the fog of pain and fear, I heard her chatting on the phone with a confident voice that was very different from the voice she had previously used. I didn’t care; I just wanted her to sort this mess out so the ambulance knew exactly how to find me. My God, this wasn’t the middle of the arctic!

“S’alright now, Miss, Layla’ll tell ‘em how to get here and then you’ll be ok, once they’re here cos, they like, know what they’re doin’ and all that. You look cold, Miss, I’m gonna put my coat over you.”

I saw him pull his hoodie over his head and watched as he laid it carefully over me. Then he took his scarf off and folded it up before gently lifting my head and placing it between my head and the snowy path.

“Thass a bit better, innit, Miss. You don’t want to be laying about in the snow for too long. You’ll get that pneumonia stuff and that’s not good. Dink! Give us yer coat, man, she’s freezing.”

Another jacket was placed over me and I saw Dink unwrap his scarf and lay it across my legs. I really was cold and despite their best efforts, nothing was making me warmer. I couldn’t feel my feet at all and all I could feel of my arms was a dull throbbing. My head was pounding and despite all my shivering, my leg felt as though it was on fire.

Layla bent down, took my hand and told me that the ambulance was in its way and that Boz was going to go out onto the main road to meet them. Her voice was kind and gentle and I must have drifted into unconsciousness because I don’t remember much after that until I woke up in hospital, waiting to have my broken bones plastered, and all my other bumps and bruises tended.

All that was over a month ago, and I’ve been hobbling about moaning ever since. I’ve driven everyone mad and alienated most of my visitors, all that is except three. Dink, Boz and Layla.

They’ve been to see me every day, bringing all kinds of gifts with them, from bottles of wine, (I didn’t ask how they managed to buy it), to bunches of early Daffodils and even a CD of a group I’d never heard of but enthused about anyway.

They are the funniest people I know. They are accepting, undemanding, non-judgemental and above all, curious. They ask non-stop questions, rifle through my book shelves and my CD racks, open my cupboards and they’ve even ventured into the garden to poke about in the flower beds. We talk about every subject you can imagine, including things I would never have thought I would hold conversations about, like under-age sex and the finer details of Facebook.

In all honesty, they probably saved my life. If they hadn’t found me when I’d turned my ankle and slipped on the ice, I don’t think I would have survived the cold for very long and I can’t bear to think of the consequences. I made snap judgements about them, and I was proved wrong. They were all brilliant. They visited me in hospital and have been visiting me ever since. My older friends think it’s all a bit strange, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

After all, life is well bad, and it’s all about yer mates. Innit?

1st Prize - An Unexpected Turn of Events by Sara Browning