Chapter 62
Chapter Sixty-Two
Coming up to a level crossing, the lights had started flashing and the barrier slowly started to fall. He didn’t have time for this. He slammed his foot down hard on the accelerator and charged through, out the other side and continued his journey.
It wasn’t long before he saw flashing blue lights in his rear-view mirror. The siren came on.
‘Shit,’ he said to himself.
He slowed down his speed. The police car caught up with him, drew level, and signalled for him to pull over. He didn’t have any other choice.
He turned off the engine, lowered the driver’s-side window, and recoiled at the blast of wind.
‘Good evening,’ he said to the uniformed police officer.
‘In a hurry?’
‘I’m afraid I am, yes. I’m very late.’
‘I’m assuming you’d rather get there alive.’
‘Of course.’
‘You realise you drove through a level crossing with its warning lights flashing?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, I know. Normally, I wouldn’t. But, I’m sorry, I really am in a terrible hurry.’
‘Better to get there late in one piece than not there at all, sir.’
‘I know what you’re saying, I really do. Look, I’m aware what I did was wrong and it will carry some kind of penalty.’
‘I’m afraid it’s a little more serious than that.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Have you been drinking at all, this evening, sir?’
‘No. I haven’t.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘I’m … ah … actually, I may have had a glass of wine at lunch.’
‘Just the one glass, was it?’
‘I … no.’ He started to remember a lunch that lasted longer than expected. He suddenly realised he could be in a great deal of trouble here. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I…’
‘If you could blow into this for me, please, sir,’ the officer said, handing over the breathalyser.
‘Ah, is this really necessary?’
‘I wouldn’t have handed it to you if it wasn’t. Just blow into it nice and steady until I tell you to stop.’
He looked at the officer, took the breathalyser from him and composed himself. He licked his lips, took a deep breath, and blew, slowly, into the machine.
‘You can stop there now, sir,’ the officer said, taking the machine from him. He looked at the display. ‘I’d say more than one glass of wine, sir. Unless you had a generous helping of sherry trifle for dessert.’ He opened the car door. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to come to the station.’
‘I really don’t have time for this.’
‘The thing is, I don’t have time for drink-drivers.
I attended an incident last month. A bloke on his way home from winning a five-a-side football match.
Almost as much over the limit as you are, thought he was fine.
He knocked over a mother and her two children on a zebra crossing.
The mother is still in a coma. She doesn’t know her two kids have died yet.
And all because he couldn’t be arsed to get a taxi.
Out of the car, please, sir. Don’t make a scene. ’
He swallowed hard, unclipped his seatbelt, and slowly climbed out of the car.
‘Don’t forget your coat, sir. It’s a chilly one tonight.’