CHAPTER EIGHT
‘Are you okay?’ asked Ellis seeing my worried expression.
‘Yes. Fine. It’s my sister. I’m worried she might be thinking of driving home. But she’s been drinking. A lot.’
‘You think she might get behind the wheel?’ asked Wyatt, looking over at Blaize.
‘She’d better not,’ I said, worried. ‘The plan was for me to drive us all back home. I’ll just go and have a word.’ I smiled at them and dashed over.
Sure enough, Blaize was being her usual bull-headed self, saying she’d had enough of the pub and wanted to go home, and she was insisting she’d be fine to drive.
I knew that if she was sober, she’d never have suggested it. But in her agony over Dillon, she was three sheets to the wind and clearly not caring what happened to her.
Together with Kitty, I eventually managed to convince her it was a very bad idea and that if she would just be patient while Kitty finished her drink – she’d just started a gin and tonic – we’d all go home together.
Relieved that Blaize was abandoning her coat, albeit with a sulky expression, I dashed off to the Ladies, having drunk far too much boring lime and soda. But when I returned, Kitty and Blaize had vanished. And looking around for them, I was horrified to see Kitty arguing with Blaize at the door.
As I watched, Blaize dropped her coat and bag and staggered out of the pub. She swayed a little and I saw her hit her shoulder hard on the door surround, which must have really hurt. Then she was gone.
Kitty bent to pick up the coat and bag, then she hurried after her, and I also ran for the door.
We had to stop her getting behind the wheel!
In my panic, I was focused on reaching Blaize before she got in the car and started the engine, and only vaguely aware of someone sprinting past me, out into the street.
Then I realised it was Wyatt.
Out on the high street, Blaize was getting into the driver’s seat and slamming the door shut as I raced after Kitty and Wyatt. The roar of the engine as she started the car made my blood run cold.
But then Wyatt was diving into the road in front of the car . . . holding up his hands and waving them about . . . trying to stop her from driving away.
To my horror, Blaize seemed undeterred. She was probably too drunk to even see him there! Next second the car was moving out into the road.
People around me gasped as Wyatt threw himself onto the bonnet to stop her. And to my utter relief, Blaize braked hard and the car came to an abrupt standstill.
‘Hey, well done, mate!’ someone shouted. ‘You risked your life there stopping that dangerous idiot.’
‘Yeah. She looked well pissed getting behind the wheel,’ came another voice.
Kitty was climbing into the passenger seat and switching off the engine, and I bent and peered inside, my heart beating chaotically.
Thank goodness for Wyatt!
I felt sick, thinking what could have happened if Blaize had tried to drive home, the state she was in.
Ellis was clapping his friend on the back and making sure he was okay.
They’d both left the pub in just their shirt sleeves and Wyatt had gashed his arm when he’d leapt onto the car.
It looked as if it was bleeding heavily, but when I dashed over, he brushed off his injury and said he was just glad he’d been able to stop Blaize from driving away and potentially hurting herself or causing an accident.
‘That arm looks bad,’ I pointed out, worried. ‘It might need stitches.’
Ellis nodded, agreeing. ‘A&E. Let’s go, mate.’
Glad Ellis was taking charge, I thanked Wyatt again for his selfless bravery, jumping in front of the car, and I turned back to Blaize and Kitty.
Kitty was helping Blaize into the back seat so that I could take the wheel, then she ran round to the other side and got in beside her. And I slipped behind the wheel and started the engine.
Thankfully, the on-lookers on the high street had dispersed. I just hoped no one would report Blaize for trying to drive the car in an inebriated state . . .
‘Everyone okay back there?’ I glanced in the rear-view mirror at Kitty.
She nodded grimly. ‘We’re fine. Let’s just get her home to bed.’
‘Okay.’ I set off, and seconds along the road, Blaize’s head was already lolling on Kitty’s shoulder and she was out for the count . . .
*****
Next day, in the village store, I caught a glimpse of the local newspaper’s front page on the stand and stopped dead in my tracks.
The face smiling out at me was Wyatt’s!
His friend Ellis must have taken photos of him at the scene, sporting his injured arm, and when I picked up a copy of the paper, the story was there in full – presumably written by Ellis. It was all about local actor Wyatt’s bravery in averting a potential accident.
The paper had been running a campaign against drink-driving over the festive period and the headline read: Local Man is a Drink-Drive Campaign Hero!
I scanned the story worriedly, but there was no mention of Blaize. Thankfully, Ellis had kept her name out of it, his only description being ‘a young woman, looking as if she was well over the limit, was getting behind the wheel’.
I read on about Wyatt’s bravery and the praise heaped on him by passers-by who’d witnessed the incident. It was no more than he deserved . . . all these compliments from grateful strangers.
Blaize was the most grateful of all.
After that night, over a year ago, Blaize decided she wanted to fulfil a long-held dream. So she’d applied to study law at the local university and was accepted onto the course. She’d followed in my footsteps and was now a mature student, hoping eventually to train as a solicitor.