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“Oh Mack,” I say, my heart racing, “there are kids in the back.”
He pulls over and turns off the engine, and we get out. “Phone the police,” he says, “and ask for an ambulance too.”
With shaking hands, I retrieve my phone and dial 111, watching Mack run over to the car. “Police and ambulance please,” I tell the person on the other end of the line, and I proceed to tell her my name and what’s happened.
While I’m talking, Mack opens the driver’s door and helps the driver get out past the exploded airbag. It’s a woman in her thirties. She looks unhurt, but she’s crying and trembling. “My kids,” I hear her say as I move closer. “Are they okay?”
He goes to the back door and tugs it, but the chassis must be bent because it won’t open. A young girl who was also in the back climbs over into the front seat and out the driver’s door, and her mother sweeps her up into her arms, both of them crying.
Using all his strength, Mack finally wrenches open the passenger door, then ducks inside. I can hear him talking to someone, and then a minute later he emerges with a small boy, maybe a year old, clinging to him like a limpet.
“It’s all right,” he soothes, rubbing his back. “You’re okay.”
I finish the call, still shaking. Jesus, I think I’m going to throw up. I turn away, hands on my knees, then vomit into the grass on the verge.
Still carrying the boy, Mack comes over and rubs my back. “Are you all right?”
“I’m never going to drink again.”
“It’s the shock,” he says. “Deep breaths.”
Beside us, the woman comes up to make sure the boy is unharmed, and then her legs give out, and she crumples down onto the curb, the girl in her arms.
“I’m sorry,” the woman says in between sobs. “Harry was crying, and I turned in the seat for just a second to see to him, and I didn’t see the lights change. I’m so sorry.”
Wiping my mouth on a tissue, I kneel in front of her. “It doesn’t matter. The main thing is that you’re all okay. Look, Harry’s fine.” I nod toward Mack, who’s still holding the boy.
The woman wipes her nose and looks over her shoulder at the car. Her chin trembles. “My husband’s going to be furious. We don’t have car insurance.”
I feel for her. It’s not compulsory in New Zealand. Luckily she didn’t damage any other cars, but it means she’s going to have to pay for any work done to her car.
“Do you think it’s a write-off?” she whispers.
I look at Mack. “It might be recoverable,” he says, “but it’ll take a bit of work.”
More tears pour down her face. “Why did it have to happen at Christmas?” She puts her face in her hand and sobs. “Doug’s going to kill me.”
I do my best to comfort her, but she’s inconsolable. I get to my feet and give Mack a helpless look as we hear the first sirens in the distance. “I wish I could do something,” I say.
He nods at the police car as it approaches. “Can you explain to them what happened?”
“Sure.”
He pulls out his phone and walks a few steps away, still holding the boy. Holding the phone to his ear, he says, “Ricky? It’s Mack. Yeah, good thanks. Look, I wonder if you can do me a favor?”
I don’t get to hear the rest of the conversation because the police car has arrived. They put down a couple of traffic cones, and one officer begins diverting the traffic, while the other comes up to us. I give a brief explanation of what happened, and she bends to speak to the woman still sitting on the ground.
Not long after that, the ambulance arrives. Nobody looks badly hurt, but the paramedics check the woman and the girl over, and then the boy as Mack returns, pocketing his phone. The boy doesn’t want to let go of him, but eventually the paramedic peels him away.
“Hey, Evie,” he says to the police officer. Evie? Does he know everyone in this freaking city?
“Mack!” She smiles. “You okay? Not hurt?”
“No, no. We stopped in time. Look, I’ve made a call to Phelps Automotive, and they’re sending a tow truck to take the car back to the shop.”
“I can’t afford that,” the woman driver says from the back of the ambulance.
“It’s okay,” Mack says. “I know the owner, and they have a scheme where they put aside an amount of money each month for repairs for those who can’t afford it, a kind of pro bono thing. They’ll fix you up and get you and the kids home.”
