The Catalyst
‘And on that farm he had some pigs, e i e i o…’ The two little girls collapsed into the back seat of the car in fits of giggles as they snorted like pigs, their cheerful laughter drifting out of the open car windows into the heat of the August morning.
The woman in the front passenger seat drew in a deep breath and relaxed into the contours of the seat, briefly closing her eyes, a smile playing across her lips. It was good to get away, she thought, to enjoy some family time, and the day looked as if it was turning into an absolute scorcher. Perfect.
At the wheel of the bronze Ford Granada Scorpio, her husband concentrated on the road, well aware of his responsibility to his precious cargo. The rising temperature quickly burned off the surface water from the overnight rain and a heat haze ahead gave an ethereal feel to the landscape. Quietly humming along to the familiar children’s song, he dropped down a gear as the incline steepened and they approached a bend.
* * *
Sadly, not everyone was as circumspect that day. Heading towards the Granada was a white Transit van, an ancient model that had seen better days and was travelling far too fast for such a notorious stretch of road. A brash seventeen-year-old, yet to gain his full driving licence, was at the wheel, an arrogant youth, lightheaded from three cans of lager already consumed that morning and egged on by his eighteen-year-old friend.
‘Get the feel of the wheel,’ his friend goaded him into putting his foot down, but the approaching bend was much sharper than he anticipated and the befuddled, inexperienced driver struggled to control the vehicle. The road narrowed without warning and in order to avoid colliding with a barrier on the near side, he yanked the wheel sharply to the right, taking the van across the central white lines and onto the right-hand side of the road.
The driver of the Granada, turning into the same bend from the opposite direction, was suddenly confronted with the Transit van and instinctively swerved to his left to avoid a head-on collision. Unfortunately, he didn’t stand a chance and the Granada veered off the road through the flimsy weather-weakened crash barrier, which buckled immediately at the force of the impact, and the car plunged down a steep incline.
The vehicle bounced like a rubber ball as it gathered momentum, the occupants shocked and helpless, screaming in panic and wild fear without the slightest hope of being heard. Shattering glass and crunching metal coalesced with the occupants’ screams, drowning out the children’s CD, which still merrily played its tune. The airbags activated and the seat belts held, but nothing could save them. Four precious lives ended abruptly that day in such a cruel, violent and unnecessary way, the ugly reality of death incongruous on such a glorious summer day.
The trembling pale-faced driver of the van swung the wheel to his left and narrowly avoided colliding with the near-side barrier. He was well aware of what had happened, as was his passenger, but he drove on shakily, fear and guilt washing over him in equal measures. He stopped the van in a passing place about half a mile down the road, exited his vehicle, and vomited violently at the side of the road.
His friend jumped out too. ‘What the hell happened?’
‘It was your fault. You told me to put my bloody foot down!’ He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and spat more foul-tasting bile onto the roadside.
Their angry words were stilled by the sudden, unmistakable, sound of an explosion. Turning, they looked back. Plumes of black smoke were already belching into the sky, the perfect summer day marred by the ugliness of the crash.
The pair were as sure as they could be that no one else witnessed the incident. It all happened so quickly that any passing vehicle would barely have time to register their mistake, least of all, remember their number plate. As other vehicles stopped, their occupants climbing out to stare impotently over the edge at the burning wreckage, the youths jumped back into their van and drove away.
The two made a pact never to speak of the incident again, and the only other people who knew the truth were, by then, forever silent.
