‘You’ve got to pull out,’ Vicky said. ‘For the kids. For me.’
Mike’s throat ached. He patted Megan on the back. She laid her head on his shoulder, the sobs had stopped.
‘The lad died, Vicky. I saw it. I told the police. That’s all there is to it.’
‘And you want us to be next?’ Spit landed on her chin.
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘That’s what’ll happen. Walk away.’
‘You’re upset.’
‘Stop telling me I’m upset. Course I’m bloody upset. Some gangster just piled into the car. The car with your wife and your son inside.’
‘It’s nothing to do with the gangs,’ Mike shouted and Megan started in his arms and began to grizzle again. ‘How would they know anything about me? My name, where I live, who you are? That’s confidential. Only the police know that. They haven’t even charged anyone yet. There may never be a trial.’
‘Someone could have seen you. When you were there, that day. Seen you giving your statement.’ Her breath was coming in little bursts, the words broken up. ‘Please, Mike!’
He couldn’t pull out. This meant so much. This was his chance to make things right. Payback. Like an exorcism, cancel out the time before. The time he’d said nothing, done nothing. Played it safe. He couldn’t change what had happened, but this time he’d been given the opportunity to stand up, to do the right thing.
‘They don’t know me,’ he insisted. ‘And if I did pull out how would they even know? What do you want me to do, string a bloody sheet up outside, Mike Sallis is a coward, Mike Sallis won’t be giving evidence?’ She had no answer to that. ‘This is all in your imagination, Vicky.’
‘What, I imagined getting rammed by a car, did I? I imagined swerving and nearly crashing?’
Megan wriggled in his arms, her cries getting louder. ‘Vicky, let’s talk later. It’s just coincidence. Bad luck.’
‘Why are you being like this?’ She spat the words at him.
He felt bile rise. Set Megan down, ignoring her howl of protest. He moved towards Vicky, his skin hot, his arms shaking. ‘I’m doing the right thing,’ he said tightly. ‘If one of our kids was hurt…’
Vicky flinched.
‘… I’d want people to come forward. Any decent man-’
‘Don’t talk to me about decent. What’s decent is protecting your own family, being a proper father and husband. There will be other witnesses. Let them do it.’
Mike shook his head. The thought of pulling out made him weak with shame. Like a dog sidling away, wriggling its back end, craven. He’d lived with that feeling all these years. Now another boy had died and he could pay penance. ‘You have to let me do this,’ he told her.