Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [125]
Miranda, her arms full of the soft, hand-knitted baby
things Chloe had dumped on her, felt the blood slow to a halt in her veins.
`Isn't what terrible? He won the race.'
In the milliseconds before Chloe's reply, Miranda's mind conjured up a satisfactory explanation. There had been a steward's enquiry - or whatever it was they called them in motor-racing circles - and Miles had been stripped of his title, found guilty of dangerous driving… or not doing enough laps… or failing a drugs test, something like that
'Oh, haven't you heard? Put the TV on,' said Chloe, `they're bound to be talking about it. After he left Silverstone this evening he was driving back to London and a lorry smashed into his car on the Ml.' She looked at Miranda, her forehead creasing with concern. `I forgot, you met him once, didn't you? Bev was teasing you about him the day you painted my room.'
Everything was happening in slow motion. Feeling as if she was having an out-of-body experience, Miranda watched herself bend down and place the bundle of baby clothes carefully on the floor. Okay, Miles had failed to arrive because he'd been involved in an accident, that was fair enough, that was an excellent excuse for not turning up. And the reason he hadn't phoned to let her know he was going to be late was because he was having a couple of X-rays just to be on the safe side. Miranda nodded to herself, reassured by this. Everyone knew you couldn't use mobile phones in X-ray departments because they sent medical machinery haywire.
Otherwise of course he'd phone me, to let me know he's okay.
`He is okay.' She looked up at Chloe, seeking confirmation. `I mean, maybe a few cuts and bruises, but that's all. He's a brilliant driver, you know, he wouldn't have just let a lorry smash into him.'
`I'm sorry.' Chloe hesitated, shaken by the depth of Miranda's reaction. She was as white as a sheet and trembling visibly. `On the news it said the lorry crashed through the central reservation - there was nothing anyone could have done to avoid it.'
`But Miles is all right. He is all right.' Miranda felt like a parrot but she couldn't stop saying it. She wished her teeth would stop chattering and she wished Chloe would stop looking at her in that awful, panicky way. `Okay, he's in hospital, I realise that, but he's definitely going to be all right.'
The boiling kettle forgotten, Chloe came towards her. She led Miranda into the sitting room and made her sit down. `Miranda, I'm really sorry. He's dead.'
`Oh no, that's a mistake. He can't be dead.' Firmly, Miranda shook her head.
Clearly, thought Chloe, something was going on here that she didn't know about. She put her arms around Miranda. `Darling, I'm afraid he is dead. He was killed outright.'
Chapter 50
The next twelve hours were a blur. When she had finished telling Chloe the whole story, Miranda huddled on Florence's sofa and watched every news bulletin on every channel. The nation was gripped by the tragedy - and timing - of Miles Harper's shocking death. TV journalists broadcast live from the bridge over the Ml above the scene of the accident. By midday on Monday, the motorway embankment had disappeared beneath a sea of flowers. Photographs of Miles flapped in the warm breeze. People who had driven for miles to lay cellophane-wrapped bouquets shed tears and hugged each other and told reporters with microphones that it was so sad, so unfair, such a terrible, terrible waste.
The driver of the lorry, it was rapidly established, had suffered a heart attack and died seconds before the crash. No one, not even a driver of Miles Harper's calibre, could have escaped the impact of a twenty-ton artic veering abruptly across three lanes and on to the southbound carriageway. Miles had been killed instantly and his car crushed beyond recognition.
It was like reliving her parents' death all over again. Except that all their accident had merited was a couple of paragraphs in the local paper.