The Moment You Were Gone Read Online Free PDF Page A

And we’ll just go on our way. We don’t know anything about them. Except I’m always going to remember this – I hope I do, anyway. It’s almost like a responsibility, being the last witness.’
    ‘Do you always talk so much?’ He breathed in the softness of her hair, not wanting her to stop. Her words were like ribbons and scraps of silk that she was weavinground him, protecting him from what was happening beyond.
    ‘Maybe it’s the shock. Have they finished getting them out of the car yet?’
    ‘Yes. They’ve taken them away.’
    She gave a sigh, then stepped out of his arms. ‘Let’s have that cigarette.’
    He shook two out of the packet and handed her one, then flicked the wheel of his lighter. In its flare, he saw her face differently – splotches of freckles, a full mouth, thick brows, a faint smudge of mascara beneath eyes that seemed almost black, a mole on her neck, sharp collarbone and the swell of her breasts.
    And she saw him: sharp angles and planes, thin lips, exhausted eyes. ‘I don’t even know your name.’
    ‘Connor.’
    ‘Connor,’ she said, and took a deep drag, the smoke curling round her head. ‘What an odd way to meet.’
    ‘Here he comes.’
    A police officer was making his way towards them. As Gaby gave a statement to him, he watched her. Her name was Gabriella Graham and she was twenty years old, a student at the university. She lived at 22 Jerome Street with four other students. She lifted her arms as she talked, leant towards the officer, pointed, pushed her hair behind her ears impatiently. The car had overtaken her at speed and crashed into the tree shortly after. No one else had been involved. She knew that two of them – the two in the car – were called Gary and Dan because the third man had called for them while he lay on the bank, but she didn’t know the name of the other. She thought –she turned to Connor for confirmation – that he had probably been the driver because he’d claimed it was his fault, but she didn’t know for sure.
    ‘Would you like a lift back to the city?’ the officer asked, when she’d finished. The ambulances were gone now; two men in luminous yellow coats were arranging cones round the wreckage.
    ‘It’s OK. I’ve got my car,’ said Connor. ‘I can drive us both.’
    ‘If you’re sure you’re in a fit state.’
    ‘My bike’s here,’ said Gaby. ‘And about your car –’
    ‘You can’t ride home. We can shove it in the back somehow,’ said Connor. ‘Or just put it in the boot and leave it open. It’s only a few miles.’
    ‘It’s up to you,’ said the officer.
    ‘I parked your car in a bit of a hurry,’ said Gaby. She gave a nervous cough. ‘Um, it might be a bit tricky to reverse out.’
    ‘Where are the keys?’
    ‘I think I left them in there. I can’t remember, it’s all a blur, but I haven’t got them on me, so …’
    ‘Let’s go and see.’
    ‘The thing is, I might have put them into my coat pocket, and I laid that over the top of him, remember, and it was still on top of him when they took him away, wasn’t it? So your keys might be on the way to the hospital.’
    ‘Right,’ said Connor, watching the police car leave.
    But he found he didn’t mind. For once in his life he wasn’t thinking about consequences, schedules, the controlled execution of careful plans. He didn’t care whathappened tomorrow, for the night had the quality of a dream, dislocated from the before-and-after, with its own internal logic. Indeed, he would have been almost disappointed to find that the keys were in the ignition, had it not been that the car was tilted at a steep angle, deep in the nettle-filled ditch.
    ‘Sorry,’ said Gaby. ‘I was in a bit of a flap when I parked.’
    ‘Parked?’ He raised his eyebrows at her sardonically, feeling inexplicably cheerful all of a sudden. ‘How did you ever pass your test?’
    ‘Well, about that – when I said I could drive, I wasn’t being completely honest. I mean,