**Diary Entry – June 10th**
You won’t do anything to me. It’s not my fault,” muttered Nathan, stepping back, trembling with fear.
The warm days of early June had settled in, and after months of being cooped up, people were escaping the stifling city for the countryside, the coast, or their weekend cottages. Simon, his wife Laura, and their daughter Emily had packed up the car at dawn for a short trip to the little village where Simon had grown up, where his mother still lived.
“Alright, everyone ready? Got everything? Let’s go before the sun gets too hot,” Simon called, sliding into the driver’s seat. Emily climbed in beside him, while Charlotte settled in the back, away from the air conditioning.
At a family meeting a few nights ago, they’d decided Emily would spend the last weeks of summer at her grandmother’s. She hadn’t wanted to leave the city, but her friends were scattering—some to holidays abroad, others to relatives—and staying behind would’ve been dull.
“Why the long face? Trust me, you’ll love it there. You’ll have friends around. You might not even want to leave,” Simon encouraged.
“Yeah, yeah, Dad, it’s fine,” Emily muttered, buckling her seatbelt.
“That’s more like it,” Simon grinned, relieved. “Last proper break before your final year—exams, university, and then… adulthood.”
The city was just waking up, shaking off the quiet of sleep. The roads were still empty, so they made quick progress out of town.
The sun crept higher, its rays slicing through the trees lining the motorway, sharp as needles. “Everything’s fine… so why does my gut say otherwise?” Simon thought, watching the grey road unspool beneath the wheels.
Four hours later, they rolled into the village, lush and full of blooming gardens. Granny flung the door open, clapping her hands—they were finally here!—and pulled each of them into a hug.
“Look at you, Emily! Proper young lady now. Simon, I made your favourite scones. Come on in, don’t stand there in the hallway!” she fussed.
“Still the same,” Simon sighed, glancing around the room, breathing in the familiar childhood scent. “Nothing’s changed. Even your knick-knacks are in the same spots. Mum, you’re exactly as I remember.” He hugged her tight.
“Oh, stop your nonsense,” she swatted playfully. “You must be starving after the drive. Wash up, breakfast’s ready.”
“Keep an eye on this one, Mum. Don’t let her run wild—no midnight gallivanting,” Simon warned between mouthfuls of scone, groaning in satisfaction.
“Oh, please, like you were any better at her age!” Granny laughed, sliding him a glass of homemade lemonade.
“Exactly. Go on, Gran, tell us how terrible he was,” Emily teased.
Granny shuffled about, laying out more food, then glanced out the window.
“Anyone fancy a cuppa? Oh—Emily, your friends are already in the garden. Saw the car pull up,” she added with a sly look.
“Who?” Emily bolted to the window.
“Eat first,” Simon ordered. “They’ll wait.”
“I’m full. The scones were amazing, Gran.” Emily shifted impatiently from foot to foot.
“Go on then, you scamp,” Granny chuckled. “Be back by lunch.”
Emily vanished into the garden.
“Keep her in line, Mum. She acts grown, but she’s still a kid,” Simon said as the door clicked shut.
“It’s peaceful here. She’ll be fine.”
The next evening, Simon and Laura were packing the car for the drive back. By the bumper, he gave Emily one last lecture.
“Help Gran. And keep your phone on, yeah?”
“Dad, I get it,” Emily sighed.
Simon opened his mouth—but Laura squeezed his arm. “She’ll be fine.”
He nodded, gave Emily a quick hug, then they drove off.
Three weeks passed. Emily called daily, updating them on village life, and Simon relaxed.
Then, early one Saturday, the phone rang.
“Work?” Laura mumbled, still half-asleep.
Simon grabbed his mobile. His mother’s name flashed on the screen. His stomach lurched.
“Mum? Why so early?” His pulse kicked up.
“Simon, love… I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t keep her safe,” she sobbed.
“What happened to Emily?” Simon was on his feet, yanking on jeans.
“It’s bad. Come quickly. She’s in hospital. In a coma—” Her voice broke.
“We’re on our way,” Simon told Laura, already throwing on a shirt.
Laura paled. “What’s wrong with Emily?”
“Mum’s hysterical. We’ll find out when we get there.”
He hadn’t refuelled last night—now the petrol station was crammed with weekenders.
“We’ll lose ages here,” Laura fretted.
Simon grabbed the jerry can from the boot. Five minutes later, they were back on the road.
“She didn’t want to go… We made her… If she’d stayed—” Laura’s breath hitched.
“Stop,” Simon snapped. “We don’t know how bad it is.” (He didn’t believe himself.)
Near the village, he called his mother. She was at the hospital.
In the corridor, she collapsed against him, weeping.
“She won’t talk,” Simon told Laura. “Stay with her. I’ll find the doctor.”
The doctor was in the staff room, coffee in hand.
“Ah, the father. Good timing. Your daughter’s friend has fractures—leg, ribs. But her head injury… we operated, removed the haematoma. She hasn’t woken post-op. Young bodies are resilient, but… Coffee?”
“Will she… recover?” Simon’s throat tightened.
“We’ve done all we can. There’s hope, but…” The doctor shrugged.
“Where’s the boy? The one on the bike with her?”
“Trauma ward. First floor. Liam Colburn.”
Simon found him—young, leg in plaster.
“You Liam?”
“Yeah. You’re—”
“Emily’s dad. What happened?”
Liam swallowed. “We were on the bike. Rain left puddles… Something hit the front wheel—stone, maybe. Lost control, skidded off.”
“No helmets?” Simon knew the answer.
“Just a quick ride,” Liam mumbled.
“Then?”
“I realised my leg was broken. My side hurt. Emily was… out cold.”
“You called an ambulance.”
“Phone smashed. Emily didn’t have hers.”
“So you lay there all night?” Simon’s hands clenched.
“No cars came. I couldn’t move. I swear, it wasn’t my fault!”
Simon saw the evasion. “Bikers rarely ride solo. Who else was there?”
Liam flinched.
“Tell me. If you’re innocent, why hide it?”
“Promise you won’t tell?” Liam whispered.
“Depends.”
“It’s not my fault. Nathan liked Emily. Told me to stay away. That night, he wasn’t around, so we rode out. Danny’s bike was busted, and Jake stayed home.”
Old ladies yelled when they raced through town, so they’d taken back roads. Stopped to talk. Then—Nathan’s custom Harley roared up. Spoiled rich kid, absent dad bankrolling him.
“Emily panicked—didn’t like Nathan. We tried to get away. He caught up, overtook us. Then… the stone.”
“He rammed you, didn’t he?”
“No! I hit the stone. I’m telling the truth.”
Simon leaned in. “Why no ambulance? Nathan could’ve called.”
Liam paled.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not! I—”
“Where’s Nathan live?”
Liam gave the address, begging, “Don’t say I told you. His dad’s connected. He’ll come after me.”
Tall, leathers, arrogant—Simon noted it all.
He drove past a mansion, parked nearby. Waited.
Finally, a boy in leathers sauntered out.
“Hey, mate—where’s Sycamore Lane?” Simon called.
Nathan directed him.
“Hop in, show me?”
Nathan hesitated, then climbed in.
Simon drove, then swerved onto a deserted road.
“Where—?” Nathan tensed.
“No bike today?” Simon asked casually.
“Mum’s rules.”
“Or maybe it’s got dents from Liam’s bike?”
Nathan froze. “Who are you?”
Simon stopped the car. “Out.”
“Why?”
“Talk.”
Nathan scrambled back as Simon stepped out.
“You won’t do anything. I’m innocent,” Nathan babbled, trembling.
Simon bent, heSimon picked up a rock, weighing it in his hand, then dropped it—just as his phone rang and Laura’s voice cracked through: “Simon, she’s awake!” and he turned away from the sobbing boy, whispering, “Thank God,” as he drove back to the hospital where Emily, weak but smiling, squeezed his hand and whispered, “Dad,” and for the first time in weeks, he could breathe again.
