Page 1 of Five Things I Love About You

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The first thing you should know about me is that I don’t believe in fate.

The second thing you should know about me is that I’m indecisive.

So, when I woke up this morning and saw it was raining, I decided there was no way I should be cycling to work today. Not, as my mother would say, because I’d betempting fate, but because rainy days bring out all the terrible drivers, people who only get behind a wheel once in a blue moon when they don’t want to get their hair wet or ruin a new suit.

The trouble is, I couldn’t face the Tube either because it always puts me in a bad mood – and as a secondary school teacher, the end of the summer term is stressful enough as it is. By the time I was ready to leave, the rain had begun to ease a little, so I changed my mind and decided I would cycle after all.

See? I told you I was indecisive.

I’m trying to channel my earlier optimism now as I carefully edge past a car while my lungs fill nicely with exhaust fumes, but it’s easier said than done.

Finally, free of both the car and an enormous rainwater-filled pothole, I glance up. The lights are still green so I push down, trying to gather some speed and get over the junction before they change back to red. Rain is dripping from my helmet down the back of my neck and the car beside me is driving far too close to my leg for comfort. The lights begin to turn to amber. I’m not going to make it.

It takes a moment for the realisation to sink in. The following few seconds happen in slow motion.

First, a man steps off the kerb into the road.

Next, I tug on the brakes until my fingers turn white. At the same time I scream, a blood-curdling sound I didn’t even know I was capable of. The man’s head swivels round and his eyes widen, his mouth opens, and he freezes, eyes fixed on me. There’s no time to stop this collision, and there’s nothing either of us can do except wait to see how efficient my brakes and his reflexes are. I’m hurtling towards him, getting closer and closer until I can see the whites of his eyes, the dark flash of his hair and the pink of his tie. I’m not breathing, braced for impact.

Right at the last second, something tells me I can stop this, and I yank my handlebars to the right.

I barely graze his arm as I pass.

I’ve done it! I’ve saved us both!

Except I haven’t. Because my front wheel is stuck at a peculiar angle, and it’s skidding across the tarmac. I am also no longer upright.

Panic floods my body.

Then I hit the ground.

Silence.

* * *

‘Oh my God, are you okay?’

The voice is deep with a northern accent – Geordie maybe? I don’t recognise it anyway, but it sounds worried. I keep my eyes squeezed tightly shut and wait for whoever it is to say something else.

‘She’s still not opening her eyes.’ The same voice again.

‘Don’t move her.’ A different voice, a woman this time.

‘She might have broken something.’

‘Has anyone called an ambulance?’

Wait, are they talking about me?

I snap my eyes open. I’m looking up at the sky. I try to turn my head but it hurts like a motherfucker so I swivel my eyes from side to side instead. Blurry faces peer down at me.

‘What’s going on?’ I try to sit up but the pain in my head is immense, so I decide to stay where I am.

‘She’s awake!’

‘Oh thank God.’

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