The Promise
By
Michelle Vernal
Copyright © 2018 by Michelle Vernal
Michelle Vernal asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
All Rights Reserved
No part of this work may be reproduced in any fashion without the express, written consent of the copyright holder.
Sign up for Michelle’s VIP Newsletter here https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/m4i0s6 and receive a FREE E-Book as a thank you!
For Julie
Prologue
Isabel’s heart felt as though it would jump right out of her T-shirt as she crouched down beside the mangled car—later she would realize it was down to adrenalin. Now though she leaned in through the window and managed to cradle the elderly woman’s head with her left hand leaving her right hand free to stroke the sparse, floss of hair. She was careful to avoid the gaping wound from where the blood ran free. The woman’s breath was faint and jagged, while Isabel’s came in short puffs. She felt as though she’d fallen into a nightmare.
Less than a minute ago she’d been staring out the passenger window of the two-berth Jucy van she was sharing with her friend and travelling companion Helena. Her mind absorbing and trying to imprint the beauty of the backdrop the Southern Alps provided against the rushing waters of the turquoise river they were crossing.
New Zealand had lived up to its hype, she’d been thinking, spotting the now familiar sight of a hawk soaring low in search of something to eat. It was amazing how much diverse scenery could be packaged up inside such a small country. In just four weeks, they’d seen volcanos, boiling mud geysers, rainforests, a glacier, fjords, mountains, rivers, beaches to die for but the highlight for Isabel had been the sperm whale in Kaikoura. It had risen out of the water as though to say hello as she leaned over the railing of the whale watch boat, she’d been blown away by its size and grace. That moment was one she would never forget.
Yes, she was so pleased that she hadn’t flown straight home from Australia when her work visa was up like so many of her fellow Brits. They were missing out by not coming here; she’d mused as the hawk swooped.
She’d met Helena who hailed from Freyburg in Germany through the pub where she was working in Melbourne’s hot spot of St Kilda. It had been while clearing tables and tallying up tips that the two girls had hatched the plan to spend a month traversing New Zealand before heading back to their respective countries. What a trip it had been, she’d thought rubbing her temples which were tender after last night’s efforts at Pog Mahones in Queenstown. Helena might have looked like butter wouldn’t melt with her big brown eyes and sensible short haircut but she was naughty, and they’d had a right laugh together. They’d not had a moment's snippiness either, which was quite amazing given their close living quarters.
Imagine Dragons was playing on the stereo and Isabel's fingers had been tapping out the beat to “Radioactive” on her thighs. It was hard to imagine that in just over a fortnight she’d be back home in Southampton. Mind you it would be nice to have Mum fussing over her. She couldn’t wait to have a hug and catch up on all the news properly. There was something about Skype that made her mum behave like a giggly teenager. It was the way she twiddled with her hair and her eyes kept flitting to her image in the corner. Her dad said she’d never been any different—a show-off in front of a camera who was born before her time. In the age of the selfie, she’d have been up there with the Kardashians.
Ahead the road was a black twisty snake beneath the bright blue South Island sky. There was such a sense of freedom doing a roadie she’d thought, as Helena handled the camper around the corner with the expertise of someone who’d been driving it for the best part of the last month. One day she’d like to do a trip like this down Route 66 in the States, and that was when Isabel spied the car. It was still too far away to register what had happened, but she understood instantly that it was not good.
As Helena slowed and they drew closer, she saw the little hatchback had folded itself around a telegraph pole. The crumpled bonnet was still steaming like an alien ship that had crash landed.
‘Shit!’ It had obviously just happened, and Isabel wasn’t sure if she’d sworn out loud or if it had been Helena.
Her friend braked and veered the camper over to the grass verge.
Isabel’s hand hovered over the handle in readiness for the van to stop. ‘You ring 111 and get help. I’ll see what I can do.’ She jumped down from the camper van a beat later racing over to the car hoping for the best but petrified of what she might find.
Now, here she was willing this poor old woman to be all right. She should not die like this; it would not be fair! To have lived this long and to die in the arms of a stranger on the side of an open road in the middle of nowhere was not how it should end. Isabel was no doctor, but it was obvious she was too old to survive the shock let alone her injuries. She watched as the woman’s eyes, weighted down by crepe paper lids, fluttered before drifting and locking on hers. That her irises were the same piercing blue as the sky Isabel had been admiring only moments ago, she vaguely acknowledged as she continued to whisper her soothing platitudes.
The woman was trying to summon the strength to speak, a herculean task given the twisted groaning metal from the impact wedged against her chest.
‘Shush now, you’ll
