Page 69 of Reinventing Cato
“What’s happened?” Cato’s voice cracked as he spoke.Please let everyone be all right.
“Mum’s been in an accident. She’s okay. Don’t worry.”
Cato clung to the wordokay.“An accident?” He was clinging to that word as well, but…
“Some idiot drove straight at her on her side of the road, she swerved and went into a ditch. The other driver didn’t stop.”
Goose bumps flashed down Cato’s body. “And she’s okay?”
“Bruised. Shaken. She was taken to hospital but they released her after checking her out.”
“Thank God for that.”
“Why didn’t you call Dad?”
“I’ve had my phone on silent. I’ve just seen the missed calls and if there was something I didn’t want to hear, I wanted you to tell me.”
“She’s okay, Cat. Call them.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
Cato’s fingers were shaking as he rang his dad.
“Cato! I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day.”
“Sorry. Devan’s just told me Mum’s been in an accident.”
“Let me pass you to her.”
A moment later, Cato heard his mother’s voice. “I’m all right, Cato. Your father is just worrying who’s going to cook his dinner.”
“No, I’m not,” he heard his father shout. “We’ll get a takeaway.”
“I’ve only just found out,” Cato said. “You want me to drive down?”
“Absolutely not. I’m fine. The Golf…not so fine. I’m just annoyed the driver didn’t stop, not even to call for help. Awful behaviour.”
“Did you see the driver or get details of the car?” He swallowed hard.
“No, it happened too fast. I was so shocked. A silver vehicle is all I know. Not much use to the police. His car wasn’t even damaged.”
“When did it happen?”
“Just after ten this morning.”
“I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thank you, darling. Have you heard anything about the job yet?”
“Not yet. Have to go, Mum. Love you.”
His fingers shook as he checked the time the text had been sent. Ten twenty.Oh Jesus.Cato lurched from the car and threw up on the verge.
When he’d finished emptying his stomach, he crawled onto the back seat and pulled his coat over his head. His heart was pounding, he was shaking and felt icy cold. He curled up and tucked his hands between his legs, only to have to wrestle the coat away from his face a moment later because he couldn’t breathe. It made no difference. Why was he dragging no air into his lungs?
Panic attack? I have plenty to fucking panic about.His mind was accelerating, rerunning random events faster and faster until he was almost hyperventilating. He knew he needed to slow his breathing, but knowing and doing were very different things. Cato rolled onto his back, his knees bent because of lack of room, trying to suck air into his lungs.Slow, slow. One, two, three, four, breathe.When he saw a face looking through the window, Cato cried out. Even after he’d registered it was Vigge, he was still freaked out.
The back door opened and Cato shuffled to a sitting position, hugging his knees to his chest.
