Janine returned to her car and was just drawing away from the kerb when she saw a blue Mercedes coming, far too fast, down the centre of the road. Near the gaggle of late arrivals waiting to cross, the car braked fiercely with a squealing sound. Janine saw the child flung to one side, the small body flying limp like a puppet, then landing hard. The car shrieked to a halt a few yards ahead. Janine grabbed her phone, her heart thumping hard in her chest. A knot of people gathered round the injured girl. With a sickening feeling, Janine recognised her as a classmate of Tom’s – Ann-Marie Chinley.
Her mother was screaming, kneeling beside the unresponsive child. ‘Ann-Marie! Ann-Marie! Oh, my God, somebody help me!’
A powerful sense of shock was palpable in the atmosphere; Janine could almost taste it, acidic like metal, harsh and electric, galvanising them all.
Janine pressed 999, speaking as soon as the operator answered. Ambulance. Little girl’s been knocked down. Outside Oak Lane Primary, Didsbury.’
One of the women wore a nurse’s uniform, most likely working at one of the nearby hospitals, St Mary’s or Manchester Royal Infirmary; she began checking the girl. ‘It’s all right, love. Try and make you comfy, eh? Can you hear me Ann-Marie?’
Janine heard an engine rev, watched stunned as the Mercedes set off again at speed. She pulled out after it, sounding her horn and mounting the pavement to pass the onlookers.
Her mind had the bright clarity that comes with stress; she concentrated on the number plate, V384 ZNB, memorising it before the car turned out of her view. Using the police radio she got through immediately: ‘Attention all units, Detective Chief Inspector Lewis reporting RTA Oak Lane Primary, Didsbury. Driver failed to stop. Pedestrian injured. Blue Mercedes, registration Victor 384, Zulu, November, Bravo. Heading west on School Lane.’
She spotted the Mercedes again, turning right into Wilmslow Road. She activated the emergency sirens and flashers on her own vehicle and increased her speed. The traffic was still heavy; cars and vans and several buses chugging towards the city centre. They responded to the siren, pulling in so she could overtake. At the next junction she followed the Mercedes as it took a sharp right turn and roared away. She kept up with it along Fog Lane, fighting to keep control on the bends and where the road narrowed. The suburban street was a blur of privet hedges, red brick walls and stone gateposts that fronted the family houses. Despite her best efforts she couldn’t get a clear view of the car’s occupants; the windows were tinted glass.
