The Driver

W/C 629  (Oxford spelling)

The Driver

Heart pounding, head spinning, God! he thought, he needed to keep himself together.  Glancing through the windscreen of the car to the street oblivious to what was happening as people milled about doing the things normal law abiding citizens do every day on busy high streets all over the world.  Buying papers, sandwiches for lunch, rushing back to the office trying to sort out the best excuse for being late preferably one they hadn’t used before.

He sat there watching it all happen with the engine running and his heart threatening to rip itself free from his chest and make a break for it down the street.  It was fine he thought, Joe had planned everything, nothing could go wrong, it would just be a case of in, out, job done.  All he then had to do was put his foot down and get everyone out of there.  No problem. He was, after all, a rally driver, diving like an escaped convict was what he did best.  Why did he have to pick that analogy, a convict?  He did not in any way shape or form wish to end up one of those.  In fact he didn’t want to be a bank robber, yet, here he was sitting outside, of all things, his local branch, waiting to drive his accomplices as far away as possible from the scene of the crime.  What on earth had he got himself into?  His heart was now heading into coronary territory.  It had seemed so simple when they were planning it, wait outside, engine running, when everyone piles in hit the accelerator and drive, he’d seen it all before in the cinema and on TV.  No, it would be fine.  Fine fine fine, he figured if he said it enough times then it would be.  Of course he did not believe this for a second, not even a nano-second.

How would he explain the sudden windfall to Jill?  He’d have to say it was a  lottery win.  That was it, he’d bought a ticket a few weeks ago and finally got round to checking the numbers and it was a winner.  Now they could have that carefree life soaking up the rays in the Med.  She’d believe him, no reason for her not to,  it’s not like he’d every done this before.  The blood started to make rushing noises in his head, he wanted out, God get me out of this.  This was stupid, he was stupid and he was pretty sure the big man upstairs would not be on hand to get him out of this one but there was no harm in pleading.

What if somebody manages to hit the alarm?  What if the bank gets surrounded by the police?  Does he just get out of there and leave the others?  What if someone gets hurt or …oh God forbid…killed!  He didn’t sign up for that, a life in the Med with a big black cloud of guilt in the middle of his clear blue sky.  No, it’ll be fine.  Yep fine, that’s what it will be.  Joe knows what he’s doing, he planned it, every detail, every possibility.

Stay alert he told himself, any minute now they’d  be back with big bags of money, lovely money.  Funny really, all this to get hold of money, so he didn’t have to think about money again. Stay alert his head kept on reminding him.  He braced himself taking a grip of the steering wheel, his hands moist and clammy, he wiped them over and over on his trousers.  Stay alert Danny, come on focus! 

Suddenly, pandemonium.  “GO! GO!” shouted Joe as the car doors opened then slammed.  "GO!"  There was blood.  Oh my God!  He thought Blood, God No!  This, is not fine!