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‘The Samaritan’ by Harry Riley

“Did you run him over?”

“Eh? I was driving along and saw this person lying in a heap on the grass verge.”

“Is he dead?”

“No, at least I don’t think so, look, I’m no doctor; I’ll put my coat under his head-could you ring for an ambulance?”

It had never occurred to me that someone might think I was responsible for this man’s unhappy situation, or that I could have been involved in any way. I had stopped purely on instinct. I’d seen one or two people pass him by without so much as a backward glance.

Looking more closely at the comatose body, I began to think those uncaring folk scurrying by had probably thought he was just a drunken vagrant and hadn’t wanted to get involved.

Very soon a small crowd of children and curious onlookers had gathered and then we heard the ambulance siren as it screeched to a stop. The driver-medic spoke little, as she bent to examine the old fellow. He made no response and was bundled onto a gurney and carted away.

I might not have given the incident another thought but some small tweak of conscience kept niggling at the back of my mind, so I rang the hospital to see if there was any news.

“Er…excuse me, just enquiring about the old man from Pasford; brought to casualty by ambulance today…he’d collapsed in the street.  Is he still alive or what?”

The receptionist asked me to wait and presently came back with the news that he’d been admitted to a ward. “Are you a relative?”

“No! No…I’m the person who stopped to help, that’s all: I don’t know him from Adam.”

“Well, he said if John rings, we’re to ask him to visit. Are you that John?”

I was staggered. “Yes my name is John but I hadn’t told him that. He’d been out cold the whole time, I’m sure of it.”

The girl on the line became more businesslike, obviously wanting to end the call. “His name’s Mr. John Harris and he’s had no one else asking for him, so it would be a kindness if you were to come and see him. Good day sir.” And with that she rang off.