A Ghost Story

The first thing I should say is that I'm not a hero. Really, not at all. No, don't interrupt. The only way we can do this is letting me set it all out in my own time. Otherwise, I'll not stay, ok.
So, not a hero. Got that?
Oh, no, hang on. I'm getting it all in the wrong order already. I need to give you some details about myself. Something they'll be able to check, or they won't believe it was me. My name is Gregory Richard Farlow, and I was born on 5th December 1968, at Hertfordshire General. I have a small birth mark on my right side, just above my hip-bone. And...oh, what else can I say? At school, my nickname was Two Tongs. Really, don't ask. Did you get all that down?
So, anyway, I'm no hero. Just an ordinary bloke. Can't say I've done anything great with my life. Normal sort of job. One failed marriage. One grown-up daughter who hasn't spoken to me for years. Bit of a loser, some might call me. Even those who call me their mate might be surprised then, about what I did.
But I couldn't really help myself. Instinct took over, I suppose. I could see her from over the road. What was she, four? Around that age anyway. Tucking her teddies into the toy stroller. But when she shook the blanket something fell out and rolled into the road.
It was like everything went into slow motion. The toy rolling, her following, the car coming round the corner.
I think I shouted out a warning, something stupid. 'Look out!' I think it was. The parents had been peering into a shop window and they turned, but there was no way they were going to reach her in time. I just legged it. No time to think about it.
Well, it seemed like that. But in a way, I'd been thinking about it for years. You see, I'd been there before. Not actually there of course. I'm not talking about some weird time-travelling voodoo stuff.
No, twenty years ago, it was me driving the car. I'd just had a promotion and I thought I was the bee's knees. I was heading out for some drinks with the lads and... I don't think I was speeding. Maybe I took my eyes off the road for just a moment. Whatever the reason I didn't see him until it was too late. He ran out after his ball, you see, and I couldn't stop. The sound he made hitting the bonnet was ... Well, it was awful. Doesn't bear thinking about. Only I did. Over and over again. The coroner ruled it an accident but that sound stayed with me. I thought about ending it many times. Even bought some pills once but I didn't actually do it. Takes courage, it turns out, topping yourself. And the missus told me she was pregnant and if I topped myself I'd just be a selfish bastard. We weren't married at the time of course. She was just my girlfriend then but we got married before our girl was born. You could say she pulled me through it. But I was never really the same. How can you breeze through life when something like that has happened? I think in the end the wife, ex-wife, felt a bit cheated. I wasn't the bloke she thought she was getting. She no longer cared for who I'd turned into. To be fair, I didn't much like myself either. Anyway, I'm rambling, aren't I, and I don't have much time.
So, when I saw that girl and the car heading towards her, I knew in that instant that this time I could make things better. So I just...did it. I ran and I pushed her back towards the pavement. Back to safety. She gave a shocked little squeal as she landed, but I don't think she was badly hurt, was she?
Can't imagine what the parents will be thinking. Probably kicking themselves for taking their eyes off her. But I know what it's like - you can't watch them the whole time or you'd go crazy. You'll let them know, won't you? You'll tell them I said not to feel bad. It was a fair exchange after all - my life for hers. Mine nearly ended years ago, so I've had a pretty good innings since then. And the lad - the driver - tell him...oh, I don't know...tell him I said he'll be alright. He can get over this. At least it wasn't the child.