Witness

It's Saturday night and I'm dozing off when loud voices outside my window bring me back to wakefulness. A male voice is telling a casually sweary anecdote that takes the group to the bottom of the zig-zag, with occasional monosyllables from his female companions. There's a rustle of shrubbery and he swears for real. I smile. I can picture this: a group of young people, probably pre-loaded, are walking into town for a night out. The sweary guy has missed the path and stumbled into the lush clumps of agapanthus. I hope they get a taxi home and don't wake me at 4am on their way back.

When my own kids were on a break from Uni, they too walked into town. I would sleep lightly till they came back, in spite of telling myself that they went out in Dunedin and I didn't worry at all.  I needed to hear my son's voice coming up the zig-zag – he was the story-teller, but never sweary – before I could go to sleep properly.

I snuggle down and am dozing off again when rapid feet pass my window. Stragglers, catching up to the first group? But no. A hoarse voice calls out, 'He might rape you. He could be Jeffrey Dahmer.' A much younger voice, a pre-teen boy perhaps, replies defiantly but I can't catch what he says. The running feet and the argument continue down to the street, then I hear a yelp and they start coming up again, still in angry debate.

I'm out of bed, heading to the front door, wanting to go out and say, 'What's going on? Is everyone safe?' but I'm barefoot, in pyjamas and half blind without my glasses. I flick on the porch light and the arguing voices suddenly calm down. Sometimes the merest indication of a witness changes behaviour.

The older voice says, 'Give me that phone. Here, use this. Call Will. And get in the house.'

Thank goodness, Will can take it from here. I think they'll be all right. A young boy has been saved from a reckless social media meet up. The older one – teen baby-sitter? Big brother? - has done his duty. Will (Dad? Stepdad? ) can come home and save the day.

I hope that's how it works. I'll never know. I go back to sleep.