First love

The mother had been told: she always watching, never let from eye. She was told, first: I so sorry, I so sorry. Then, thank god; thank god, thank god, thank god for his saving; a million times. The mother had been told of one minute sitting on bench Haverstock Hill by traffic light, Dougie eat Penguin, and Selma play scooter. The mother had been told she with me every second. The mother had been told: oh how I watch close because Selma want up hill and I say no you wait to Dougie. The mother had been told: she know this happen every day but Selma wait always good never go away. The mother had been told Selma know and just go near bench always holding bench and she pull back if she go too much far. She had been told she always watch so hard. The mother was told how she love them like child in Philippine. The mother had been told it was miracle it was miracle, miracle pure god miracle. 

The mother had been told she heard first screech of tyre so sudden how when she look up she not even see bike. The mother had been told she not think even of Selma then being there or not there at time but then she realise when she look she not see and she terrify but then she see on street and oh my god and feel disaster and crying and she run but she see Selma just stand up look like only naughty and she go rush and hug and shake her yes she shake but she hug and still cry in big tears but she ok she not hurt amazing. The mother had been told she take her away from road quick like road is bad not safe. The mother had been told she say everything ok, we go see Mummy but she shaking and child just little quiet and shock. The mother had been told she carry back down hill and Dougie walk be good boy and quiet because he know. The mother had been told just relief to be in house. The mother had been told thank grace of god this was. 

The mother said yes, she would pray to god for thanks.

The mother had not been told of the middle-aged man lying in the road subsequent to the impact with the speeding motorcycle. The mother had not been told how the middle-aged man had run across and caught the child just at the moment where the child would have surely been run down, how he had launched and lifted her six-year old daughter off the surface of the road and into the pavement in one impossibly quick and heroic movement. The mother had not been told how the motorcyclist had then berated the middle-aged man in some sort of instinct of anger and vexation. The mother had not been told of the knock to the head of the middle-aged man from the impact of the helmet of the decelerating and speeding motorcyclist, which impact had simply upended him. 

The mother would not be told that the middle-aged man died that night of an oedema, though he had been conscious immediately after the impact. 

She did not need to be told, because they were only distantly related.