‘I think she does,’ Mum replies, smiling.
‘Who’s going to take me for a test drive?’ I ask Michael hopefully.
‘Whoa,’ he says, leaning in and swiftly extracting the keys. ‘Not until you pass your theory test.’
‘Oh,’ I moan. ‘What time do they open?’
Mum drives me into the city to take my test. It’s easy. It’s multiple choice, so even if I hadn’t revised my bum off I would have stood a good chance of passing. Mum makes a snide comment about why I can’t apply myself to my education in the same fashion, and I make one back about it being hard when your mother has dragged you from school to school all your life in pursuit of men. That shuts her up. But I don’t want to have a go at my mum today. I have a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe, just maybe, it’s going to be okay living in Australia.
Chapter 5
‘Fuck me, you’ve stalledagain!’
‘Piss off!’
‘Hurry up, would you. This is embarrassing.’
‘You aresucha dickhead!’
Josh is teaching me how to drive. I know, I’m clearly not right in the head. Michael has been letting me get behind the wheel on the way to work over the last week and a half, but it’s Saturday now and he’s taken Mum on a weekend break to a town called Clare in the Barossa Valley to tour the wineries. I stupidly begged Josh to pick up where his dad had left off.
I wind down the window, but the hot air outside makes me feel like I’m in the direct airflow of a giant hairdryer so I put it back up again. Thankfully the car has air-conditioning, even if it’s not very powerful. I flip down the sun visor and instantly flinch as I remember Michael’s story about giant spiders hiding behind them. All clear.
Someone toots their horn behind me.
‘Yep, I know how you feel, mate!’ Josh calls out.
‘Stop winding me up!’ I snap, feeling the bite of the accelerator against the clutch. The car lurches forward and we fly through the traffic-lights.
‘Whoa! Who do you think you are?’ Josh says snidely. ‘Michael Schumacher?’
I’m so angry by the time we get home that I refuse to speak to him for the rest of the day. He finally comes to make amends.
‘Do you want to come to Stirling tonight?’ he asks, after finding me sulking in front of the telly at seven o’clock.
‘Not with you,’ is my blunt response.
‘Oh, don’t be mad.’
I glare at the television screen in silence.
‘It’s Saturday night . . .’ he carries on.
‘Who’s going?’ I ask, thinking that if the answer involves Lou, I’ll stay right where I am.
‘Just Alex, Shane and a few of the guys from work.’
‘No girls?’ I check, because I’m not risking it.
‘Nup. Not unless I get lucky later. I’m joking!’ he exclaims when he sees my face. ‘Come on,’ he adds. ‘You need a drink after all those near-crashes earlier.’
‘Go to hell!’
‘Hey, get a sense of humour. I’ll even let you get me back by picking onmydriving.’
‘I’ll pick on it on the way there. But we’re catching a taxi home, geddit?’
‘Whatever.’
