‘How are you feeling physically today?’
She shrugs. ‘Just a bit tired and sad. Why do you ask?’
‘Get your bag, a blanket and some pillows. Also, any medication you need.’
‘Why?’
‘We’re going out for the day.’
If I tell her we’re going on a road trip, she won’t come. Once I’m on the motorway, she won’t be able to complain.
While she’s getting her bag, I go to the kitchen, pull open the drawer, and find Hilary’s address from one of the letters. I take a picture on my phone.
I fill up some water bottles in her kitchen and grab some biscuits.
At a garage on the outskirts of town, I check Nigella’s tyres, water, and fill her up.
‘Where are we going, Nelly?’ Aunt Polly asks from the back seat. She’s got a pillow and a blanket for if she’s cold.
‘Somewhere nice,’ I say, and pray Hilary is home, as this is a risky trip. If things get too much for Aunt Polly, I will have to turn back. If Hilary isn’t home, I might cry.
Once we’re on the motorway, Aunt Polly falls asleep, and it’s just me, my thoughts, the satnav app on my phone, and Nigella, the car.
I have no idea how this will turn out. I just hope my aunt can handle a long drive and the same again later tonight.
My mind brings up Oliver’s face. I wonder what he’s doing back in London. I hope he’s happier there and less troubled.
Before we left, I sent Eva a text message to ask if she can feed Lenny. She has a key to the flat and was going over today to say hello to Gary, who I am sure will be elated.
I need some music. I turn on the car radio and find a decent station playing eighties hits. Aunt Polly often sleeps through my music when I take her back from chemo, so I know she won’t mind. I’m halfway through enjoying a Duran Duran song when Nigella decides she’s heard enough and switches off the radio. I try to turn it back on, and a few seconds later Nigella switches it off again. Muttering under my breath, I reach into the glove compartment and pull out an eighties CD. After shoving it in and pressing play, the sound of A-Ha fills the car and soothe my anxious mind.
She’s just spat out the CD and now I cannot get the radio or the CD player to work. ‘You are a nasty piece of work, Nigella,’ I mutter under my breath as I’m forced to drive the rest of the journey in silence.
Aunt Polly wakes up as Nigella stalls for the third time at a roundabout. I’m close to losing my rag with this car. We’re on the outskirts of Exeter, and Nigella has misbehaved non-stop for the past ten miles. The air in the car is blue.
‘Talk nicely to her, Nelly,’ my aunt advises from the back of the car. ‘Nigella is a delicate soul.’
‘She’s a car,’ I groan as I feel my seatbelt starting to tighten. This is Nigella’s payback.
Aunt Polly looks out of the window and sees a sign for Exeter. ‘Nelly… where are you taking me?’
‘It’s a surprise,’ I say, getting Nigella to start and trying to make it across the roundabout.
She gasps. ‘Please tell me you’re not?—’
I interrupt her. ‘Taking matters into my own hands. Yes, I am doing that.’
‘No,’ she says. ‘Hilary can’t see me at my worst. I want to wait until I’m in remission, and I have hair.’
‘You’re not at your worst.’
‘I don’t have any hair.’
I shake my head. ‘Love can’t wait for your hair to grow back.’
‘This is madness, Nelly.’
I look at her shocked face in the rearview mirror. ‘You’re right about that. I’m becoming a supporter of love and romance.’
