‘OK, sir, we’ll have someone with you within the hour.’
‘Within the?—’
‘Yes, we’ll have to contact our French associates, and it may take a while,’ the woman I’m talking to chirps. ‘But rest assured, we’re on the case.’
It’s 2p.m. now and the sun is almost unbearably hot. We’ve just about survived so far because we’ve been able to crack open Betty’s windows and the speed I’m driving at has created a cooling breeze. But trapped in the van for an hour? With Sarah in this state?
I turn towards her and she raises an eyebrow.
‘Sarah,’ I say, as if I’m breaking terrible news. ‘I think you’re going to have to call your mum.’
‘Surely it hasn’t come to that?’
To Vivian’s credit, she arrives within forty-five minutes, meaning she must have broken at least one of the speed limits en route. Her little sports car turns neatly into the lay-by and moments later she steps out.
I haven’t seen her for a few years, but very little about her has changed. She’s dressed immaculately, her light red hair curled neatly around her face. She’s coiffed and made-up and clinking with jewellery, and even from a couple of metres away, I can smell the heady scent of her perfume.
She gives me a nod, then walks to the front of the van where Sarah’s sitting with her door open, leg stretched out into the sun, then, looking at her daughter, puts her hands on her hips. ‘Oh, Sarah,’ she says, with the air of one who has been let down too many times. ‘What have you got yourself into now?’
Sarah thanks her mum for coming then clambers down. I take her arm and Vivian shoots me a look. ‘I’ve got this, Hal. Don’t you worry. You stay with Barry or whatever.’
‘Betty,’ both Sarah and I correct in unison.
She flaps a hand. ‘Yes, yes. Your camper.’ She says camper in the same tone that someone might say ‘dog shit’ if they’ve stepped on an enormous festering pile. Her nose crinkles andshe shakes her head almost imperceptibly. Then offers her arm to her daughter.
Sarah hesitates then reaches out for her mother. I take the crutch but keep hold of Sarah’s other arm, determined not to let go, to help her into the low seat of the Audi her mother drives.
It strikes me, as we cover the short distance between Betty and the sleek silver vehicle that makes her seem like a rusty antique in comparison, that it probably looks as if we’re kidnapping Sarah. We half-walk, half-lug her to the car, each so determined to prove that we’re worthy of looking after her that we almost forget that Sarah is probably not as comfortable as she could be, being manhandled this way.
Then she’s in the car, looking up at me as I carefully feed the crutch over the back of her seat into the practically non-existent rear of the car. ‘Thanks, Hal,’ she says.
Vivian snorts as she makes her way around to the driver’s side. Then, hand on the door-handle, she raises her eyes to mine. ‘I suppose we’ll see you in a couple of hours?’ she says, in a way that betrays exactly how she feels about that.
‘Yeah, of course. As soon as I can.’
She regards me steadily for a moment and I feel her disapproval cascade all over me. And I’m seventeen, on the doorstep with a bunch of flowers, not knowing what I need to say to get in and see my girlfriend. Desperate to win the approval I still haven’t managed to receive over twenty years later. And something in me snaps.
‘Vivian, this isn’t my fault, you know!’ I tell her.
Her nostrils flare and she lets go of the handle, indicating with her head that we should walk a little way from the car. Her manner reminds me of the guys you see in bars on TV shows.Let’s take this outside.
I hope to God the woman doesn’t want an actual fight. And that’s not because I’m gallant and can’t possibly fight a woman(although that’s also true, I hasten to add) but because I’m pretty sure if we did ever come to blows, Vivian would wipe the floor with me. She’s small and slim, but she’s wily and can reduce me to a quivering wreck with one of her glares.
Still, I meet her at the back of the car.
Her face is thunderous.
‘What were youthinking,Hal?’ she says.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Taking Sarah in that clapped out old thing, when she’s in that state.’
‘I’m not… I didn’t—’ I begin. But then I realise that I actually agree with her.
‘The poor child is completely washed out. I wouldn’t be surprised if she develops an infection in that leg. I don’t see how she can look after herself while sleeping in that thing! And all that driving, with twenty-year-old suspension! It must have been unbearable.’
My head drops. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. I just didn’t think—’ I am so relieved that I haven’t told her about Sarah’s collapse. Her hospital stay.
