‘Reubyn,’ George hollers. ‘Can we have a word?’
He approaches, wearing a deadpan expression. ‘What’s up?’
‘We want to get out of here. Wealldo.’
Reubyn looks around at their nodding faces. ‘Okay.’ He shrugs. ‘So do I.’
‘Great,’ George says. He pushes his lower lip out, and glances at the others. ‘Let’s get packed up and get going, then.’
Miles rises. Polly follows suit, eager to move on.
‘Wait,’ Reubyn says. ‘We can’t go right now.’ He points to the window. ‘Look at it out there.’
‘Jesus, Reubyn,’ George says. ‘It’s just a bit of rain. It’ll be fine, come on, let’s skedaddle.’
‘It’s not just abitof rain, is it? It’s biblical out there – there’s probably flooding. And it’s not just the rain anyway, it’s the wind.’
‘Now you’re just making excuses.’
‘No, George, I’m trying to stop you from dying.’
George scoffs.
‘It’s not like driving a car,’ Reubyn says. ‘This is a high-sided vehicle – it could tip over in a gale.’
‘It doesn’t look gale-force to me,’ Miles says, peering out.
‘That’s because we’re in the forest. We’re sheltered by the trees. It’ll be different out on the roads.’
Everyone is silent, and Polly senses a stalemate. They need a compromise if they’re going to get out of here. ‘We could drive a little way, and see how we go,’ she says. ‘If it’s really that bad, we can just pull over and camp up?’
‘Sounds fair,’ George quickly adds.
Reubyn shakes his head. ‘We need to identify a spot to camp. You can’t just park up on the street – it needs planning.’
‘No one could blame us for parking up in a storm.’
Reubyn folds his arms. ‘The answer’s no.’
Polly opens her mouth but George comes in loudly before she can say anything.
‘Screw that,’ he says. ‘You don’t get to call the shots – this isn’t a dictatorship, last time I checked.’
‘That may be. But I’m the only one who can drive this thing, and I’m not driving it anywhere tonight, so it looks like we’re staying.’
George puffs his cheeks. ‘For heaven’s sake.’
‘It’s only one more night,’ Elis says. ‘It’s not really a big deal, is it?’
George jerks his head at him like a raptor. ‘Itisa big deal when all of us excepthim’ – George points at Reubyn – ‘want to leave.’
‘Not all of us,’ Elis says. ‘I don’t particularly care, either way.’
‘Who asked you, anyway?’
‘Sorry, George, do I need permission to speak?’
‘If you haven’t got anything sensible to say, then yes.’
