‘You need to get onto the roads, Brendan, we’ve been round and round this car park for months and there’s nothing more we can do, you need to get onto the roads!’
I eventually gave in and ended up being the cause of a long tailback because of how slow I was.
‘Shift into third, Brendan, and get the speed up a bit, look at the traffic behind us.’
‘It was you who wanted me out on the roads, Dad, this is what you get; I don’t want to go faster, I don’t feel confident enough.’
Then the cars started beeping when I stalled at a junction.
‘Come on, get her started up again there. Come on, quick.’
‘Swap.’
‘What?’
‘Swap. You drive. I’m done.’
When I got out I saw the angry faces of the people in the cars behind. Dad was making apologetic expressions as if to say,What can you do?
‘Right, we’ll head back to the car park and get the full two hours done,’ he said when we got back inside.
‘Can we not head home?’
‘No.’
We spent a further half hour doing parking manoeuvres at St Matthew’s before Dad finally called an end to it.
‘What’s wrong? Is your head not in the game because of this formal coming up with this lady friend of yours?’
‘She’s not my lady friend.’
‘What is she, then?’
‘I don’t know but she’s not that.’
‘Oh right.’
‘Yeah, oh right.’
‘Well, whatever she is, I hope you’re in a better mood for her tomorrow than you are tonight.’
‘I’ll be in a better mood when I can get this car cleaned and presentable for tomorrow night.’
‘And will you be turning this car into a magic self-driving one as well? Or who’s your driver going to be?’
My dependence on him driving us to the formal was something I couldn’t battle against so I remained silent.
‘Didn’t think so,’ he said.
I was boiling when I got home. No one could infuriate me quite like my dad. I punched and punched my mattress; it didn’t do much good.
The other reason I couldn’t sleep was actually a jumble of reasons rolled into one big ball that made me realise I was caring much more about the formal than I wanted to. There were too many things I had to do: I’d have to work double speed at Feeney’s on Saturday morning, I’d have to eat on the go, I’d have to clean Dad’s car as fast as possible and try to get ready in whatever time I had left before picking Jennifer up at her house; I’d probably have to meet her parents!
I tried to wash away the worry on Saturday morning in Feeney’s yard alongside washing the BMW; it wasn’t working very well, but at least I managed to get the car finished along with the hearse just before midday.
I rang the doorbell and Mr Feeney answered.
‘I know I keep tellin’ you this, Brendan,’ he said, ‘but just come on in, you don’t need to be ringin’ the doorbell every time.’
