No Worries by Bill Condon Page A

do with this.’
    â€˜Not much he hasn’t. Dad taught me to drive, not you. So you’re jealous. Why don’t you admit it? You don’t want me to get my licence, do you?’
    â€˜That’s too stupid for words.’
    â€˜Oh, sure it is. Any time I even mention Dad you get angry. You think I don’t notice? It must really piss you off that I went to him to teach me and not to you. Well, I’ve got news for you, Mum. Reverse parking isn’t my problem. You are!’
    It was as if I’d knocked her down with my words and she was winded and couldn’t speak. So when they’re down, you put the boot in, don’t you?
    â€˜You want to get a life, Mum. Stop thinking about yourself all the time. There are people out there dying and they don’t whinge like you do. Every day there’s something else wrong with you.’
    Still speechless. So I gave her one more hard kick.
    â€˜And if you’re not going to change, then I will. I’ll get a life — but it won’t be with you!’
    Mum folded her arms and rocked back and forth, her eyes dull and staring ahead. I don’t think there was anything going on in her brain at all. Total shutdown.
    I’d been angry with her for so long, keeping it to myself because I knew she couldn’t handle it. Always having to protect Mum and never getting any thanks for it. Now I didn’t care any more. I was driving home and going to bed. She could sit there rocking all day if she wanted to.
    I turned the ignition key and as I did a pained expression wracked her face.
    Then she thumped her head against the glovebox.
    â€˜Hey, stop it!’
    I pinned her shoulders to the seat.
    She bit me.
    â€˜Mum! Stop it! What’s wrong with you?’
    She let out a scream.
    â€˜Calm down, will you?’
    I wrestled with her, trying to hold her still. Outside I could see Eric leaning against his truck, soaking up every detail.
    She got her seatbelt off and pushed open the door. I couldn’t hold her.
    â€˜Where are you going? Come back. We’ll go for a drive like you said. Don’t be silly.’
    She was running. I was half in the car, half out, not knowing what to do.
    Eric was at my window.
    â€˜You all right there, pally?’
    â€˜Yeah, fine. Fine.’
    Mum crossed the road and stepped in front of a car that only just pulled up in time.
    â€˜What’s goin’ on, Dreamy?’
    I shook my head at him. ‘Nothing. I can’t talk now. I have to go.’
    Eric moved away from the car and I broke the world record for driving from the car park to the corner of the street — a whole fifty metres — then got stuck as a line of cars filed past. I could still see Mum, but for how much longer? When I tried edging onto the road, drivers sped up and cut me out. Horns blared as they whizzed past. Every second felt like torture.
    Eric drove up beside me. His truck had a long metal tray. He used the truck for carting steel in his day job.
    â€˜What’s the story?’
    â€˜I can’t get onto the road. I need to get out right now.’
    â€˜Is that all yer worried about? Easy fixed.’
    â€˜They won’t stop, Eric. I’ve tried.’
    â€˜You just keep right on my tail. Uncle Ek’ll look after yer.’
    He turned on his lights, jammed his palm down on the horn, then drove out into oncoming traffic.
    Cars pulled up. They had no choice. One driver swore at Eric.
    â€˜You can go and get stuffed, pally.’
    I followed him through as if we were glued together.
    Once we were across Eric pulled over to the gutter. He hopped down from the cabin and stood leaning against the wide open door. I parked the car in front of him and got out too.
    â€˜Yer sweet now, Dreamy?’
    â€˜Yes. Thanks for that.’
    I thought he’d bombard me with questions about Mum. But though he must have been very curious, ‘See yer at the funeral’ was all he said.
    Then