exit of the pub car park.
‘And it’s an expensive car?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘I’ve never been driven really fast in an expensive car.’ She turned and grinned, her eyes gleaming in the umbrellas of light cast by the enormous car park lampposts.
He tried to withstand the temptation. He was a responsible adult. There were one-eyed monsters on every verge around Peterborough and he’d only just copped three points on his licence from one of the little bastards.
But he heard his voice say, ‘Would you like to?’ as the car purred up the service road and back onto the dual carriageway.
And before she could answer he thrust his foot down on the accelerator and the seat delivered a punch to his back as the car launched itself at the road ahead.
‘Whoohoo!’ She grabbed her seat.
James drove faster, surging along the dual carriageway from Paston Parkway to Perkins Parkway, weaving, overtaking taillights that were like red stars on either side until he hit a clear patch of road and he could really open up, enjoying Diane’s yelps and whoops as she rocked in her seat and he let the car do what it was made to.
Her laughter bubbled around them. ‘I hope you don’t get stopped!’
‘So do I.’ One wary eye on his mirrors in case a flashing blue light materialised out of the dusk, he braked dangerously hard to pass a camera. But this was fun . And the woman beside him seemed to be having fun, too, clinging on and squeaking with delight at every swerve.
She gasped as he let the back end drift out. ‘Wow, James!’ He liked the way his name sounded on her tongue.
Eventually, he slowed.
The car slid sedately onto a slip road, past McDonalds and the cluster of car showrooms around the cinema, around a couple of roundabouts and into the Farcet Fen lane, safely reined in to thirty as they approached Farcet village. The main road through the village, busy during the day, was quiet now. Over speed bumps, they passed the school and friendly family homes in red brick and pebbledash. Just as the village became the countryside again he rolled the car to a stop in a lay-by beside the wall and railings of a small cemetery. The light had faded into the long deep twilight of a clear summer evening. No moon or stars yet, just infinite indigo sky.
Diane unfastened her belt and turned in her seat, breathlessly. ‘That was great. Thanks for the ride.’
‘My pleasure. We all need to kick back, sometimes. I do, anyway. That was irresponsible – but overdue.’
Her look was sympathetic. ‘I suppose Valerie’s drinking must be a strain. For the whole family.’
Usually, he blanked remarks like that, but Diane’s husband had nearly lost his life as a direct result of Valerie mixing liquor with a helicopter. And he realised that he wanted to talk about it. It might be a relief to open up. Not to have to be the strong one. He sighed. ‘Harold doesn’t seem aware. The girls don’t know the extent of it. Or, at least, I don’t think so, although Natalia and Alice occasionally make remarks about boozing. Valerie drinks. It’s part of her life. She drinks . Not just sometimes, not just socially – she drinks steadily. We have furious rows about her driving anyone else, especially the girls. She insists that she rarely drinks before six and rarely drives after. She’s only rated to fly in daylight, too, so it’s quite simple so far as she’s concerned: only drink in the evening ... on good days. On good days, most evenings she drinks a bottle or two of wine. I rage about her still being over the limit in the morning but she dismisses it as “fussing”.
‘But sometimes she has bad days. On a bad day she manages a bottle of vodka, mixing it into orange juice or coffee, any time of day.
‘I freak out and she treats me as a huge joke, won’t discuss the problem because she hasn’t got a problem, she says. Apparently, I’m a spoilsport. I take a few drinks much too seriously. I should lighten up.’
‘But it
‘And it’s an expensive car?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘I’ve never been driven really fast in an expensive car.’ She turned and grinned, her eyes gleaming in the umbrellas of light cast by the enormous car park lampposts.
He tried to withstand the temptation. He was a responsible adult. There were one-eyed monsters on every verge around Peterborough and he’d only just copped three points on his licence from one of the little bastards.
But he heard his voice say, ‘Would you like to?’ as the car purred up the service road and back onto the dual carriageway.
And before she could answer he thrust his foot down on the accelerator and the seat delivered a punch to his back as the car launched itself at the road ahead.
‘Whoohoo!’ She grabbed her seat.
James drove faster, surging along the dual carriageway from Paston Parkway to Perkins Parkway, weaving, overtaking taillights that were like red stars on either side until he hit a clear patch of road and he could really open up, enjoying Diane’s yelps and whoops as she rocked in her seat and he let the car do what it was made to.
Her laughter bubbled around them. ‘I hope you don’t get stopped!’
‘So do I.’ One wary eye on his mirrors in case a flashing blue light materialised out of the dusk, he braked dangerously hard to pass a camera. But this was fun . And the woman beside him seemed to be having fun, too, clinging on and squeaking with delight at every swerve.
She gasped as he let the back end drift out. ‘Wow, James!’ He liked the way his name sounded on her tongue.
Eventually, he slowed.
The car slid sedately onto a slip road, past McDonalds and the cluster of car showrooms around the cinema, around a couple of roundabouts and into the Farcet Fen lane, safely reined in to thirty as they approached Farcet village. The main road through the village, busy during the day, was quiet now. Over speed bumps, they passed the school and friendly family homes in red brick and pebbledash. Just as the village became the countryside again he rolled the car to a stop in a lay-by beside the wall and railings of a small cemetery. The light had faded into the long deep twilight of a clear summer evening. No moon or stars yet, just infinite indigo sky.
Diane unfastened her belt and turned in her seat, breathlessly. ‘That was great. Thanks for the ride.’
‘My pleasure. We all need to kick back, sometimes. I do, anyway. That was irresponsible – but overdue.’
Her look was sympathetic. ‘I suppose Valerie’s drinking must be a strain. For the whole family.’
Usually, he blanked remarks like that, but Diane’s husband had nearly lost his life as a direct result of Valerie mixing liquor with a helicopter. And he realised that he wanted to talk about it. It might be a relief to open up. Not to have to be the strong one. He sighed. ‘Harold doesn’t seem aware. The girls don’t know the extent of it. Or, at least, I don’t think so, although Natalia and Alice occasionally make remarks about boozing. Valerie drinks. It’s part of her life. She drinks . Not just sometimes, not just socially – she drinks steadily. We have furious rows about her driving anyone else, especially the girls. She insists that she rarely drinks before six and rarely drives after. She’s only rated to fly in daylight, too, so it’s quite simple so far as she’s concerned: only drink in the evening ... on good days. On good days, most evenings she drinks a bottle or two of wine. I rage about her still being over the limit in the morning but she dismisses it as “fussing”.
‘But sometimes she has bad days. On a bad day she manages a bottle of vodka, mixing it into orange juice or coffee, any time of day.
‘I freak out and she treats me as a huge joke, won’t discuss the problem because she hasn’t got a problem, she says. Apparently, I’m a spoilsport. I take a few drinks much too seriously. I should lighten up.’
‘But it
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