The Road Trip, Beth O'Leary [read an ebook week .txt] 📗

‘Next time,’ she says, stalking back towards the petrol station, ‘run faster.’

Everyone is grouchy. We don’t talk for a while. Marcus pays for all the biscuits he crushed, and we just sit there next to the newspapers outside the shop, eating broken bourbons in the small patch of shade.

‘At least we know where he’s going,’ Dylan points out, sipping his coffee. Thank God all of us had our phones and wallets in pockets. I think after Deb’s experience yesterday nobody will ever leave their mobile in the car again.

‘So what do we do now? Call the police?’ I ask, pulling a face.

‘That’ll take for ever,’ Deb says. ‘Waiting for them, witness statements . . . I say we just catch him ourselves. Like Dylan says, it’s not like we won’t be able to find him.’

‘But your car!’ I say.

Deb waves a hand. ‘We’ll get it back. We just need to find a way to get to the wedding.’

‘Can’t we order a cab?’ Marcus says.

‘How far away are we?’ I ask.

There is a long silence, until we all realise it was Rodney who used to do the directions. I pull up Google Maps on my phone and make a face.

‘An hour and a half of driving. And it’s a bank holiday weekend. That’s going to cost a fortune, assuming we can even get a cab here within the next . . .’ I check the time and whimper. ‘Oh, God, we’re going to miss the wedding if the cab takes longer than half an hour to get here.’

Deb calls as many local cab services as she can find. Nobody can get here sooner than an hour. We are not surprised by this. I’d say we’re basically unsurprisable by now.

We sit in silence again. Every minute counts, obviously, but somehow all I have the energy to do is eat bourbons and cradle my sore wrist. I think I’ve felt a record number of emotions in the last twenty-four hours.

‘There is one other option,’ Deb says after a while. ‘It’s a long shot, though.’

‘We’re desperate,’ I say. ‘Long shots are all we’re going to get.’

‘Did anyone save Kevin the trucker’s phone number?’ Deb says. ‘Because that man drives fast.’

Dylan

I’m not entirely convinced Kevin the trucker is a real person. I think he may be a special wedding-day sprite – no, hang on, goblin – who is sent to wedding guests in their time of need.

He was at the services within twenty-five minutes, and we are now somewhere between Carlisle and Ettrick, going at a speed that I am convinced should not be possible in a vehicle of this weight and size.

We have quickly learned that lorry cabs are not very spacious; Addie and I considered riding in the back with the chairs, but then realised once the doors shut, it would be pitch-black, and we might get impaled by a chair leg when Kevin went around a corner, and this would be an extremely bad time to die. So instead, all four of us are occupying the two passenger seats beside Kevin: Deb is sitting on Marcus’s lap, and Addie is sitting on mine.

This is exquisite torture. Every time the lorry jolts, she bounces a little on my lap; I am trying to concentrate extremely hard on the presence of Marcus and Addie’s sister beside me, but Addie is so close I can taste her perfume, I can hear the slight hitch in her breath when she feels my hardness under her, and—

‘You try having a baby,’ Deb tells Marcus. ‘And see how heavy you get.’

‘Never been much interested in babies, myself,’ Marcus says, grimacing as Deb shifts on his thighs. ‘Where did you even get yours from, anyway? You’re single, clearly.’

He’s trying to act normal, but I know him too well to buy it; his voice is reedy and he looks exhausted.

‘Contrary to popular opinion, you can acquire a baby without also acquiring a life partner,’ Deb says.

Marcus makes an oh, really? sound, an effort at interest. I stare at the fine threads of Addie’s hair in front of my nose and try not to imagine how it’ll feel between my fingers.

‘I used a sperm bank,’ Deb explains. ‘I did think about asking a friend, but . . .’ She shrugs. ‘I didn’t want it to get complicated.’

‘Love a sperm bank,’ says Marcus. ‘Great way to get a little booze money once Dad and India cut me off. I was in and out of the Chichester one like a bloody boomerang. So, how far away are we?’ he asks Kevin, while Deb absorbs that particularly terrifying piece of news. ‘Could do with getting there before my legs go completely numb.’

‘It’s this turn-off,’ Kevin says, checking his satnav. ‘We’re fifteen minutes away.’

Fifteen minutes. I can cope with another fifteen minutes.

We hit a pothole and I close my eyes, trying not to groan.

‘You’re our hero,’ Addie tells Kevin as he pulls into the large car park. ‘Thank you. Will you come and join the party?’

‘D’you think I could?’ Kevin says, breaking into one of his particularly alarming grimace-smiles.

I’m finding Kevin very useful right now; Addie has just climbed out of my lap and down to floor level, and before I move into a standing position I am going to need to spend the next few moments concentrating on Kevin’s grimace.

‘I’m sure Krish and Cherry wouldn’t mind,’ I say, immediately realising that they absolutely, definitely would.

‘I warned Cherry about the situation, by the way,’ Deb says, still perched in Marcus’s lap.

‘What!’ Addie and I say in unison.

Deb turns bemused eyes our way. ‘What?’

‘Didn’t she totally panic?’

‘It was a text. Hard to tell,’ she says, handing me her phone. ‘You know what Cherry’s like with the exclamation marks.’

Addie pulls a face as I climb down from the cab and show her the message. It starts with a string of emojis, followed by:

Call me as soon as you get here!!! And HURRY UP!!!!

‘I think she