My Year of Saying No - Maxine Morrey Page 0,19

and laid my hands back on the wheel, turning the key as I did so. Nothing. No! Not now!

7

‘Come on, little car, please! I’m freezing! Please start. Please, please, please. I’ve taken you to the garage and they’ve said you’re fine, so please just let me get home and warm up!’

I tried again. Nothing.

One more time. This time, the engine started quietly and ran smoothly. No drama, no fuss. This was the pattern and had been for months. Of course, every time I took it to the garage, the problem never showed itself and I ended paying to take my car back, knowing something was lurking. I’d now given up on trying to get it fixed and had begun looking around at replacing the car instead. It had served me well, but I’d had a lot of years out of it and moments like tonight were not great for my peace of mind. I needed a car I could just get in and not worry about. Add it to the to-do list.

The rest of the journey home was, thankfully, drama free and I scooped up Humph as I came through the door and snuggled him against me, absorbing his joy at my return, as well some of his warmth. Changing into my jammies and big cuddly dressing gown, I then headed back into the kitchen to make a hot drink to try and warm up from the inside.

I snuggled into my favourite spot on the sofa, and Humphrey clambered up and over me, before flopping down on my lap. The TV was on low and I flicked aimlessly for a moment before glancing over at my phone. I felt bad that I’d forgotten to call Seb earlier and unintentionally worried him. When we’d talked in the past, he admitted that he knew he could be overprotective about people. He’d always been that way to an extent, but his deployment had sent ripples throughout his life, and although he’d dealt with a lot, and dealt with it brilliantly, it was naive to think that such an experience wouldn’t change a person. I snagged the phone and rested my hand on Humphrey’s sleeping back. Opening up the chat thread, I typed a message.

Hi. Sorry I worried you earlier. Hope you had a good evening

The message showed delivered but remained unread by the time I went to bed shortly after. It was pretty late, so I wasn’t surprised, but something inside me felt a little strange that we hadn’t said goodnight. It was a habit we’d fallen into quite a while ago now and it had stuck. I’d expected that to be the first thing to go when Seb had dates, but it didn’t. He always said hi, checked I was doing OK and always said goodnight. Until tonight.

I shook it out of my mind. He probably assumed that our brief call earlier served the same purpose, which it may well have done.

The following morning was Saturday and I had plans to meet my parents for a food fayre in one of their local villages. Humphrey was even allowed to come, although I wasn’t sure how fair it was to subject his nose to all those delicious smells and then him not be allowed anything. I dipped my hand back into the treat jar on the kitchen counter and added a couple more to my pocket, before grabbing his travel rug, a portion of dog food, and a couple of toys, as well as his lead and my handbag.

‘You ready to see Nanny and Popsy?’ I asked.

By his circular dance of delight, I guessed the answer was yes.

‘Come on, then. Assuming the car starts, of course,’ I muttered to myself.

Humphrey’s ears twitched, catching my tone and his fuzzy head tilted at me in question.

‘It’ll be fine. Come on.’ And we headed out, round the building towards the car park.

‘Hello, darling!’ Mum threw her arms wide and hugged me like she hadn’t seen me in months. I’d popped round in the week, but I still loved that she did this every time. My older sister travelled a lot in her capacity as first-class cabin crew for British Airways and I knew she got the same greeting whether she’d been away for weeks to some far-flung destination or had been round the previous day.

Humphrey rubbed his body against Mum’s legs and Dad, approaching from the kitchen, laughed, scooping him up in one large hand and plopping him against his broad chest.

‘Feeling a bit left out,