tears that keep threatening to cascade down my face. Has her skin got a yellowish tinge or is it just reflected glow from the street light opposite?
‘I’ll ring you tomorrow, obviously,’ I tell her, ‘but please ask me if you need someone to come to any of the appointments with you.’
She shakes her head dismissively. ‘Michael will be back by Wednesday; it’ll be absolutely fine.’ Michael’s her husband, a director of photography who shoots all over the world. Considering how hard they both work, with their sons safely tucked away at boarding school, I often wonder how unnatural it feels when holiday time dictates them living together as a normal family.
I get back in the van and shakily turn the key. Zelda’s watching from the doorway and I’m determined not to let on how rattled I am. First off I stall, and then, grinding the gears like a tractor, I lurch off into the night. As soon as I’m out of view I feel the tears start to come. Of course I should pull over, but I just want to get home and pour it all out to Alice. Besides, I hate South London. I’m sure I’ll feel less desolate when I’m the right side of the river.
I zoom down Kennington Road, going a little faster than a novice van driver should attempt. When I see a flashing blue light I convince myself I’m being neurotic; I’m only going a smidge over thirty and I’ve never been stopped before. But once it’s zoomed up behind me, siren blaring, I have to admit to myself that it’s my unlucky day. I wish I knew how to pull over elegantly. Instead I veer towards the kerb, crashing into it and stalling. A shadowy figure appears at the window.
‘Evening, madam, very kind of you to stop for me. I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle.’
Ooh, bit of a joker. I bite down a sarcastic response then do a double take when I get a proper look at him. He’s youngish and sexy-ish, with a Scottish brogue that only adds to his appeal. He stands back and waits for me as I fumble with the central locking, radiating a self-assurance that comes from a sure knowledge that he’s in charge. Maybe it’s not just that: he’s compact and muscular in a way that must give him a jungle confidence. There’s a hint of a smile underpinning the testosterone, a glimmer of amusement in his blue eyes which gives me a shred of hope. If only this were a particularly successful erotic dream rather than a blatantly unsuccessful piece of law-breaking.
I clamber down from the cab, trying my best to wipe away the thick, black mascara that’s streaked down my face. He must think he’s stopped a Goth with a sideline in house clearances. Why did I let myself keep chugging my way through that mammoth glass? I never would have if it hadn’t been for Zelda’s cataclysmic news. If I lose my licence I might as well head straight for the job centre. My role relies on me being able to drive myself to set for six thirty a.m. in whichever godforsaken bit of the country we happen to be shooting in. It would be a disaster any time, but right now it’d be beyond catastrophic.
‘You were observed driving down Kennington Road at 23.12 at thirty-four miles per hour with a broken tail light,’ he informs me officiously.
‘So only a tiny bit more than ten per cent over. You must admit, in mathematical terms that’s not bad.’ What am I saying?!
‘The bad news is that traffic regulations don’t quite work that way. Were you aware the tail light was non-operational?’
‘No, we – I mean, I hired the van to move house. It’s not my actual van. I always keep my Peugeot well serviced.’ I blush, mortified by my own verbosity and also by my use of the phrase ‘well serviced’. He really is very handsome.
‘Very impressive,’ he says wryly. ‘But the van is your responsibility as the designated driver.’
Oh God, the designated driver. I’m suddenly hit by the horrifying realization that it’s Alice’s licence I’m playing fast and loose with.
‘I’m really sorry,’ I tell him pathetically.
‘The van’s a rental, is it? That explains your driving.’
‘Are you talking about the kerb? It just came at me…’
‘You were weaving across the road with no respect for the lane markings.’ I did have to lean right across to the opposite seat pocket to