chatting on the phone, and nothing about his behaviour made an ounce of sense. Now, he’s back in my space. By choice.
‘I want you to hear me out,’ he says.
‘I’m listening.’
‘Good. Because you should.’
Who does he think he is, speaking to me this way? Hardly a word from him all day as I sat just inches away from him in his squeaky posh car, oh, except to tell me how much I needed to eat a paper bag full of greasy, fatty fries.
Today, all I needed was a friend. Okay, so it’s not ideal that it’s the guy I catapulted into, especially since I can’t help feeling pretty awful about it. But Jim has been my companion for the majority of today. Being in such close proximity to another human for – what? – four hours, it’s only polite to engage in conversation. To be kind. To be nice. Unless you’re a total psychopath. Or sociopath. Jim shows signs of both. Every now and then, I get this pocket-sized blast of him being this nice guy, a kind of down-to-earth philosopher, and then he’ll turn, like the aftermath of a bad storm, screaming eerie silence. And now. Oh, now. Now, Jim wants to talk.
‘I’m gonna to make this very simple for you, girl. There’s no negotiation. I want you to pay for damages caused to me car. It’s only fair. You crashed into me. And I want you to pay for me car to be released from the pound—’
‘How much is that going to cost?’
‘Two hundred.’
‘Two hundred pounds?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why can’t you pay that? I don’t care if you get your car back or not.’
‘It’s your fault the police took it away.’
‘How?’
‘Because it was parked illegally.’
‘I didn’t park it.’
‘No. But I only parked there so you could get on a bloody train.’
‘Surely someone like you can afford two—’
‘I asked you to listen, Zara. Will you let me finish?’
I fold my arms but almost lose my balance on the suitcase, so I steady myself with my hands. I can tell I’ve annoyed Jim by cutting in on him, but he’s being so unbelievable with his demands.
‘Go on,’ I say.
‘So, you’ll pay for the damages. And to get me car back. And … five hundred quid.’
‘WHAT?’
‘You heard.’
‘Are you mad?’
‘Not at all. I’m gonna take you to London. Now. Soon.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’ve got another car. We’ll go and get it, then I’ll get you to the airport.’
‘But what about the car in the pound?’
‘That’ll take too long, we can’t risk the time, especially with Friday traffic.’
‘So, why five hundred pounds on top?’
‘If – and I use the word if hypothetically here ’cause we both know there isn’t a taxi in Liverpool who’ll take you all the way to London – but, if you were to get a taxi, it’d cost you more than two hundred quid. Easy. Then, you’d have to pay for the driver to get back. So, five hundred. You pay me. I get you there. Deal?’
The rain begins to calm, to spit.
Math was never my strong point, but I try to work out the figures in my head. If I stay overnight in Liverpool tonight, even in that cheap hostel again, with food and a few much-needed drinks, that will be about a hundred pounds. Then, I’ll have to get to London tomorrow, somehow, and book another flight at full price. The costs are soaring as each raindrop falls from the sky. No matter what way I look at it, Jim’s right. He’s making me an offer I can’t refuse. Unless I decide to just bum around in Liverpool for the next chapter of my life, something I believe that the universe is advising me not to do.
‘Time’s ticking, love.’
How dare Jim be right.
And as for the damages: well, yes. I am liable. A niggling worry has been eating away at me that if I didn’t somehow rectify this, then karma would come back to haunt me. My savings were to spend on my new life with Nick. Now that’s gone, they’re simply for a rainy day. And God, that just so happens to be today, doesn’t it?
‘You’ll get me to the airport?’ I ask. ‘All the way? And on time?’
‘I will.’
‘And then this is over?’
‘Yeah.’
I hold out my hand. All thoughts of building a little nest will have to disappear, for now, until the universe sends me the next positive sign.
‘Deal,’ I say.
‘Deal,’ Jim agrees.
He keeps my hand within his grip and waves his free arm at a black cab, which