Page 4 of Road Trip to the Riviera
There’s another long silence. I rack my brain to think of something to say. ‘So I’m off tomorrow.’
This gets her attention. ‘Tomorrow? The wedding’s not for almost a fortnight!’
‘Yeah, you know me. Going to take Betty for a French adventure.’
There’s a deep, tired sigh. ‘I wish—’ she begins, then stops herself. I don’t prompt her. I sense the ending of the sentence wasn’t going to be favourable to me. She wishes I didn’t call Betty by a human name (which, if you met Betty, you’d realise is impossible) or she wishes I wouldn’t make a two-day drive into a twelve-day one. Something along those lines. Probably.
‘Are you—’ I almost ask her again if she’s OK. But manage to stop myself.
Then, ‘Hal, I have to ask you something,’ she says in her clipped, efficient work voice.
‘Yeah?’ There’s a sudden prickly feeling in my lower arms and hands. The handset feels a little sweaty.
There’s a pause. ‘Look, the doctor says I can’t fly,’ she begins and I feel something begin to sink inside of me. She’s going to… ‘I wanted to know whether I can get a lift.’
‘Really? With me?’
‘Well, yes. Obviously.’
‘Wouldn’t you rather…’tear your hair out? sit in a bath of beans?‘…go with Colin?’
‘Hal, Colin and I broke up eight months ago,’ she says wearily.
Did I know this? Probably. ‘Sorry.’ I’m on the back foot now. ‘Yeah, of course you can come with.’ I mean, what else am I going to say? I kick the skirting board and leave an instant scuff mark.
‘And… I know maybe this isn’t ideal for you, but could you perhaps just drive straight there? Rather than all that… camping?’ She spits out the word ‘camping’ as if it’s an unexpected seed in a clementine.
There’s another pause. I study my itinerary on the kitchen counter. The rambling and the woodlands and the kayaking and… oh God, the bird sanctuary. Shaking my head, I open my mouth to say ‘OK’ which is what I often find myself saying with Sarah. But instead, something unexpected comes out. ‘No.’
‘No?’
I straighten. I actually feel quite brave. Maybe it’s because I’m still in my oily work clothes. ‘Sarah, you’re more than welcome to come with me. But I’ve planned this whole… I’m kind of looking forward to the journey.’
I am, too. I’d been seeing a woman called Georgie for a few weeks but it’s kind of fizzled out. It’ll be nice to have some ‘me’ time. Clear my head.
‘Yes, but I’ve got work, Hal. I can’t just up and?—’
‘Um, I’ve got work too.’
‘Yes, but…’ she diplomatically doesn’t say it: that her work is far more important than mine. ‘I realise it’s a lot to ask,’ she chooses instead. ‘But?—’
‘Look, Sarah. All the campsites have Wi-Fi, I’ve checked!’ (This is a lie, I haven’t checked but I mean, it’s 2026, so probably, right?). ‘I have to work too.’ (Partly true). ‘Come on. It’ll be fun.’ (Far-fetched?)
There’s a silence. I’m expecting her to say that she’ll take the train (but maybe with a broken leg that’ll be a challenge too) or,I don’t know, get someone else to drive her or something. But in the end, I hear a small, ‘OK.’
‘OK?’
‘Yeah,’ she sighs. ‘I guess I can work on the road if I have to.’
‘Well, great! Pick you up tomorrow at eight!’
When we hang up, I take a huge gulp from my coffee, forgetting how hot it is and nearly spitting it all out over the kitchen tiles. I have just agreed to spend twelve meandering days with one of the most highly-strung and frankly scary women I’ve ever met.Merde.
3
SARAH
My leg is aching so I decide to perch a little on the front fence, my suitcases at my feet. I feel a little like I used to on the first day of school, waiting for the bus. For me, the bus was the worst part of the school day. Teachers, I could handle. Algebra, not a problem. But other kids, in a barely supervised metal box? Nightmare.
