in her handbag. The size of Laurie’s bag wouldn’t have contained Sylvie’s accessories let alone a week’s worth of clothes.
It messed plan A up though. She was supposed to have a great big suitcase full of clothes which he would have made her unpack and repack into a much smaller bag right there on the doorstep, accompanied with constant reminders that they had to get on the road otherwise they’d miss their train. The idea was that with his interference, she’d make decisions in such haste that she’d end up with all the wrong sorts of clothes for the trip.
At least he’d snaffled her cardigan and coat, he thought with a wry grin, as they went with her bag into the boot. She might live to regret handing them over quite so easily.
‘Good bag choice,’ he lied, flashing a smile, hoping it might loosen her up. This was going to be a long journey and it was going to be damn uncomfortable for the first leg. He ignored the twinge of guilt as he looked at her short-sleeved T shirt. Crossing his fingers behind his back, he hoped she was one of life’s stoics otherwise he was in for a lot of earache. He didn’t have her down as a sulker. In fact he didn’t have her down for anything. She seemed incredibly self-contained, distant and buttoned-up. Nothing emotion-wise leaked from her face. Even her mouth measured out in a straight line of neutrality, neither disapproving nor approving.
The rare view of the carefree girl on the race track had vanished again as if he’d imagined it. She inclined her head but still didn’t say much. He sighed loud enough to make the point. Her handbag suddenly seemed to command all her attention, and he watched as she touched her passport, and smoothed a bunch of papers.
‘You happy for me to drive the first leg. Get us to the tunnel?’
She nodded and he wondered at the flash of relief crossing her face. She didn’t need to worry; her driving rated well above competent. Hell, she knew how to handle a car. Amusement flooded anew through him. Who’d have thought it, although she’d scared the shit out of him at the time?
‘Not got any more surprises for me?’ he asked with a wry smile, thinking of what he’d got in store for her.
Her eyes widened. ‘No. Why?’
She sounded nervy again, with that tone of almost guilt. ‘Just wanted to check you weren’t going to pull any more stunts like the last one.’
She shook her head, her ponytail whipping out quickly, reminding him of a dog shaking itself dry.
‘Got everything?’ he asked firing up the ignition.
For a moment he saw her hands grip together around the bag, as if clutching a lifebelt.
‘Yes,’ her chin lifted as if she’d come to a decision. ‘Let’s go.’
For the first couple of miles he concentrated on the road and had to go at a relatively steady pace. In the heavy sweater he felt too warm but he sat it out, knowing that as soon as they hit the faster road, he’d be grateful for it.
Once they joined the M25 and started to pick up speed, nipping along in the fast lane, the temperature began to drop inside the car. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laurie shrink into her seat as if trying to escape the chilly breeze that was leaking through the nearly closed windows.
‘Sorry, the windows don’t fit as well as they do in a modern car,’ he shouted over the shrill whine of the wind that filtered through the small gap. ‘Should have forewarned you,’ he lied. Before he’d set off that morning he’d deliberately tampered with the windows, opening them just a few millimetres so that they would let the air whistle in to make the journey as uncomfortably draughty and noisy as possible. Now they were cruising along at seventy, the full effect had made itself felt.
‘You OK,’ he yelled, cheerfully mindful of the goose bumps appearing on her arms.
‘Fine.’
He smiled to himself and then focused on the road, nipping into the outside lane and starting to pick up speed. At eighty the whistling was horrible and starting to hurt his ears, but no pain no gain. For the next twenty minutes he needed to keep his wits about him. The M25 was a pig at the best of times, with a tendency to back up with no notice and invariably you got some pillock spotting the badge and deciding to take you on.
It was only when he realised how cold his hands were that he risked a glance at Laurie. Unfortunately the effect of the cold on Laurie’s body had made itself very apparent and her nipples on her small rounded breasts were suddenly very prominent. Like a magnet they drew his gaze and Laurie glanced round and caught him in the act. With a florid blush staining her cheeks, she crossed her arms and determinedly looked out of the window.
He swallowed hard. Shit the last thing he’d meant to do was embarrass her.
‘Do you want me to stop? So you can get a jumper or something?’
‘No,’ she muttered, her head still turned away from him.
He felt a complete arse but despite that, now that he’d registered the peaked nipples, he couldn’t seem to help himself keep checking her profile.
Letting her freeze was one thing, humiliating her was another.
‘Do you want to see if you can do something with the windows, sometimes the mechanism works loose during the journey. You might be able to wind it up a bit.’ The lies sounded lame to his own ears.
She gave him a sharp glance and with quick neat fingers, wound the old fashioned lever. The glass slid smoothly into place with a sharp clean move, immediately quenching the awful whistling and the cold wind.
Watching the road, he didn’t need to turn to her to see her steady gaze on him; he could damn well feel it boring into him.
‘Funny that. Do you think your side might have “worked loose” too?’
He wound his window up feeling like a chastened schoolboy. OK, so that hadn’t gone so well, but they had a long way to go and he still had plan C.
Hopefully without talking and no music, Laurie would quickly get bored and realise that ownership of this car was quite different to the comfort and ease she was used to.
An hour into the journey, he realised that although she seemed quiet and contemplative, she’d relaxed a little. Like a student determined to learn everything she could, she watched the gear changes and studied the flow of the traffic around them. He smiled at her concentration. She looked like a rapt robin, her head bobbing up and down, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she took everything in.
The bing of her mobile coincided with them mounting the incline of the Dartford Bridge. The fingers on the hand holding the phone whitened, as she read whatever the message said and he heard her breath hiss out. He waited, sliding into the middle lane, still aware of all the traffic around them, expectant of some moan or complaint. Except that was totally unfair. So far, despite having some cause, she hadn’t moaned or complained once and despite him not talking, she seemed quite capable of holding her own counsel.
Clearly something was going on with the texts, it was the fourth she’d received since they set off and her face had become increasingly grim but she’d not said a word. Not like his ex-wife who liked to share every nuance of emotion and feeling, and had expected the same in response.
He winced at the memories. The constant emotional barrage had pushed him further and further
