The Road Trip(60)

‘First things first, you probably need to drive faster than ten miles per hour,’ Dylan says apologetically. ‘Or we might all die.’

‘Right, right,’ I say, accelerating. ‘Oh, God, can you see her?’

Dylan strains to look out the window, but he’s on the wrong side. ‘Marcus?’ he says.

‘Can’t see her,’ Marcus says. ‘This is priceless.’

‘Oh dear, poor Deb!’ says Rodney.

‘Yes, thank you, everyone,’ I say, trying not to hyperventilate. ‘Shall I come off at the next junction? Where will she expect to meet us? What do we do?’

‘Breathe, Ads – it’s Deb. She could handle being dumped alone in the Sahara. She’ll just find this funny. Or mildly annoying,’ Dylan says, and I jump slightly as I feel his hand on my shoulder. He withdraws it quickly. I wish I hadn’t jumped.

‘Oh, God,’ I say, letting out a strangled laugh. We’re going at thirty now, which is about the same speed as everyone else as the motorway starts to get moving again. This would usually feel annoyingly slow but right now, while Deb’s spot on the verge slips away in my left mirror, it feels way too fast. ‘I need to get into the left lane. Marcus, would you please stop fucking cackling back there? It’s not helpful.’

Dylan snorts with laughter. I catch his eye for a moment in the internal mirror. He pulls a face.

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘It’s just . . . It is . . . a bit . . .’

I swallow down a laugh, but it comes back, and before I know it my shoulders are shaking too. ‘Shit,’ I say, lifting a hand to my mouth. ‘Why am I laughing?’

‘Pissing behind a tree!’ Marcus snorts, voice shaking with laughter. ‘Imagine her face when she comes back and we’re gone!’

‘Oh, no, oh, gosh,’ Rodney says, and I can hear that he’s stifling his laughter too.

We’re coming up to the next junction. I indicate, still giggling, kind of also crying, generally just feeling totally unhinged. Why the hell did I let Deb get out the car for a wee?

‘The traffic just hadn’t moved in so long!’ I say.

‘It was always going to move as soon as Deb got out,’ Dylan says. ‘It’s sod’s law.’

‘I’m an idiot,’ I say, still laugh-crying. ‘This was a terrible idea.’

‘You’re not an idiot,’ Dylan says, sobering. ‘You gambled and lost, that’s all. Or, you know, Deb did. Hey, there’s a Budget Travel Hotel – pull into their car park, maybe?’

I make a last-minute indicate and follow his direction. As I pull into a space in the car park and turn the key in the ignition, I realise I’m shaking.

Things don’t seem so funny, suddenly.

‘How will she know to find us here? Should we go looking for her?’

‘Let’s just try to think like Deb,’ Dylan says, as I twist around in my seat to look at the three of them.

Marcus is grinning into his fist, shaking his head. Rodney has his arms around himself in a sort of protective hug, like a kid on their first day of school. And Dylan is chewing thoughtfully at his lip. The sun catches across his face like the beam of a spotlight, turning his eyes pale lemon-lime, and more than anything I want to kick Rodney and Marcus out of this car and crawl into his lap.

It’s weird. Dylan was never the person I would turn to when I was upset. So it’s not a habit thing. Back when we were together, he was the last person I’d choose to cry on – mostly because when I was crying, it was because of him, and he’d not have a clue I was even upset. That was how we worked. We were so close but we barely told each other anything.

‘Think like Deb,’ I repeat. ‘OK. Well, she’s always practical. She’ll swear a bit, then she’ll go, what now?’

‘Maybe she’ll try and hitchhike?’ Rodney suggests. ‘Hail someone down?’

‘Maybe,’ I say slowly. ‘Or she might try and walk. I think she’ll assume we came off the motorway as soon as we could, right? How long would it take her to walk from where we dropped her to here? Rodney?’

Rodney busies himself clicking away on his phone.

‘We were driving for, what, a few minutes? It can’t be that long a walk?’

‘An hour,’ Rodney says. ‘It’s an hour’s walk, unless she cuts across the fields, which would save her some time.’

‘An hour’s walk?’ Marcus says, leaning forward to look at the phone over Rodney’s shoulder. ‘Are you sure your phone isn’t broken? All you do is tell us everything takes fucking for ever.’

‘Sorry,’ Rodney says, stretching the phone out for Marcus to look. ‘It’s just . . . what it says . . .’

Marcus rolls his eyes. ‘Well, I’m getting out,’ he says. ‘Deb isn’t the only one who needed a piss. Do you think that place has toilets?’

‘The Budget Travel? Yes, I think it probably does have toilets, Marcus,’ I say.

‘Excellent.’ He climbs out the car, shaking his damp T-shirt with two fingers, unsticking it from his body. ‘Ugh,’ he says, as he slams the door behind him.

‘Thoughts on driving off now?’ I say.

‘Deb, though,’ Dylan says.