‘You’re not still working, are you?’ I ask, as we pull up behind a line of traffic. ‘I thought we agreed to take Christmas off?’
‘We did,’ she replies, not lifting her gaze. ‘I just need to reply to a couple of emails and then I’ll be finished. . . and maybe one phone call, but I can do that at services when we stop.’
I sigh and turn on the radio, knowing that a couple of emails means we’re pretty much going to spend the journey in silence, while she batters through her inbox. At least the car is beginning to warm up again.
‘Remember you still have a chance to win ten thousand pounds for Christmas here at Heart FM where we play the biggest hits all day every day.’
‘God, remember this?’ I exclaim, as ‘Step into Christmas’ begins to play. In year 11, Hope Valley High School held a Christmas hoedown (for reasons no one fully understood) and Kate and I were thrown together as partners. For two weeks beforehand, instead of PE, the teachers made us learn several cringe-inducing line dances and it was truly one of the mostexcruciating fortnights of my life. However, this song reminds me of more than just the awkwardness of youth (and the fact that I can still do a mean grapevine); it reminds me of the first time I asked Kate out. In the middle of the gym hall, me wearing a pair of second-hand cowboy boots and ill-fitting jeans, and she still said yes.
My mental lasso dancing is rudely interrupted when Kate sighs loudly and switches off the radio. ‘I can’t concentrate with that bloody song playing.’
‘Jeez, grumpy are we, Ebeneezer?’ I reply, somewhat hurt that she doesn’t remember the significance of this Christmas masterpiece. ‘Just trying to get us into the Christmas spirit.’
‘Sorry,’ she replies. ‘I’m just not in the mood for festive songs yet. . . and I swear, if you play that version of Slade’s “Merry Xmas Everybody” where that Scottish guy just repeats the “hanging up your stocking” line over and over for the entire song, I will kill you.’
‘But it’s really funny. . .’ I begin, letting my words trail off when I realise she’s not even listening, her thumbs continuing to tap at speed. I stare straight ahead in silence, determined to get her to unwind, even if she does indeed kill me. Never mind, I think. In a few hours we’ll be at my parents’ house, drinking mulled wine and—
‘Wait, why are you going this way?’ she asks, momentarily looking away from her phone.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask, confused by the deep frown lines which have now taken over her forehead. ‘This is the way we always go.’
She points to the road ahead. ‘It’s completely gridlocked, Ed. Which GPS are you using? We should be able to get around this, surely. I mean, is it even switched on? I haven’t heard any voice commands.’
‘Um, I must have it on mute or something. I’ll sort it when westop.’
Bugger. I was hoping to avoid this. Before I can say anything else, Kate grabs my phone and turns on the screen.
‘Are you kidding me, Ed?’ she says, scrolling through my open tabs. ‘You have three map apps on this phone, and you haven’t even opened one of them!’
‘I don’t need to,’ I inform her. ‘I know this journey like the back of my hand.’
‘Does the back of your hand also give you real-time traffic updates?’ she replies, tossing my phone into the cupholder. ‘We could have avoided all this if you’d just used Waze. . . or Google Maps. Christ, even Apple maps is better than nothing!’
‘It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway,’ I insist, driving approximately three feet forwards. ‘No GPS is going to magically part the fucking traffic like Moses.’
‘It’s two days before Christmas. Everyone’s heading out of London. You should have gone via the M40. You don’t need a satnav to tell you that.’
‘I don’t need a satnav to tell me anything, Kate!’ I exclaim, my festive glow beginning to dampen. ‘I could do this journey with my eyes closed.’
‘Of course, you could– we’re not bloody moving!’
‘Look, I’m sorry you’ve had a shitty day, but don’t take it out on me. If you’d actually been on time we might have—’
She drops her phone on her lap. ‘Well,excuseme for taking my job seriously, Ed,’ she snipes. ‘Heaven forbid someone in this relationship has some ambition.’
‘Well, that was uncalled for,’ I say, continuing to creep forwards a whole two inches. ‘And what the hell do you even mean by that? I’m a teacher– that’s hardly unambitious. I don’t understand you sometimes.’
‘Exactly. How can you possibly understand my situation if you’ve never cared about being successful?’
‘Our definitions of success are obviously very different,’ I reply coldly. ‘And, for the record, I find it bizarre that you would keep yourself in a job you hate, surrounded by people you dislike, just to earn a bit extra.’
‘A bit extra? You mean the bit that pays for most of the rent? That bit?’
‘Fucking hell, not everything is about money, Kate!’ I exclaim, tempted to stop the virtually stationary car and get out. ‘Yes, you earn more than me but at least I’m happy. You used to be happy, remember?’
‘Barely,’ she mumbles.
‘And once upon a time you had your heart set on Human Rights Law so you couldmake a difference. All that humanity suddenly vanished when they added an extra zero to your salary, didn’t it?’
