Page 28 of The Golden Girls’ Road Trip

I begin to relax. Alex seems in good spirits, literally, and the lemon sole is delicious. I decide not to spoil the atmosphere with awkward questions.

She is unsteady on the way out of the restaurant and twice I offer up my arm for support. Twice she declines.

‘Do you mind if I get some wool while I’m here?’ I ask her.

‘Sure, whatever you want,’ she responds with a shrug.

‘There’s a shop just off the High Street,’ I say, making my way back down the hill. ‘Will you be okay with the walk?’

‘Of course I will be,’ she says, and marches ahead for a few paces before sliding back beside me. We wander past the huge body of St Giles’ Cathedral and slip into its shadow before the heat of the afternoon sun finds us again on the other side. I take my baseball cap from my bag and stuff it onto my head. The shop is further than I remember, and I’m concerned about the combination of wine and heat on Alex, but she accepts the bottle of water I offer from my bag and eventually we arrive. She waits outside with Bardo, while I pop in and pick up a ball of cream wool with grey and warm stone-coloured flecks. It reminds me of the walls of Edinburgh Castle. I show Alex when I walk back out of the shop, pleased with my purchase, but she looks surprised.

‘For a baby’s blanket?’ she says. ‘Odd choice.’

I drop it into my bag and begin the walk back to the van.

The sun is warm on our faces as we make our way back past the castle. I’m squinting into it because I left my sunglasses on my seat in the van, but Alex has hers and she is the epitome of a chic older woman. For a mad moment I want to take a photograph of her or suggest a selfie of the two of us, the castle as a backdrop, but I hold my tongue.

‘Ah, the wool,’ she says, pointing up past the craggy rock face to the castle above. ‘That’s canny.’

We leave Edinburgh, replete, and only make it as far as the A68 before Alex falls asleep. She’s reclined her seat and balled up her cardigan as a neck support, Bardo on her lap. I keep going, occasionally glancing at my sleeping friend. It is so hard for me to believe that after all this time wondering about her, she is right here next to me, content and comfortable. I turn the dial for the radio and find some gentle music, making sure the volume is down low. I tap my thumbs on the steering wheel in time to the beat and let out a soft sigh of contentment. For now, all is well.

14

We arrive in York at seven and head straight for the place Alex has booked in the city centre. The Elm House is a pretty stone building, a holiday home with private parking and I’m grateful for that. York Minster cathedral looms overhead as I reverse into the tight space, and I wonder why Alex hasn’t booked into a hotel.

‘I like to be self-sufficient when I’m away,’ she says as if I’ve spoken aloud. ‘I don’t mind a good hotel if the service is excellent, but I’d rather do my own thing if I can. Plus, I will sneak Bardo into a hotel, but it’s easier if I don’t have to.’

I turn off the engine and watch her as she applies some lipstick in the visor mirror. She doesn’t seem like the sort of person who is self-sufficient anymore. She used to be, though.

Alex could cook up a meal from next to nothing for her family. She would peg washing on the line in the garden with her little brother hanging from her back like a monkey. She once fixed the engine on her uncle’s boat so we could take it out on the loch. I was in awe of her and her limitless attributes. I was just a posh London girl with a good education under my belt. Lady Constance Fitzgerald, Alex called me when she first met me. I wasn’t a lady, not really, although my mother certainly thought herself of noble stock with the circles she and my father moved in. My parents both coddled and neglected me at the same time, and then rejected me when I returned from Scotland six weeks later in even more disgrace than when I’d left.

‘This looks expensive,’ I say, feeling again that inadequacy. Alex wafts her hand about as if the cost is of no consequence and I’ll just have to assume she’s paying.

‘Don’t worry about it, Connie, just relax.’

Alex walks the dog over to a patch of grass so he can relieve himself and digs in her pocket for a plastic bag to clear up. Then he disappears towards the minster at a sprint.

‘Alex! He’s running away,’ I say, beginning to chase after him, but Alex puts her hand out to stop me.

‘He’s just gone for a run; he’ll be fine,’ she says.

‘But, what about the road? He could be killed.’

‘Honestly, he’s fine and has excellent road sense.’

I want to protest, but then he reappears from round the corner and trots up to us. Alex looks smugly at me, although I think she’s being irresponsible. But then, Alex has never liked rules.

We open the door with a keypad and after Alex has pressed the numbers, we drag our bags inside and she closes the door. I take a breath and step away from her as the atmosphere suddenly becomes quite intimate in this small private hallway.

‘Pick whichever room you want and I’ll get some wine open and feed the dog,’ she says, also moving away. ‘I asked them to leave a couple of bottles in the kitchen for us.’

I walk up the windy staircase to check the bedrooms, already deciding to take the smallest, and I hear the pop of a cork behind me. What must it be like to live the way she does? I quit that world many years ago and it seems that I have vacated it and Alex has taken up residence in it now.

Both rooms are beautifully decorated and furnished with velvet curtains and rich, dark floral bedding, and I take the one without the en suite. I drop my bag onto the bed and use the bathroom on the landing. Downstairs, Alex is in the living room with her feet up on an oak coffee table, her shoes thrown down beside her. Bardo is asleep in the soft bed Alex has brought for him. She’s cradling a large glass of wine and I see there’s one on the table for me too. No more driving until tomorrow – I swoop down and lift it up, swallow a large mouthful, then I sink into the chair opposite her and we relax into a comfortable silence.

My eyes feel heavy and it would be so easy to fall asleep here, but the wine has already hit me and I need to eat. The thought of going out again is more than my tired body can cope with.

‘Do you fancy a takeaway?’ I ask and Alex smiles.