Page 44 of The Golden Girls’ Road Trip

‘I think you need to stop, Con,’ she says. ‘You’re just going in further.’

‘One last try,’ I say, with my foot to the floor. And then the engine dies.

21

‘Well, this is just marvellous,’ Alex says in a dangerously low and deceptively calm voice. She opens her door and climbs out. She’s not remotely bothered about getting wet and trudges round to the back of the van. I climb out to join her and we both stand peering into the muddy mess.

I step into the lane and glance up it and down it, but really, there’s little point; we haven’t passed anything other than vegetation for ages. The lane peters out up ahead and not in a way that suggests a nice comfy farmhouse is waiting around the corner.

‘So, what now?’ Alex asks, even though she’s been the driving force up until this point.

‘I’m going to make a cup of tea and have a think about what’s best,’ I say, opening up the side door of the van and filling the kettle with water from the bottle. I use just enough for two cups, which leaves us with, what I hope, is sufficient to see us through the night, because Alex hasn’t reached that conclusion yet, even though I knew it as soon as I saw the mud flying everywhere.

‘Not everything will be solved with a cup of tea,’ she says, her voice beginning to rise now that the reality of our situation is settling in. ‘You said the van was perfectly roadworthy and would get us where we needed to be. In fact, you promised. Unsurprisingly, your promises, Connie, are, as ever, meaningless,’ she says with a snap.

‘Alex, you’re being incredibly unfair. You knew what I was driving when you asked me for my help. And I didn’t hesitate—’

‘You did actually; you did hesitate,’ she says, her arms folded across her chest.

‘Anyone would have. You were asking me to drive for hundreds of miles for you. And I am!’ I snap back. ‘We’ll walk up the lane at first light and find help, then we’ll just get the van fixed up and be on our way.’

‘No, Connie, we won’t. I thought this was a good idea and yes, I needed some help, but really, I think it’s time to call it a day.’

‘You didn’t need help. You only asked me to do this so you could find small ways to punish me,’ I say with a cold voice.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course I didn’t. Do you really think I’m harbouring some sort of resentment after all these years? Get over yourself, Constance!’ Alex walks away from the van, insisting she is going to find a house and a landline, but Bardo doesn’t follow her; he seems to have more sense. He looks up at me from the nest he’s made himself in the back of the van with an expression that suggests I should be doing something. I watch her progress until she comes to a stop in the darkening gloom of the tree-covered lane. She changes her mind and tuts loudly. Then she turns back, her face a picture of resentment, and walks round to the passenger door where she climbs back inside.

I try not to think about the mud she’s brought in with her. I sit down on the edge of the side door and pull my feet out of my shoes, then pop them into a carrier bag and tie the handles before tucking them behind my seat. Then I swing round and up to the stove, where I continue to make tea for two, regardless of whether Alex wants one or not. Sitting back in the driver’s seat I sip at mine and leave hers on the dashboard, where she seethes at it, but eventually she picks it up and grudgingly drinks it.

She tries repeatedly to get a signal on my phone, until I suggest she turns it off to conserve the life of the battery and, when she ignores me and continues to stab at it, I snatch it from her hand.

‘We’ll need it in the morning when we have to walk for help,’ I say. ‘Try your own phone.’

She pulls her’s from her bag, spends a few moments looking at it, then puts it back.

The sky isn’t just dark from clouds now; the day is gone and we have the night ahead of us in the van. I rummage among our provisions. We have half a bag of nuts, some chocolate biscuits and, more importantly, the bottles of wine I picked up in Bala, in a secret stash under the seat. I grab the battery-powered camping lamp and hang it from the rear-view mirror.

Pulling my crochet onto my lap and settling back into the driver’s seat, I begin to work with the wool I bought in Lampeter while Alex gazes out into the darkness, her arms folded firmly across her chest.

After half an hour, the tea gone and my stomach beginning to rumble, I push the blanket back in my bag and retrieve the wine and snacks. I don’t ask Alex if she wants one, I just pour, and when we both have a glass of red in our hands and a fistful of nuts each, the atmosphere settles and we sink properly into our seats. Say it now, I think. Say it now while she has nowhere to disappear off to. I take another gulp of wine.

‘How long have you got?’ I ask.

‘Until what?’

‘You can stop being brave and pretending. Morag told me.’

‘Morag? Told you what?’

Alex does genuinely look perplexed.

‘Will’s wife, you know, William and Morag.’

‘Aye, I know who they are. And how do you come to know Morag? I know full well you know William of course.’ This last she says with venom. She really doesn’t like him.

‘She said you were ill. She stopped me from going home after you snubbed me because she said you were terminally ill.’

‘What!’ Alex snorts and wipes some wine from her chin. ‘Why in God’s name did that old boot tell you that?’