AllFreeNovel
Share Us
With a sharp intake of breath, Cress looks at me, anxiety in her eyes. “Are you sure you want to go?”
Dad looks contrite when he sees her face. “Joke, Cress. Only a joke.”
“It will be fine,” I say. “I’ve been climbing all my life.”
Mum comes back into the dining room, Mrs. MacDonald and the coffee service in tow. “Where doing you think you are you going on Tuesday?”
“Rock climbing.” Sean burbles with enthusiasm.
“Not you.” Diana frowns.
“Oh, Mum…”
“He’ll be fine.” Les’ voice is firm. Diana gives a moue of assent.
“Oh. That should be fine.” Mum smiles. “Wednesday, we have other plans. But you’re leaving then, aren’t you, Ian?”
“Yeah, but it shouldn’t be a problem. If you’ll drive me down to Edinburgh after, I’ll just bring my kit with me. We can all have dinner in the city before I catch the train.”
“Not your dad and me. Too long a ride, too soon after the last one. But the rest of you can go.”
“What’s happening Wednesday?” I quiz.
“A little birthday treat for you, Max.” Mum’s smile is coy. “Everyone will have to be up early if we are going to finish up in time to take Ian to Edinburgh.”
ChapterTwenty-Four
Cress
At time for my driving lesson. Max pulls a in a fancy sports car out of the garage behind the house.
“Is this the car I’ll be learning on?”
Max leans his head back against the custom leather seat with a small smile. “Definitely not. We’ll use the estate Rover. If you decide you love driving, I might let you drive one of the sports cars some other time.”
I stick out my tongue like a six-year-old. And he runs a finger over it.
We’ve turned onto a gravel road near a stone building with a long rectangular paved strip. Max tells me that the structure has been converted into a hangar where Brian houses his two WWI-era planes. The strip used to be a driveway but was lengthened into a runway.
Once we’re past the makeshift airstrip, we jolt a bit farther to a large paved area of concrete are in what can only be called a parking lot on the Grant House estate, anchored by a huge corrugated iron shed. “That’s where we store most of the cars and all of the maintenance equipment,” Max tells me, pulling up next to the double doors. “The Rover’s in here.”
I manage to maneuver out of the low-slung vehicle and sigh, watching Max pull the big wagon out and position it facing toward the road.
“It’s old but reliable. We’ll start with the basics,” he says. “Then you can practice driving around the lot before we take it on the road.”
I get in the driver’s side and wait for him to come around and sit in the passenger seat to explain how the pedals and gears work. Now, an hour later, he says, for at least the hundredth time, “Let the clutch up slowly until you feel it catch.”
I push back against the frustration, check the gearshift to make sure it’s in neutral, press down on the clutch, and turn the key.
“Press on the brake with your right foot and shift into first.” Max’s voice is soft and warm. By now, I would think he’d be screaming at me. Or giving up.
He looks down at my feet, which are pressed against the two pedals. My hand grasps the bulb of the gear shift so hard my fingers blanch. The other clings to the wheel as if it’s a life preserver.
“Relax.” He strokes his thumb against my neck, under my ear, and I shiver.
“Not a good idea,” I snap, pulling away slightly. Can’t move much when you’re belted in.
He takes a deep breath. “Lift your foot off the brake.” I grit my teeth as he goes on, “Now gently let up on the clutch.”
