Chapter Thirty-Two
Thirty-Two
“There it is,” Dylan says, pointing from his squished spot in the back at a black car abandoned on the side of the narrow country lane. It’s been left in a sunken layby, his only hope as the snow became too heavy to see and his wheels started to spin out.
Freddie parks beside it. The road is deserted so there’s no concerns about holding anyone up as we all climb out of the car to assess the situation.
There’s still a foot of snow on the roof, the doors frozen shut and the windows iced up.
Dylan pulls on the driver’s door roughly until he hears the familiar cracking sound.
He climbs in, his breath visible as he fiddles with the keys.
Thankfully, the engine starts first time, so he turns to me with a triumphant grin.
I’m freezing outside and regret getting out of Freddie’s warm car but I’m feeling that familiar trickle of anxiety that I’ve done something I shouldn’t have. That I, Hattie Tycer, am the reason somebody else isn’t happy. And that breaks my heart.
To solidify my point, I turn my gaze to Sam, who is staring at his boots as he kicks the muddy snow on the side of the road. He’s lost his shine and I’m to blame.
So, instead of sitting there doing nothing, I’m going to help get Dylan’s car sorted.
We all set to work using our coat sleeves or random branches we find lying about to help clear it off.
Sara squeals as Sam brushes a ton of snow right off the corner and into her shoes.
Freddie produces some antifreeze spray and a scraper from his car.
Once it’s in a semi-driveable state, Sara and Priya both get back into the car, snatching Freddie’s keys so she can turn the engine on and get the heating firing up again.
I clench my damp-gloved hands into fists at my side. I swear my fingers are now blue.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Dylan says, walking round to give me an awkward half-hug.
I frown. “Why are you sorry?”
“I shouldn’t have just turned up like that. I should have warned you. And made better choices.”
“It’s fine, Dylan,” I say, finding the ghost of a smile to reassure him. “It’s been nice having you here. You get on so well with everyone and I’m just glad you didn’t have to suffer our family’s party.”
“And I would’ve suffered.”
I nod. “Utter torture.”
“You know I’ve always looked up to you, Hattie.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really! You’re the golden child in our family.”
I snort. “Not anymore.”
“Pfft. No, they hate you now. How dare you get broken up with?”
“Despicable.”
“Wait, stop. Let’s be serious.”
“Are we not always serious?”
“You’re going to be fine and you’re going to make the right decisions because that’s the woman you are,” Dylan says, nodding to himself. “Whatever happens, you’re going to be ok.”
“Thanks?” I laugh, unsure how to respond. “You know, you have similar genes, right. So, if you say these things to me, they probably apply to you too.”
“Oh no. I got all the bad genes. All of them.”
“Stop it.”
He shrugs. “I was actually going to ask you about career stuff at some point. Get your advice on how to be a grown-up. You know, things I should’ve figured out a few years ago.”
“I really don’t have much of a career,” I point out, fidgeting on my feet to warm up.
“You’re doing something you enjoy. It pays you enough to feed yourself and not live with your parents. So, you’re definitely somebody to look up to. And I’m going to be channelling that this year.”
I smile. “Tell you what, let’s have dinner at mine once a week. That way, we can catch up on your antics and I can help you find your happy career.”
“I’d love that,” he says before climbing into the driver’s seat and fiddling with the mirrors that are still glazed over.
“Oh, and Dylan,” I say before he closes the door. He grins up at me. “You should know I’ve always sort of been jealous of you too.”
“Ah yeah?”
“I wish I had even an ounce of your spontaneity. It’s your special thing and even though it might be good to settle a bit, don’t ever lose that.”
Before he can respond, I shut the door and he shakes his head. We’re not really the family for sentimental stuff. “Drive safely,” I shout instead.
That’s when the boot of his car opens and I see Sam chucking his bags in.
“What you doing?”
“Going home with Dylan.”
“Sam…”
“I’m not ready to sit in the car with you for the next four hours.
I need space. I just…” He stops at the passenger side.
I can just make out Dylan trying to act like he isn’t listening, fiddling with the heating vents in my peripheral vision.
Sam sighs. He can barely look at me. There’s that sharp ache again building in my chest. “I don’t know how to handle this right now.
I’m angry. And partly at you. But I’m not going to say things now that I might regret later. ”
And with that, he climbs into the car and slams the door. I fold my arms across my chest as I watch them speed off up the lane and out of sight.
“Hey,” Freddie’s deep voice calls to me from the car. I turn to find him leaning on the bonnet. “You ok?”
“I’ve hurt Sam.”
He twists his lips. “You’re not alone. He’ll come around.”
I chew on the end of my thumb. I want to have this conversation with Freddie, but it doesn’t feel like the best time. Especially when I know Sara and Priya will be watching unashamedly from the back seats. “Let’s go,” I say.
*
As soon as we hit the main roads, where the ice and snow had been cleared, it’s plain sailing.
It’s probably the longest time I’ve ever gone without talking when we reach the service station two hours later.
Is it because there’s so much to say, it’s easier to say nothing at all?
Or is it because I’m not even sure what I’m meant to say?
And in addition to that, I keep going over what I’m going to tell Adam to get him to back off.
He doesn’t just get to call me whenever he wants.
Priya and Freddie grab some drinks (non-alcoholic this time – I’ve had enough alcohol this New Year to last me months) for the last half of the drive. I follow Sara back to the car, having been entrusted with the keys.
“Hey, I’ve been thinking about what you said,” I say as we climb into the car.
“What did I say?”
“All your worries about getting married.”
“Ok…”
“You know, I didn’t expect that from you. I think it’s because I’ve always seen you as this super confident, independent woman who fights. You’re always fighting. You fight your family. You fight for your career. You fought that old man just now because he tried cut the queue.”
“And I would have won if that had become physical.”
“Well, yeah, but only because he was about eighty.”
“It’s just disrespectful, you know? I don’t care how old you are. This is Great Britain. We queue in an orderly fashion, even when there isn’t a clear need to queue. We like queues.”
I snort. “I was being sentimental. If you could please take your own advice and wait your turn.”
“You know I’d fight you too.”
“You’d have to catch me first. And stop it. Sara, I want you to know that your wedding is going to be perfect, and I can’t wait. But if it isn’t or anything didn’t work out for whatever reason, I still love you. We love you. And it doesn’t make you a fool, it makes you human.”
“Ugh, you’re going to make me sick.”
I grin and continue to torture her. “You need to tell that voice in your head, that makes you doubt whether you deserve love, to get lost. Because you do deserve to be loved. And you do deserve happiness. I’m going to need you to buck up and be less afraid of it.”
Sara looks away, staring out into the distance.
The distance being a seagull chasing a squirrel who just took quarter of a pasty that’s fallen from a bin beside the pasty truck.
Never let it be said that the UK doesn’t have beautiful scenery.
“You know, you don’t get to throw really lovely words at me and not receive some in return, right? ”
“What? You know how to be nice?”
“No, not really. But I’m going to say some things, so brace.”
I hold onto the overhead handle. Ready.
“You’re not going to believe this. And I think I know why, but I won’t go into a full character analysis right now. Did you know…” she pauses for effect, leaning closer to the front seat, “you can break the rules.”
I scoff. “Well, no, you can’t break the rules. That’s the point of rules.”
“But sometimes, rules are there to be broken. If no one ever broke the rules, this world would be a hideously dull place.”
“What rules are you even referring to?” I ask, but I think I know.
Sara just gives me a telling smirk as Freddie and Priya return, climbing into their respective seats and popping drinks into the cup holders. He checks my face briefly, barely even a glance, then we’re on the road again.
Back to silence.
When I look in the rear-view mirror as the sun drops below the horizon, I notice both Sara and Priya are fast asleep. I allow myself a moment to stare at Freddie’s side profile. I take in the hard lines of his face and his gentle, sloping nose. Is he a rule I can break?
I swallow, thinking about why we organised this party in the first place. The need to do something Adam would’ve hated. The need to do something fun for me again. And the catalyst to my year alone, independent and adventurous.
“What’re you thinking? I can see you staring at me,” Freddie says, his voice barely above a whisper.
“You’ll be going back to London later, right?”
He flexes his fingers over the steering wheel. “Yeah, I have work tomorrow. And I haven’t logged on for two whole days so for all we know, the company has crashed. That, and you know, I kind of live there.”
“Right. Yeah.”