Chapter 2
Peg was well over an hour into her journey by the time the first flashes of brake lights came, a whole line of them stretching into the distance, vivid in the rapidly darkening afternoon.
Five minutes ago it had been bright sunshine, but now the sky looked leaden.
She frowned. There wasn’t any snow forecast – the weather had been one of the things she’d checked when she’d stopped for petrol.
Sub-zero temperatures, yes, but dry all the way home.
She wriggled in her seat, sitting slightly more upright, and drove slowly on, matching her speed with those of the cars ahead.
She was cautious but not unduly worried.
Such was the nature of motorways; it was probably just someone stuck in the outside lane when they shouldn’t be.
But ten seconds later she had slowed her speed by half.
Indicating, she changed lanes, moving across to the slow lane where there was the least amount of traffic.
By the time she had completed the manoeuvre, however, she was almost at a standstill, and now all three lanes were filled with cars, bunched up and crawling.
It was scary how little time it took for that to happen.
Glancing in her rear-view mirror again, she could see the spaces behind her dwindle to nothing as more vehicles slowed and pulled up behind.
She switched off her music and came to a complete stop.
The rear of the car in front was filled with bedding, piled high so that only a slender gap between it and the roof remained.
A child’s duvet cover decorated in dinosaurs lay uppermost, and although she couldn’t see the occupants of the car, it was Christmas Eve the day after tomorrow – it didn’t take a genius to work out that they were either going on holiday or would be staying with relatives come their journey’s end.
She glanced around her, wondering how many other families were in the same situation.
The delay wouldn’t make that much difference to her, but what about everyone else?
She hoped for their sakes they would soon be moving again.
Every car held a different story, had a different destination – hundreds, if not thousands of lives crossing and interconnecting – and it drew her memory back to past journeys, previous Christmases when the children were small.
When the drive was filled with cries of ‘are we nearly there yet?’ and feverish excitement that inevitably led to petty squabbles and bickering.
And Julian, who always drove on such occasions, never minded.
He never once lost his temper with them, or told them to be quiet, and she was reminded anew that she never understood then how precious those times were, how fleeting they would be.
She always thought there’d be more years, the infinite supply that youth imagines, but they had slid by with alarming speed until, suddenly, the children were grown and gone, and then, not nearly enough years later, Julian had gone too. Only he was never coming back.
She examined her thoughts for a moment, wondering fleetingly why those memories had come to her now.
But she knew why. She understood only too well how poignant this time of year could be, how every car around her held lives in motion.
And lives in motion were subject to change.
The smallest thing could deflect them from their original trajectory, sending them spinning, pushing them off course.
Sometimes to a better place, but not always.
The cars in the other two lanes were still crawling past, inching their way forward, but it was clear that whatever was holding everyone up was big enough to affect all the traffic, and she shivered. Please God, let there not have been an accident.
Peg had done this journey so many times she knew the route like the back of her hand, but she still had the directions mapped out on her phone.
Just like she’d told the man at the petrol station, you could never be too careful.
And when she looked at the snaking line of the M5 motorway on her screen, it was red.
She moved the map with two fingers, following the red line first one way, and then the other.
Already the queue behind her stretched for some distance but in front…
She peered closer, frowning. There seemed to be no end to it.
She looked up, alerted by something else, a sound which, as she waited, grew louder. Moments later, her wing mirror filled with flickering blue light as a police car flashed past on the hard shoulder, followed almost immediately by an ambulance. She dropped her head and turned off the car’s engine.
It was bitterly cold outside, and now that the engine was no longer running, the warm air from the heating disappeared, too.
She could feel the cold air seeping towards her and she shivered.
She had taken off her coat at the petrol station – it was too bulky to drive in comfortably and irritated her after a while – but she would be glad of it now.
It was clear she might be stuck here for quite some time.
She unclipped her seat belt and reached around to fish it from the back seat.
As she did so, a car in the far lane caught her eye.
Like the others, it was still inching forward, as if desperate to claim every bit of space available to it.
Didn’t people realise it would make no difference?
She turned back to watch its progress as it moved slowly past her, craning her neck in an attempt to see around the other vehicles.
It came to rest two cars ahead of her, still in the outside lane, and although with such limited vision she couldn’t be sure, she was fairly certain the driver was the man she had encountered earlier.
It was the same colour car, and he was wearing a bright orange scarf over a blue jumper.
She couldn’t see the curls of messy dark hair which fell across his forehead, but she could imagine they were there. She smiled. What were the chances?
Tussling with her coat in the confined space, she wriggled herself into it, and then sat back with a sigh.
She turned her music back on but almost immediately turned it off again.
It seemed incongruous now she was no longer moving.
And she was peckish, too. Perhaps another Werther’s would help.
But then again… She glanced at her watch.
She’d made herself some sandwiches for the journey and hadn’t planned on eating them just yet, but she could have one – that wouldn’t hurt, surely?
The tinfoil-covered package glinted in teasing fashion from the passenger seat.
An hour later, Peg was bored. Bored, cold and hungry.
She tapped her feet in an effort to keep warm and shoved her hands under her armpits even though she had already thrust them into her gloves quite some time ago.
It was no good; she couldn’t just sit there.
Neither the cold, her hunger or the thoughts in her head were going to go away unless she did something about them.
The book she was halfway through reading was packed in her bag, and it was only in the boot, she could fetch it in an instant, but the thought of reading irritated her, and she didn’t know why.
She felt restless, not anxious exactly, but unsettled nonetheless, and the idea which had come to her only moments before was taking up far too much room in her head.
She turned on the car’s ignition and flicked the wipers, sending a wash of water over her windscreen.
Her view cleared somewhat but, predictably, her situation didn’t.
It was ridiculous to think that it would.
Everyone had turned their engines off now, so even the glowing red dots from people’s rear lights had disappeared.
Picking up her phone, she navigated to the site she used for road traffic information, closing her eyes briefly as she read the information on the screen.
It was official. Their section of the M5 was the site of an ‘incident’ and they would be subject to several hours’ delay while it was closed.
She took a deep breath. It was time to find out if she was about to make a complete fool of herself.
Climbing from the car, she pulled open the rear door on her side, collected several things from the back seat and began to thread her way between the rows of cars.
She paused a moment, but only to get a better view.
She wasn’t bothered what people might think of her, she gave up worrying about things like that a long time ago, but she was keen to see if her deductions had been right.
Reaching the car in question, she bent a little and tapped on the passenger window. Okay, Peg, try not to look deranged…
The face which greeted hers was startled, but, she was pleased to see, flickered with recognition.
She’d been right about the orange scarf and blue jumper, and the dark curly hair.
The man from the petrol station clearly knew who she was, too.
He quickly wound down the window and leaned across to see her better.
‘I thought it was you,’ she said. ‘What are the chances?’
He shook his head, smiling. ‘Crazy,’ he replied. ‘Although right now it does seem as if the entire world is stuck on the motorway. There’s been a spillage of some sort, did you know? We could be stuck here hours.’
‘Which is why… I’ve brought these. Mince pies, would you like one?’ She lifted the tin she was carrying to show him, not that easy given all that was under her arm. ‘I’ve also got sandwiches, some tea and a bag of crisps… Sorry, I came prepared.’
He leaned across to open the door. ‘So I see. Here, let me take them.’
She passed him the tin first before unloading the rest of her packages one by one until she was able to slide into the seat unhindered. She held out her arms to take them back again.