Chapter 24
HAL
We’re an hour from Vivian’s when Betty starts to cough. She’s not a new vehicle by any means, so it’s not the only weird noise she’s made on the trip. But there’s something deeper, more terminal in the sound.
Sarah glances at me. ‘What the fuck was that?’
‘Nothing,’ I say, changing gears and praying to the car gods that Betty’s able to keep going just another seventy kilometres.
Betty makes a grinding noise. In the rear-view mirror, there’s a cloud of black smoke.
Anyone who drives a vintage vehicle will know that these things happen.
And sometimes I’ve found if I just ignore them, the symptoms go away and Betty lives to fight another day without intervention.
But there’s a cold, panic feeling spreading over me, nonetheless.
I’ve owned this camper for two decades, surely she can’t be about to let me down now?
A mile later, I discover that actually, yes, she is.
I pull into a lay-by just in time before something in the pedal gives and I have no accelerative power at all. Betty hisses and smokes and Sarah looks at me, her eyes wide with panic. ‘Oh shit, Hal,’ she says.
‘It’ll be fine!’ I try to act nonchalant as if I know what I’m doing. I go around to Betty’s engine and, using my shirt to protect my hands from the worst of the heat, open her up. I’m treated to a puff of smoke that blackens my hands, my shirt, and no doubt my face and hair as well.
Drooping with defeat, I plod back to the front and look up at Sarah, who’s regarding me from her seat.
‘Oh, Hal,’ she says and for a moment I think she’s going to launch into a tirade about my crap taste in motors, about my penchant for elderly vehicles.
But instead, a delighted grin spreads across her face.
She takes in my blackened skin, the hair that’s been forced upwards by smoke and steam.
My overall dishevelled appearance. And she begins to laugh.
At first, I feel a flicker of annoyance, but then I realise she’s not being cruel. And that the situation is about as ridiculous as situations get. And something inside me catches. Suddenly we’re laughing together at the ridiculousness of our predicament.
‘Well, that confirms it,’ she says when we finally regain our composure.
‘Confirms what?’
‘We’re both losers. We’ve got three working legs between us, one clean set of clothes and a broken-down VW.’
‘Living the dream?’ I suggest.
‘Right in the middle of the goddamn dream,’ she confirms.
I rummage in the glove compartment for my breakdown details and make a call. It takes ten minutes to get through the automated service, for which I have to confirm multiple times that I’ve broken down and need assistance. Despite our earlier hilarity, I’m starting to lose my cool.
‘OK, sir, we’ll have someone with you within the hour.’
‘Within the—’
‘Yes, we’ll have to contact our French associates, and it may take a while,’ the woman I’m talking to chirps. ‘But rest assured, we’re on the case.’
It’s 2 p.m. now and the sun is almost unbearably hot. We’ve just about survived so far because we’ve been able to crack open Betty’s windows and the speed I’m driving at has created a cooling breeze. But trapped in the van for an hour? With Sarah in this state?
I turn towards her and she raises an eyebrow.
‘Sarah,’ I say, as if I’m breaking terrible news. ‘I think you’re going to have to call your mum.’
‘Surely it hasn’t come to that?’
To Vivian’s credit, she arrives within forty-five minutes, meaning she must have broken at least one of the speed limits en route. Her little sports car turns neatly into the lay-by and moments later she steps out.
I haven’t seen her for a few years, but very little about her has changed. She’s dressed immaculately, her light red hair curled neatly around her face. She’s coiffed and made-up and clinking with jewellery, and even from a couple of metres away, I can smell the heady scent of her perfume.
She gives me a nod, then walks to the front of the van where Sarah’s sitting with her door open, leg stretched out into the sun, then, looking at her daughter, puts her hands on her hips.
‘Oh, Sarah,’ she says, with the air of one who has been let down too many times. ‘What have you got yourself into now?’
Sarah thanks her mum for coming then clambers down. I take her arm and Vivian shoots me a look. ‘I’ve got this, Hal. Don’t you worry. You stay with Barry or whatever.’
‘Betty,’ both Sarah and I correct in unison.
She flaps a hand. ‘Yes, yes. Your camper.’ She says camper in the same tone that someone might say ‘dog shit’ if they’ve stepped on an enormous festering pile. Her nose crinkles and she shakes her head almost imperceptibly. Then offers her arm to her daughter.
Sarah hesitates then reaches out for her mother. I take the crutch but keep hold of Sarah’s other arm, determined not to let go, to help her into the low seat of the Audi her mother drives.
It strikes me, as we cover the short distance between Betty and the sleek silver vehicle that makes her seem like a rusty antique in comparison, that it probably looks as if we’re kidnapping Sarah.
We half-walk, half-lug her to the car, each so determined to prove that we’re worthy of looking after her that we almost forget that Sarah is probably not as comfortable as she could be, being manhandled this way.
Then she’s in the car, looking up at me as I carefully feed the crutch over the back of her seat into the practically non-existent rear of the car. ‘Thanks, Hal,’ she says.
Vivian snorts as she makes her way around to the driver’s side. Then, hand on the door-handle, she raises her eyes to mine. ‘I suppose we’ll see you in a couple of hours?’ she says, in a way that betrays exactly how she feels about that.
‘Yeah, of course. As soon as I can.’
She regards me steadily for a moment and I feel her disapproval cascade all over me.
And I’m seventeen, on the doorstep with a bunch of flowers, not knowing what I need to say to get in and see my girlfriend.
Desperate to win the approval I still haven’t managed to receive over twenty years later. And something in me snaps.
‘Vivian, this isn’t my fault, you know!’ I tell her.
Her nostrils flare and she lets go of the handle, indicating with her head that we should walk a little way from the car. Her manner reminds me of the guys you see in bars on TV shows. Let’s take this outside.
I hope to God the woman doesn’t want an actual fight.
And that’s not because I’m gallant and can’t possibly fight a woman (although that’s also true, I hasten to add) but because I’m pretty sure if we did ever come to blows, Vivian would wipe the floor with me.
She’s small and slim, but she’s wily and can reduce me to a quivering wreck with one of her glares.
Still, I meet her at the back of the car.
Her face is thunderous.
‘What were you thinking, Hal?’ she says.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Taking Sarah in that clapped out old thing, when she’s in that state.’
‘I’m not… I didn’t—’ I begin. But then I realise that I actually agree with her.
‘The poor child is completely washed out. I wouldn’t be surprised if she develops an infection in that leg. I don’t see how she can look after herself while sleeping in that thing! And all that driving, with twenty-year-old suspension! It must have been unbearable.’
My head drops. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. I just didn’t think—’ I am so relieved that I haven’t told her about Sarah’s collapse. Her hospital stay.
‘And that is your problem,’ she says. ‘You don’t think. Never have.’
‘Hang on a minute!’ Because although I agree that this trip has not been great for Sarah’s health, Vivian doesn’t really know me.
She can’t judge my whole character simply from two – albeit pretty fucked-up – incidents in the past. Yes, I banged up her seventeen-year-old daughter and yes, I made her thirty-nine-year-old daughter ill by insisting on driving the scenic route in a clapped out…
no, vintage camper. But I’m not all bad.
Besides which, I’d planned this trip before I knew Sarah was coming with me. If things had panned out as planned, she’d have flown first-class to Nice and arrived a couple of days before me. Surely, I should get some credit for saving the day.
‘No, you hang on,’ she says. ‘I tolerate you because you’re Louis’s father.
And I know it’s important to the child that you turn up for him tomorrow.
But know this; you have been nothing but bad news for this family from the minute you showed up.
And I will smile and say the right things for the next few days, but the sooner you disappear after the wedding, the better! ’
Vivian has always smiled – albeit coldly – and said the right things when we’ve crossed paths over the last couple of decades.
I’ve always had the impression she didn’t think a lot of me, but to have it confirmed so vehemently is both surprising and painful.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ I tell her. ‘I’m Louis’s father.
And I’ll always be there for him, whatever you might think of me. ’
She gives a short bark of laughter, leaving me in no doubt about the low opinion she has in that regard.
‘And yes, maybe I messed up here with Sarah. But I’ve tried to look after her.’
‘Well—’ she begins.
‘Perhaps I haven’t always shown it, but I do love her,’ I say. ‘She’s the mother of my child and the most important woman in my life. And I would never have done anything intentional to hurt her.’
‘What a shame,’ Vivian hisses, ‘that you’re so good at hurting her unintentionally then.’
I open my mouth to retort, although God knows what I’m going to say, when Sarah’s door opens. ‘Are you coming?’ she says.
‘Sorry, dear.’ Vivian’s mask returns to her face. ‘Well,’ she says, pointedly. ‘Good luck. And see you in an hour or so. Sorry about your…’ she searches for an adequate word, ‘camper.’
‘Thanks, Vivian,’ I say as if she hasn’t just crushed my self-esteem into a messy pulp. ‘See you soon!’
She gives me one more pointed look, then climbs into the driver’s seat and moments later the engine revs as if to say This is what a decent vehicle sounds like!
Although I could be reading too much into that.
She turns with a slight screech on the gravel, then the car shoots into the road.
Sarah, sitting in the passenger seat, gives me a little wave.
I fix on a smile and wave back; clearly, she didn’t hear anything from my argument with Vivian and I’m glad.
Then I go to sit in Betty, sweltering in the humidity inside the cab, and wait for someone to come and rescue me.