Chapter 13 #2
It’s been one of those golden days where everything comes together.
Where you look up from the drudgery of motherhood and realise, it’s all been worth it.
Both of us had fun, and we enjoyed each other's company.
When Effie is safely in bed, I stretch out on the sofa, a smile still on my face and a warmth in my chest. I defy Dana and Fiona, or Anders himself, to have had a better day.
Sunday is wet, so Effie gets her wish to re-watch How to Train Your Dragon.
When I accidentally mention the film is based on a book, she pesters me until I download the first one and begin to read it to her.
The illustrations don’t work so well on my phone, but we pass a pleasant afternoon snuggled up together while the rain smatters on the windowpane.
Monday comes, grey but dry. I check the forecast and the rain is due to hold off until the evening.
I have held back from mentioning anything until now because the weather on this little island is so changeable.
But as she scrambles onto her chair at the table, I ask, “Would you like to go to Legoland?”
“Legoland?” she echoes. “Is it a land made of Lego?”
“It’s not an entire land but a big park. They have rides and…”
“Do they have Lego?” she cuts to the chase.
“Yes,” I say, hoping they do. I’ve never been, but I messaged Nur for a recommendation and she suggested it. And that’s how we find ourselves climbing into our trusty conveyance, Lucinda, and heading down the motorway toward Windsor.
Effie loves it. We spend longer than I like in the Lego playroom but there’s still time for most of the attractions.
Unlike the lad in front, who has to be restrained from jumping out of the boat as we float down the Fairytale Brook, Effie stays seated, but her eyes shine and she catches my hand as she calls out each character she recognises; Little Red Riding Hood and the three little pigs, a troll hiding under a bridge.
Effie has a remarkable talent. If she’s unhappy, everyone suffers. But if she’s happy, she brings joy to the world. And she is having so much fun. We ride the carousel and the dragon rollercoaster, go under the water in the submarine and marvel at the models of London landmarks in Miniland.
Not a little part of me is smug as we head back to the car park. It’s not often I feel like I’m smashing this motherhood lark but Effie is so happy as she climbs into Lucinda, I know I’ve done good. It’s a rare feeling.
We set off for home, following the long line of cars exiting the car park.
Eventually, we reach the exit and turn onto the main road.
But as I’m accelerating up to speed, suddenly all power disappears.
When I brake, it feels hard, like nothing is working.
I steer into the side of the road as we finally come to a stop.
I sit stunned for a few seconds, then a car hoots at us, and I reach for the hazard lights. We’re sitting ducks here. Anyone could rear-end us. Effie! I whip around to check on her, but she’s still happily ensconced in her car seat. She hasn’t noticed anything wrong yet.
But she will. Attempting to keep my voice as calm as possible, I explain to her that Lucinda is sick and can’t go any further.
I tell her we need to get out so I can call someone to come and help Lucinda.
Then, moving fast, I wait for a break in the traffic before hopping out and hurrying around to her door.
“Quickly,” I tell her as I help her out.
For once, she doesn’t ask questions; she’s too tired.
There’s a path to one side and I park her there as I gather coats and bags.
Lucinda looks entirely innocent. There’s no steam leaking skyward, no smoke, no obvious damage but I have a sense she may never recover.
Not being at all mechanically inclined, I have no idea what is wrong but at least I have breakdown cover.
I pull out my phone and contact the service I’d joined, never expecting I’d have to use them.
It’s an age before an operator picks up, which is not a good sign. When they do, I answer all their questions.
Finally, the operator says, “Someone will be with you in three hours.” It’s said in a reassuring tone of voice.
“Three hours?” I echo. “It’ll be dark by then.”
“Three hours,” the voice reaffirms. “It’s a bank holiday. Unfortunately, we’re very busy.”
“But I’m a woman alone with a child. Surely that’s a priority?”
“That is our priority response,” the operator confirms and disconnects. I pity any poor bugger who is in a group. They’ll likely be waiting a week. But it doesn’t help Effie and me. She’s wilting. If this goes much further, she’ll be in danger of a meltdown.
I check my phone again. We’ve been at the park all day and my battery is in low-power mode. Effie’s voice interrupts, pale and small, none of her previous happiness evident. “I’m hungry,” she says. “And it's raining.”
She’s right. And we’ve eaten all the snacks I brought with us.
I pull up the hood on her coat, then rifle through Lucinda’s door pockets and centre console.
Eventually, I turn up a small packet of cheesy crackers.
I’ve no idea how old they are but they’re probably safe, if stale.
I pass them to Effie. If the look on her face is anything to go by, they’re not fresh but she eats them anyway.
Meanwhile, I wipe the droplets off my phone screen and look through my contacts.
Dana and Fiona are out. They’re in France.
Nur is visiting her mother-in-law this weekend in Birmingham.
Ginny and Rob don’t have cars. I flick through my contacts, dismissing one after the other.
In the end, there’s only one name I can come up with.
And he did say he would be there for me.
What were his words? Every time, everywhere.
I hit dial.
“Cora.” Anders manages to sound surprised, suspicious, and pleased all in one word. He can probably guess I’m not calling to chat.
“I need help,” I say with a sigh, and I tell him about my car and the breakdown service.
“Send me a pin,” he says. “I’ll be there as soon as.”
After doing as he asked, I let my phone lapse into standby mode.
I need to conserve charge in case, by some miracle, the recovery truck calls to say they’re on their way.
I busy myself hauling Effie’s car seat out and rigging up a rain cover for it with my emergency umbrella.
She gives me no argument when I suggest she climbs into it.
I stand outside in the rain, with my hoodless coat held above my head.
The wind picks up, wrapping freezing fingers around my torso. I shiver. This is miserable.
The stream of traffic from the park has tailed off but this brings an added danger as the cars on the road are moving at a faster speed, often not registering the hapless Lucinda until dangerously close.
We wait hours, although it’s only forty minutes before an electric SUV whispers to a stop just ahead of my poor car.
Orange lights blink on and Anders climbs out of the vehicle.
I’ve never been more pleased to see my boss in my life.
But as he draws close, I notice what he’s wearing. Shiny Oxford shoes, a wool overcoat and a Yale blue suit. He’s even sporting a gold patterned tie, although this has been pulled loose, his top button undone. Anders never wears formal wear. Unless…
“Where were you?” I ask.
His forehead wrinkles, his surprise evident. “Aurora’s wedding.”
“But that was Saturday. People get married on a Saturday.”
“Not Aurora. Greg was pissed at me leaving but he’ll get over it.”
I’m flooded with guilt. It’s one thing to drag him away from his laptop screen on a rainy night. Totally another to interrupt someone’s wedding. “Oh no! Why didn’t you tell me? I shouldn’t have called you!”
Anders’s trademark grin appears. “I’m glad you did. Besides there was some tanked Irish girl who was getting a little too handsy. Another ten minutes, she might have had me hogtied and stripped. You did me a favour.”
“No, no. You need to get back to the wedding.” I’m about to stuff him into his car when Effie emerges from her shelter, her headphones down around her neck.
“Who are you?” she asks. “Have you come to make Lucinda better?”
Immediately, Anders drops to a squat, putting himself nearly on her level. The front of his coat drags on the wet path but he disregards that and offers her his hand like a formal introduction. “I’m sorry, I’m not a car doctor. I’m Anders. I work with your mom.”
She ignores his hand. Effie's not big into physical contact, especially with strangers. “That’s an odd name,” she says. This from a girl whose class ranges from the cute Snowdrop to the appalling Kila.
Anders isn’t phased. “It’s Norwegian,” he explains.
“Are you Nor’gian?” she asks.
“No, I’m American. But my great-great-granddaddy left Norway for America a long time ago. My daddy’s called Anders and my granddaddy too.”
“My daddy’s called Mike. And my granddaddy’s called Gramps. He’s in Angola. But I don’t think I have a great-great-granddaddy.” Anders's eyebrows rise. I’m not sure if it is the information onslaught or the information itself.
“Everyone has one,” he says unhelpfully, because now I’m going to face a barrage of questions from arch-interrogator Effie.
“Maybe we can discuss genealogy some other time? When we’re not on the side of a road in the rain?”
Two heads swivel up to look at me.
“Mummy’s grumpy,” Effie explains, and Anders grins. This time I don’t admire the dimple. I’m frozen and Anders is wasting time. A shiver, which has nothing to do with desire and everything to do with my bone-deep cold, passes through me.
“Here.” He whips off his coat and wraps it around my shoulders, even as I’m holding up my own as a makeshift umbrella. “You take my car and I’ll wait for the tow truck.”
I want to protest but I know it’s the sensible option. I’m racking up a sizeable debt in favours here. And he’s enough of a businessman to capitalise on it later. But I can’t see any better choice. “Okay.”
“May I?” Anders asks permission and waits for Effie’s nod before he scoops her up.
I pick up her seat and strap it in the rear of his car.
He carefully places her in it. We swap car keys.
I return his coat and hand him the umbrella.
He’s going to need it. In about fifteen minutes, he’s going to regret his gallantry, and I intend to be long gone by then.
Clambering up into the driver’s seat, I sigh in relief to see a phone charger and plug in.
Shamelessly, I drag the seat forward and change all the settings so I can reach the pedals and use the rear-view mirror without stretching like a goose.
One quick glance at Effie shows her with her headphones back on her ears as she looks out of the window.
Then I switch off the hazards, check behind, signal and pull out onto the road.
In the rear, Effie sighs. “I think Anders is my new friend.”