Chapter 19
As we headed for the motorway, I tried to focus on the icy roads, but it was hard to concentrate with Theo in such proximity.
We were almost touching and I was conscious that one false move meant I’d be grabbing the man’s thigh instead of the gearstick.
To make matters worse, every time I stole a glance at Theo, I could see from the little smile on his lips that he found my discomfort amusing.
Staring at the road ahead, I questioned how sensible it had been to get into the car with him.
For all I knew that could be the smile of a serial killer who’d arranged Mum’s disappearance to get me alone.
Although if he did plan on murdering me, he’d have been better doing it while we were still at Mum’s where it was remote and without witnesses.
I told myself I was being silly. Theo looked more like a model than a murderer.
Not that that meant anything, I realised.
Cold blooded killers weren’t all knife brandishing, mask wearing lunatics.
And wasn’t there a chap in America who went straight from a prison cell to Philipp Plein’s catwalk a few years ago?
I tried to recall the inmate-turned-fashionista’s name, but it was shrouded in menopausal brain fog.
Shaved head, great jawline and the most piercing blue eyes.
Even his teardrop facial tattoo looked great.
Funny how I had no problem remembering his face.
Theo twisted in his seat, angling himself more towards me. ‘I’ve checked the ferries out,’ he said. ‘But from most of the ports, boats either aren’t running today or are full.’
‘Understandable given it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow,’ I said. ‘Although that doesn’t help us.’
‘The good news is I’ve managed to book us on the Portsmouth to Saint Malo crossing.’
‘And the bad?’ I asked, not sure if I could take anymore downturns.
‘It doesn’t sail until this evening.’
As disappointing as that was to hear, one look at the speedometer told me it was probably for the best. At the rate we were going, had our ferry been any sooner, we’d have missed it.
Even Mum, who hadn’t driven since passing her test, was probably making better ground per minute than us and she was in Dad’s thirty-year-old Volvo.
I envisaged her in Violet’s driving seat which she’d slid forward as far as it would go to ensure her feet reached the pedals.
Her back and neck were stretched upward so she could see out of the windscreen and her hands were gripped tight around the steering wheel.
She hogged the middle lane to avoid having to overtake, while her frustrated fellow road users beeped and threw hand gestures as they passed.
Not that Mum and Jackson noticed anyone’s annoyance.
Without a care in the world, they were too busy singing along to Christmas songs on the radio.
I knew it was going to be a long journey if I dwelled on every conceivable scenario Mum might encounter and I wriggled in my seat hoping if I got physically comfortable, my mind would follow suit.
‘She’ll be okay,’ Theo said. His voice cracked as if he was trying not to laugh while I wondered what was so funny about our situation. ‘Jackson will keep her safe.’
As for his words, Theo would say that; Jackson was his son. But we were talking about a boy who’d been so uncomfortable in my presence, it begged the question why? Was he up to no good and had clocked my suspicion? Or was he just shy?
I considered what Theo had previously said about Jackson having difficulties and that their move to Settledown was meant to have been a fresh start.
With Jackson and Mum gallivanting off to France together, I thought it only right we discussed what Mum could be dealing with and glancing Theo’s way again, I opened my mouth to speak.
‘Hungry?’ Theo asked before I could get my words out. He reached behind me and produced a Tupperware box. Fiddling with its lid, he revealed a stash of his home-made biscuits and nodding to the container, gestured I take one.
I narrowed my eyes, wondering if Theo had sensed what I was about to ask and offering me food was his way of silencing me. I shook my head.
‘You don’t know what you’re missing.’ Theo sniggered as he placed the box on his knees and happily tucked in, again leaving me questioning what was so funny.
The repetitive movement of his hand dipping in and out of the box made the corner of my eye twitch and the sound of his munching became increasingly annoying. My hands tightened around the wheel. ‘Do you have to do that?’
‘What?’ He took another bite.
‘Eat like an animal. Anyone would think you have a microphone attached to your chin.’
‘It’s a biscuit. They’re meant to be crunchy.’
‘Can’t you just suck it?’
Theo let out a laugh. ‘I’m sorry. Aside of that being a ridiculous request, I can’t take you seriously when you’re dressed like that.’
‘So that’s what you’ve been smirking at all this time.’ To be fair, I couldn’t blame him. I did look a treat. ‘It’s not like I had any choice. I was only meant to be at Mum’s for one night. I didn’t bring a change with me.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m being childish. Just ignore me.’
A request easier said than done considering we were centimetres apart.
Theo got back to his biscuits and the longer his food intake went on, the louder it got and it wasn’t long before I verged on fight or flight.
With neither of those an option, I scanned the car for another solution and clocking the radio, lunged forward and hit play.
Chris Rea’s ‘Driving Home For Christmas’ kicked in.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I said, turning it off again and swiping the car heater dial to full, hoped the noise from that would drown out the racket coming from Theo’s mouth.
I tentatively settled back in my seat and listened.
The only sound was the loud thrum of the fan blasting out air. ‘Finally.’
Not that I could fully relax, considering my predicament. What with work and Mum, I’d never felt so out of control.
I might not have known Jackson’s reason for absconding, but Mum was obviously trying to prove a point.
Although to be fair, when it came to her physical health, I understood why.
Mum had always had the constitution of an ox and an immune system that patrolled her body like an armed guard with a licence to kill.
As for her mental capacity, in doing a runner, she might have thought she was making a good case for herself.
However, in reality, she was proving mine.
I sighed, knowing it was probably all moot by now anyway.
As much as I loved Joyce, thanks to her propensity for gossip the whole of Settledown would be aware of Mum’s TikTok account and no doubt, that included staff and residents at Maple Manor.
And with them all following Mum and Jackson’s antics, I knew it was only a matter of time before Mum’s wish to stay in her own home was granted.
One whiff of the two of them on the run and Maple Manor would refuse to take her.
Seeing Mum as a rabble rouser, they’d be too worried she’d organise a mass revolt.
That in some ridiculous remake of The Great Escape, she’d tunnel everyone out and onto a waiting getaway coach headed for mainland Europe.
Feeling hot and bothered and with Theo’s eating, at last, over with, I turned down the heater and opened my window to let some cool air in. Thanks to Callum and Rory, when it came to my perimenopause I’d had my fill of condescending men and seeing Theo clock my action, I flashed him a look. ‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ he said.
Having expected a smart remark about arctic temperatures, his lack of a complaint surprised me. ‘That’s all right then.’
Theo smiled. ‘Are you always like this?’
‘Like what?’ I asked.
‘Angry.’
A host of red lights came on as numerous drivers ahead hit their brakes and with traffic slowing, I did the same.
Wondering what was going on, my pulse quickened and I tried not to imagine Dad’s Volvo all crumpled and folded in on itself.
I turned to Theo. ‘You don’t think this traffic jam is to do with Mum and Jackson, do you? ’