Page 24 of Right Place, Right Time
‘No one knows.’ I smile as I think about Ben. ‘It’s one of the great mysteries of Clockmaker Court.’
‘You’re very lucky to work somewhere like that,’ Adam says as I close the back doors of the van and check they are secured. I look at him in case he’s being sarcastic, but he appears genuine.
‘Yes, I am lucky. They’re all really lovely people.’
I climb into the driver’s seat of the van while Adam locks up the house. Then, carrying a leather holdall, he returns from the house and hops into the passenger seat.
‘Please put your seatbelt on.’
Adam grins and does as I ask. Then we begin the short journey back to the lock-up garages where I keep my excess stock.
‘I meant what I said earlier,’ Adam says after we’ve sat quietly for the first couple of minutes of the journey, which I much prefer. I don’t like driving at the best of times and this van is so much bigger than I’m used to, so I’m happy just to concentrate on getting us there safely. ‘About you being lucky with your work – you clearly enjoy it.’
‘I do, yes. It’s not what I set out to do in life, but I’m happy how it has turned out.’
‘What did you set out to do?’ Adam asks, and then he remembers. ‘Oh, yes, you said you did a history degree at university. Did you want to be a historian?’
‘It was social history,’ I say. ‘I’m not sure what I thought I was going to do with it, really. I only knew I wanted to work with history in some way. Maybe work for English Heritage or for the National Trust. Or maybe as an advisor in TV or film – when they make period dramas, that kind of thing.’
Adam nods. ‘So what changed? How did you end up running an antiques shop?’
‘Nowthatis a very long story.’ I carefully manoeuvre the van around a mini roundabout. ‘One this journey is far too short for. How about you?’ I deftly turn the subject away from me, something I have become expert at doing over time to avoid discussing my past. ‘How did you end up on the road with bands?’
‘I told you that earlier, didn’t I?’ Adam asks, turning his head to look at me.
Luckily, I’m driving, so I don’t have to look back at him.Of course, he told me that when we were having lunch. Damn!
‘Yes, you did, sorry. I’m just trying to concentrate on driving – this van is bigger than mine. I’m not used to it.’
I hope this might quieten him, but annoyingly it doesn’t.
‘Did you really forget or were you just changing the subject away from you?’ he asks astutely, still looking at me.
‘Maybe a bit of both?’ I answer honestly, deciding I don’t have the brain power currently to think of clever answers at the same time as driving this van safely with so much stuff in the back. Stuff that I’m desperate to keep in one piece.
‘Why don’t you like talking about yourself?’
‘I didn’t realise that I didn’t.’
‘Yeah, right. You know exactly what you’re doing when you change the subject or turn a question around. Have you got secrets hidden in one of your antique wardrobes you don’t want people to find out about?’
‘Don’t be silly.’ I take a corner a bit too fast and the van tips a little to the side. Adam doesn’t know it, but he’s getting far too close to the truth and it’s unsettling me.
‘Whoa, steady!’ Adam holds on to the armrest. ‘No need for that. I’ll stop probing.’
‘I didn’t do it on purpose,’ I reply, after I’ve taken a couple of steadying breaths. ‘My little van would have taken that corner easily at this speed. I told you, I’m not used to this one.’
Adam doesn’t reply and I know what he’s thinking.
I snap at him. ‘I didn’t, all right!’
‘OK. OK.’ Adam holds on to the dashboard now. ‘I forgive you. Now please just concentrate on the road.’
The rest of the journey – thankfully only a few minutes – is silent.
I pull up in front of a line of yellow garage doors.
‘Is this it?’ Adam asks as I reverse up to number twelve.
