Page 9 of One More Day
I slow way, way down to see a lady holding a huge yellow umbrella in one hand as she peers into the engine, one high-heeled boot behind her pointing in the air, the other performing a very impressive balancing act.
I should stop. It’s too dangerous on these narrow roads to pull over, but there’s no way I can pretend I didn’t see it and drive on.
And that’s when I hear a familiar voice from the past in my head.
Keep driving, Charlie, for goodness’ sake. You don’t always have to be the Good Samaritan for everyone. Mr Good Looking,Mr Always Charming, Mr Can’t Mind His Own Business. No wonder we’re always running late. It’s not your business.
And so I do what I always used to do.
I ignore it.
I indicate left and slowly pull in behind the parked car. I grab a raincoat from the backseat and drape it over my head. I lock the doors, just to make sure Max can’t escape on to the winding road, then jog in the pouring rain to the other car.
You can’t fix everything and everyone, Charlie. Focus on what matters most for once in your life instead of trying to change the world.
‘Can I help?’ I call out through the pelting rain as I hold the coat above my head for shelter, but the person doesn’t hear me at first. ‘Hello?’
She turns towards me, slightly flustered but with a look of sheer determination on her face, which is smeared with oil on both cheeks – a stark contrast to her red lipstick, puffed out green dress and blue mackintosh. Her look, all big hair and vintage statements, would be better suited at a fancy party, not stuck on a roadside in rainy Donegal.
‘Not a good day for car trouble,’ I say, feeling stupid as soon as the words come out.
‘There’s never a good day for car trouble,’ she says, screwing the oil cap tight with one hand and balancing the huge golf umbrella in the other. ‘I think the alternator is on the way out, but it’s just as well I stopped as it needed an oil top-up too. Not exactly what I bargained for on my way to—’
‘Sorry?’ I call out through the rain, unable to catch the end of her sentence.
‘Nothing,’ she replies, louder this time, and as if she’s already said too much. I can see the tip of the famous lighthouse in the distance. I’ve only been here a handful of times, but that sight never fails to light me up inside.
The woman looks me in the eye for the first time. She blinks back stray raindrops that fall from her eyelashes onto what can only be described as a beautiful face. Aside from her cheeks being streaked with oil, she looks pristine for someone who has been caught off-guard in such a downpour. She’s like a burst of rainbow colour on a grey day, but at the same time she has a confident glare that could easily cut you in two.
‘A blessing in disguise, then,’ I say, feeling a bit foolish now.
‘Sorry?’
‘The car trouble.’ I shuffle, my boots squelching in the puddles. ‘Hardly ideal and quite dangerous in this weather.’
She looks at me like I’ve just sprouted horns.
‘Anyhow, you’ve got it all under control,’ I say quickly, wishing for once I’d listened to the voice in my head to keep going and mind my own business.
‘I sure do,’ she tells me as she whacks down the bonnet and puts a hand on her hip to make her point, no doubt staining her expensive-looking coat as she does so. ‘You thought I needed help to fix a car because I’m a woman, didn’t you? Was it the lipstick or the heeled boots?’
She laughs but it’s more in mockery than in humour. I stutter a response. My too-long hair is now sticking to myface and my cheeks burn in a way they haven’t done since I was a schoolboy.
‘Gosh, no,’ I eventually manage, pulling the hood of my navy raincoat over my head. I may not have oil on my face or clothes but I’m sure I’m a sodding mess by now in my old jeans and grey T-shirt. I see her glance at the tattoo sleeve on my left arm, tilting her head to the side as she does so. ‘I didn’t think that for a second. I only stopped to see if—’
‘Well, thank you, but I’ve got it all sorted,’ she tells me, wiping her hands on a tissue while balancing the yellow umbrella on her right shoulder. ‘OK, I’d better get going. I’ve got somewhere to be.’
‘Have a nice time wherever you’re off to.’
I told you so, I hear the voice from Christmas past say.How embarrassing. When will you learn? You can’t save everyone, Charlie. Save it for the day job, for goodness’ sake.
I pull out from the roadside, glancing back at the woman as she gets herself together in her own car. Then I venture on towards the lighthouse and the nearby village where I hope to find a fortnight of solitude and silence.
I need this even more than I realised.
When my friend Niall told me this hideaway cottage in Donegal was secluded, he certainly wasn’t joking.
I’m doing my best to follow the sat nav, which no doubt has taken me on an ‘extra scenic’ route, but I certainly didn’t expect it to be quite so remote.
