Page 38 of Where Do We Go From Here?
‘Fair enough, but then what?’ Jill asks. ‘Because we can’t just stay here. We’ll freeze to death. Actually, would we? Would we free?—’
‘It’s maybe not that far,’ Wendy interrupts.
‘You want to walk it?’ Jill says. ‘In this?’
‘I think it’s less than a mile. Or maybeabouta mile. But honestly not much more.’
‘But look at it,’ Jill says, nodding.
When Wendy raises her eyes to the windscreen she sees that the view is almost completely obscured by snow. ‘I know. But shall we try? If it’s awful, we can always come back and phone that number.’
‘Crazy,’ Jill says. ‘You are absolutely batshit crazy.’
‘I know,’ Wendy says. ‘But you love it. Come on. Grab your coat.’
‘If I’d known, I would have worn flats,’ Jill says, as they slip-slide their way along the road.
‘If I’d known, I would have worn skis,’ Wendy replies, mimicking Jill’s intonation.
The terror of the accident is now behind them and a hysterical adrenalin buzz is taking over, that almost makes this seem fun. Both women are already picturing how this will be a story they’ll be able to tell forever.
The moon is peeping through a gap in the clouds lighting up the stunning whiteness of it all, and now they’re walking it doesn’t even feel that cold.
‘I’m sorry I made you drink,’ Jill says, giving Wendy’s hand, which she’s holding for stability, a squeeze.
‘It’s fine,’ Wendy says. ‘We’re both alive. That’s the main thing.’
‘For now,’ Jill says. ‘Until the wolves get us. But I am feeling guilty here. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t kept plying you with drinks.’
‘Oh, I think it probably would have,’ Wendy says.
Jill assumes that Wendy means she’s not that drunk – that her drinking had nothing to do with the accident. But what Wendy is feeling is more mystical. It’s as though the accident was somehow pre-determined – their strange slide into the ditch caused by the push of an unseen hand. She has no idea why she feels this way, particularly because it’s not the kind of mumbo-jumbo she generally favours, but she thinks it all the same. That’s just how it felt in the moment: as if they were being pushed – like the accident needed to happen.
They walk for half an hour, making slow but steady progress. Both women fall over twice, once together, Jill dragging Wendy down with her in a heap of giggles, and once each on their own, more abruptly. The road surface is turning into an ice rink but they discover that by walking along the edge their heels cut through to the mud and gravel beneath, enabling them to stay upright – just about.
Eventually they reach the little parking area from where Wendy hiked up to the radar. Which means they’re still more than a mile from home. She decides not to tell Jill this.
She thinks, as they pass the parking area – now a flat expanse of virgin snow – how she’d promised herself she’d hike up there every day. Jill’s arrival put paid to that particular good intention. But how beautiful it must be up there in the snow! She wonders how difficult it would be to get up there without snow boots or whatever.
‘Car!’ Jill says suddenly, so Wendy glances back down theroad to see a pair of yellow headlights sweeping the plain behind them.
‘Oh, thank God,’ Wendy says, pulling her friend to a stop.
‘You’re not… Are we really going to flag down a serial killer?’ Jill asks, only half joking.
Wendy laughs. ‘Stop it,’ she says. ‘You’re giving me the heebie-jeebies.’
The car, advancing slowly, is almost upon them, so Wendy starts to wave.
‘If we end up chopped into steaks,’ Jill says, ‘then don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
The car rolls to a gentle halt beside them and the steamy window winds down.
‘Oh, is you!’ a familiar voice says, and Wendy thinks once again,Destiny!‘You scare me in the night like this!’
‘Our car,’ Wendy says, pointing back down the road. ‘We had an accident in the snow.’
‘It’s OK,’ the post lady says. ‘I take you. Get in!’
