Page 50 of Where Do We Go From Here?
‘It sounds like you’re saying it was my fault.’
‘Oh! It was not your fault? I did not know this. Did you turn to avoid another car? Or a person? Or an animal? Because that doesn’t seem to be mentioned here in the report.’
‘No. You know full well there wasn’t anyone else involved.’
‘Oh, sorry. I misunderstood. English isn’t my first language as you can tell. So it was your fault, or it wasn’t? I am trying to understand.’
‘It was the snow’s fault.’
‘Ah. Well, perhaps you can be a little more patient, then.’
‘Patient?’
‘Yes. You rented a car. And then unfortunately, you crash this car. So perhaps you can be more patient with the people who have to sort out your mess.’
From this point the call spirals out of control, and Wendy finds herself powerless to avoid its slow slide towards the apocalypse.
She tries to keep things calm and polite – she really does – but she simply isn’t able to do so. Instead she hears her mouth saying words – rude words that she truly had no intention of saying. She feels like that girl inThe Exorcistwatching in surprise as green bile spews from her mouth. Her ‘Dutch courage’ is no doubt partly responsible.
Eventually, once Letitia has had her fill and ended the call, Wendy drops her phone onto the sofa to avoid hurling it across the room. So she does have some self-control after all. She pounds a cushion instead, while releasing a wild, animal screamof frustration.
Next, she goes to the cupboard for more wine only to discover that she’s out. She gasps at this fresh misery. How can that even be possible? She’d bought twelve bottles before Jill arrived. Twelve! She could get seriously angry with Jill if she decided to let her thoughts run that way. And she will, she reckons, at some point, let them run exactly that way. Just not right now.
Instead of wine, she lights a cigarette. Yes, she’s smoking indoors!Bugger them!she thinks.Bugger them all.
Her phone rings with a call from an unknown number, so she pulls a face and, her heart only just slowing from her argument with Letitia, she answers, but this time it’s Letitia’s boss on the line. He proceeds to scold her for being rude to his staff, which sends her blood pressure through the roof, but goes on to inform her – luckily before she starts spouting bile again – that the car will be towed in the morning.
The good weather holds, so the next day Wendy pulls on still-damp trainers and her duffle coat before heading out for a walk. She can hear Harry’s voice telling her what a good idea this is and how proud she’ll feel once she’s done it.
First, she walks the two miles down the road to the car, or rather where the car used to be, because (oh joy!) at 10 a.m. it’s already gone.
Relieved, she returns halfway home before taking the hiking trail back up to the radar. The view from beneath it this morning is stunning; the air after the rain is as clear and crisp as she has ever known.
Once she has taken the obligatory photo – blue, blue everywhere – she heads back, and then continues on past home until she reaches the bakery where she buys bread, cheese and wine,plus eggs and potatoes to make a tortilla.
When she goes to the counter to pay, the woman says something long, complex and utterly incomprehensible to her in French.
‘Je suis désolée,’she manages to reply.‘Plus lent, s’il vous plait ?’
‘Very good!’ the woman says. ‘That was almost perfect! But you must saylentement– more slowly.Plus lentmeans “more slow”.’
‘Merci. Je… veux… apprendre ?’Wendy says hesitantly.
‘Also perfect. Is good you want to learn. So what I say before is, if you need other thing, you must say, because I have many thing out back…’ She points as she says this to the rear door. ‘I know you have no car, so…’
‘Oh! You know about that?’ Wendy laughs.
‘In a small town like this, everyone knows everything,’ the woman says, smiling gently. ‘It was Thursday night, yes? In the snow?’
‘Yes. You really do know everything.’
‘Were you …?’ the woman asks, making a strange gesture by raising her circled fingers to her nose.
‘I’m sorry… Was I …?’ Wendy repeats, mimicking the gesture.
‘This means “alcohol”,’ the woman says, making the gesture again. ‘Too much alcohol.’
‘Oh, no!’ Wendy says, and she can feel she’s blushing. ‘No, I never drink and drive.’
