Page 69 of The Flowers of Bay C
‘You lot are bloody noisy,’ Kane says.
We sing louder.
‘Will the lot of you shut up?’
Jodie turns to us, shaking her head slightly. I, too, have caught the edge in his voice, and gaze around at the others, motioning at Kane and pressing my lips together. But Barbara is away with the fairies, warbling away in a strangled soprano, hands waving round in the air.
Kane tightens his hands on the wheel.
Jodie strokes his thigh. ‘She’s okay, babe, isn’t she? I haven’t seen her so happy before. Let her be?’ Her voice is a wheedling whine as she leans into him and whispers something else into his ear. The edges of his thin lips turn up in the ghost of a smile, and he shrugs.
The tractor plods on ahead of us, spewing black smoke from its exhaust. ‘Stupid great tank,’ Kane shouts, winding his window down. ‘Get out of my way!’
The tractor driver does not take any notice and does not get out of Kane’s way. At the next slight widening of the road Kane manhandles the bus around the tractor, missing its huge tires by an inch and drawing a cloud of colourful language from the irate driver. He floors the accelerator and a few seconds later slews off down yet another unsigned country lane, boxed in by hedges flying by in blurs of evergreen and winter-starved trees bowing in the sharp November wind.
Jodie shivers.
‘Please put your jumper on,’ Kat says, plucking the discarded wolf fleece from one of the empty seats and passing it to her. ‘You’ll catch your death.’
Jodie turns her head slightly, studying Kane’s disapproving profile. ‘I’ll be okay.’
Kat touches her arm. ‘Put it on.’
Jodie shakes her head.
Barbara gets more excited by the minute, bouncing up and down in her seat, cackling away with a loud wheeze. ‘Step on it, boy!’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Kane says, veering round another bend in the road too quickly.
‘Are we nearly there yet?’ Barbara says.
‘Have some patience, woman! I’m doing my best.’
‘Are you sure this is a quicker way?’ Jodie’s face is creased with doubt as she peers out of the dusty windscreen at the narrow roadahead. It constricts into little more than a farm track in the distance, heading towards a copse of trees and what looks like a gate and a cattlegrid.
Kane turns to her and gives her a look that reminds me uncomfortably of how Marcus used to look at me when I said the wrong thing, which was most of the time. It was a look that would freeze my insides, that would stop up my mouth and keep the words from spilling over further. I would swallow them back down and then say I’m so useless, sorry. And he would say yes, you are, aren’t you, and I should think more before I speak. And I would nod firmly, up and down, and then stroke his arm and tell him that I loved him and loved that he wanted the best for me and I would keep on trying, and please forgive me Marcus and give me another chance.
Jodie looks down and shakes her head slightly, saying no more as Kane pulls up to the track, stops, scratches his chin and fiddles with the crap SatNav that wasn’t as good as him. Says nothing as he reverses too quickly all the way back up the unsigned country lane to the junction where he passed the stupid great tank and joins the country lane we were on originally. Still says nothing as we catch up with the stupid great tank and sit right up its rear end for the next few minutes, until it chugs off down another track, the driver waving out of the window and then flipping the bird in a final farewell.
It seems to be taking too long to get there, but I don’t seem to be able to worry about it, because time is different out here, it’s languid and silent, without the stress and strain of the ward. I gaze at the sky rushing by and long for more of its great open wildness.
We’re on a narrow road running parallel to the sea. There’s hardly any traffic on the road, just the odd car approaching behind us, hovering at our rear in juddering impatience and then overtaking as soon as they get the chance, Kane mutteringobscenities at each driver who dares to pass. The grey sea peeps out from beyond scrubby grassland and scraggy bushes and broken-down drystone walls to our right. There’s just the hint of a sparkle off the water, a pale reminder of long summer days in the warmth of the sunshine, where the sea shines turquoise under a cloudless sky. I close my eyes for a moment, imagining the heat, the enticing invitation of the water.
‘There!’ Jodie shouts, a moment too late as we pass the entrance to a barely visible track, a crooked sign at its mouth flashing by. ‘You’ve gone past it.’
Kane jerks the bus to a halt. ‘You weren’t looking hard enough. I’m the driver, you’re supposed to tell me when we’re there.’
‘Sorry.’
Kane grunts and throws the minibus into reverse. There’s a car coming up behind, a silver Yaris, but he ignores it and starts backtracking quickly towards the entrance to the track, the tyres squealing in protest. The car behind toots its horn but Kane takes no notice, backtracking until he’s almost touching its bumper. I turn in my seat to see the driver sitting there with her brow crinkled up, her palms raised in a question, an older woman refusing to be intimidated by this idiot. She sits there and she does not move, and Kane sits there and he does not move.
‘Just keep going and turn round somewhere else, for heaven’s sake,’ Kat says, shattering the taut heaviness. ‘It won’t take a minute.’
‘No,’ Kane says.
‘Why does she put up with that great big bully?’ Violet whispers to Amina, except her whisper is more of a loud hiss, and Kane hears it too.
He turns around and narrows his eyes at Violet, a vein pulsing in his neck. ‘You wanna drive? Is that it? You want me to go and leave you to it?’
