‘Isn’t that lovely!’ Rodney says, beaming at our linked hands.
Addie laughs; her fingers lace more tightly through mine.
I mustn’t get ahead of myself. We have so much to talk about. But – the hint of a wish of a chance – it’s so much better than anything I’ve had for the last year and a half, and that great fissure in my chest is like a crack in dry soil, closing up at the first hint of rain.
The drive suddenly seems easy, as if the roads have heard the news – Addie and me, holding hands in the car – and agree that all should now be right in the world. It’s only when we finally take an extreme-desperation break （Deb has banned comfort breaks and will only stop driving for ‘anyone who will otherwise wet themselves’） at a tiny services near Carlisle that I recall the other crisis currently occupying Deb’s Mini.
‘Someone go with Rodney!’ Deb hisses at me and Marcus as we wander over to the service station shop. ‘Don’t leave the man alone!’
Oh, yes. Rodney the stalker. I remember.
‘Not even to piss?’ Marcus says.
‘Especially not to piss! What if he escapes through the bathroom window?’
I’m not sure quite what Marcus and I are going to do about it if he does.
‘Quite hard to have eyes-on when he’s in the bathroom, Major,’ Marcus says. His drawl is a little lacklustre today.
‘What about urinals? Isn’t that what they’re for?’
Marcus and I exchange a puzzled glance.
‘Just go! Go!’ Deb says, shoving us towards the toilets.
‘She’s really not interested in me, is she?’ Marcus says, turning to look at Deb again as she hurries off to rejoin Addie by the snacks.
‘She’d rather have sex with Kevin the trucker than with you. So I think it’s a no. And you’re only chasing her out of habit, anyway.’
Marcus kicks a stone with his toe. ‘Hmm. I preferred it when you always agreed with me. You know. Back before you got all independent-woman and friend-dumped me because your therapist told you to.’
‘No, you don’t. Back then our friendship was . . .’ I trail off.
‘Oh, I know,’ Marcus says, still looking at his feet. And then, after a long moment, he says, ‘Even before Addie. It wasn’t healthy.’
I blink in surprise. ‘Yeah. That’s true.’
He shoots me a look. ‘Don’t sound so surprised. You’re not the only one having therapy.’
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m just glad to hear you say that. And it wasn’t a friend-dumping, by the way, we weren’t ever really . . .’
‘Over?’ he says, quirking an eyebrow.
That gets a reluctant laugh out of me. ‘What can I say? I believe in second chances. Besides, you need someone who reminds you to be a human being when you’re inclined to be an arsehole. And you’re very lucky I am enough of an idiot to keep trying.’
The bathroom door swings shut behind us. Rodney is at the urinals, wide-eyed, as if we’ve caught him doing something X-rated.
‘Oh, gosh, umm, hi,’ he says, lifting one hand in a wave.
‘Presumably I’m not allowed to flush his head down the toilet?’ Marcus asks me.
‘Correct. Well done.’
Marcus sighs. ‘Reforming one’s character is very tedious. Can’t I just carry on being a dissolute reprobate?’
I smile slightly. ‘No,’ I say, looking at him carefully. The hollow cheeks, the hunched shoulders, the hunted, haunted eyes. ‘No, I don’t think you can.’
Addie
‘I told you! We need a dastardly plan!’
‘You know, we’re saying dastardly a lot, but I’m not actually sure what it means?’ I tell Deb. She’s expressing again – the battery-powered one has run out, so she’s plugged the other into a socket next to the storeroom. The two teenage boys behind the tills are staring at her like she’s escaped from the zoo. ‘Can’t we just drive off without him? Or drop him somewhere?’ I say.
‘Like in a lake?’
‘What? No! Why can I never tell whether you’re joking?’
‘It’s the deadpan delivery,’ Deb says, adjusting the poncho covering her top half. ‘Don’t blame yourself.’
‘I was thinking we could just leave him somewhere, maybe, you know, take his phone . . .’
‘I can’t believe we’re talking about this.’
I glance over towards the counter. Marcus and Dylan are trying to keep Rodney occupied while we come up with some sort of strategy. Marcus is doing a really shit job of pretending to be interested in whatever Rodney’s saying.