“What’s done is done,” Arabella was saying to Alistair. “We’ll be there before the midnight toast.”
Rebecca winced at the sound of the raised voice on the other end of the line. Alastair was clearly not happy with that predicted timeline.
“There’s not a lot I can do now. We’re getting a ferry in a few hours and then we’ll be driving up from Dover. I think we’ll be at the house between nine and ten. It’s the best I can do, Alastair.”
Rebecca smirked at the firm tone that Arabella had used.
Clearly, she did have some backbone when talking to the man.
Arabella sighed. “They’ll have to accept me as I am, I’m afraid. I can’t exactly do my hair in the car, can I?”
Rebecca felt her jaw drop open.
She looked at Arabella and shook her head in shock before looking back at the road. She couldn’t believe the audacity of the man. He couldn’t just be satisfied that Arabella would be home in time, he had to comment on what state she would arrive in?
Not that Rebecca could ever imagine Arabella looking less than perfect. Despite the long journey, the pain in her leg, and the lack of rest, Arabella had appeared at breakfast looking stunning. Another skirt suit, hair styled, makeup applied.
Rebecca had immediately felt tiny in comparison. Until Arabella had commented that she looked well rested. The small compliment had oddly sent her heart soaring.
“Yes, I have calculated the hour time difference, I’m not a complete idiot,” Arabella argued.
Rebecca smiled. Maybe Arabella was going to be okay with Alastair after all. Maybe yesterday she was at a low ebb and now she was back to full power, ready to tell him what’s what.
“Fine, fine, I’ll do my best, but don’t expect me before nine. Please tell Daddy. Goodbye, Alastair.” Arabella angrily stabbed the end call button and let out a sigh.
Rebecca tried to relax herself back into her chair.
Since the start of the call, her body had tensed. She took a couple of deep breaths, brought her shoulders down away from her ears, and released her grip on the steering wheel a little. She couldn’t tell if it was general conflict that made her uncomfortable or the thought of Alastair himself. She’d taken an instant dislike to him based on the one phone call Arabella had previously had with him. She knew nothing of the man, other than he seemed like an old-fashioned fossil who didn’t really care about Arabella at all.
Not that any of that should matter.
It wasn’t like Arabella was anything to her. They were simply sharing a journey home, nothing more and nothing less. Travel companion, that’s what Arabella had called her. In a few hours, they would part ways and then they would probably never see nor hear from each other ever again. This was just a strange twist of fate.
She looked at the GPS screen again. Arabella had programmed in the port as their destination. That way they could see if they would, in fact, make it to the ferry.
So far, everything looked good, but Rebecca knew that one heavy batch of traffic could change everything. The thought of missing the ferry caused a cold sweat to break out. She needed to get that ferry, she needed to get home.
“Rebecca?”
She blinked, shaking herself out of her thoughts. “What?”
“You’re speeding. Quite a lot.” Arabella didn’t sound angry, just surprised.
Rebecca looked down at the speed display. She took her foot off of the accelerator and applied the brake.
“I didn’t know you had it in you,” Arabella said.
“I didn’t mean to.” Rebecca watched the speedometer like a hawk. Once it was down to the correct speed, she released a breath. Her eyes flicked up to the rear-view mirror, something had caught her eye.
“Shit,” she murmured.
“What?” Arabella asked.
Rebecca gripped the steering wheel tightly. She indicated and started to slow down and pull over. “The police are behind us.”
Arabella turned to look behind them. “Oh, for god’s sake, we don’t have time for this.”
“I know.” Rebecca indicated and started to pull over.
“The one time you decide to speed, you do it in front of a police car?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose! I didn’t even know I was speeding.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be driving!”
Rebecca pulled the car over onto the hard shoulder. Her heart was beating out of her chest. She’d never driven over the speed limit. She’d never been pulled over by police. The one time she got distracted and allowed her lead foot to drift over the speed limit, she was being flagged down. She had no idea what to do, what to say. What was about to happen.
“This is ridiculous, we don’t have time,” Arabella was saying. “I can’t believe you were foolish enough to—”
“Just stop,” Rebecca sighed. “Okay? Please? Just stop. You can scream and shout all the way to Calais, once they let us go.”
Arabella let out a long sigh and folded her arms. She turned her head to look out of the passenger window.
Rebecca took a deep breath and watched as the police officer approached the car.
Chapter Twelve
Arabella grabbed hold of her handbag, ready to get out of the car and away from Rebecca as soon as she could. The debacle with the French police had taken over forty minutes. She’d counted each minute, gradually becoming more frustrated as each ticked away.
They had laboriously wanted to check every single detail of every piece of paperwork. They’d even phoned England to see if everything was in order with Rebecca’s licence. On Christmas Eve, which had obviously taken ages.
Luckily, they had just managed to catch the ferry. After five hours of driving in complete silence. They’d stopped once for fuel and to get some food, a stop that would have made any Formula 1 pit manager proud.
Rebecca had wisely chosen to stay silent throughout the journey, clearly sensing the anger radiating from Arabella. The few times the girl had tried to say anything, Arabella simply held her hand up to silence her. Shaking her head to indicate that now was not the time.
She still couldn’t believe that the girl was idiotic enough to endanger their entire journey by speeding, right next to a police car. And then panic when questioned by the police, stuttering and making them look suspicious when she couldn’t answer basic questions. The whole thing was a delay and extra stress that they didn’t need.
The ferry staff directed them towards their bay. The very second the car had come to a stop, Arabella unclipped her seatbelt and reached for the door handle.
“Hey, where are you going?” Rebecca asked.
Arabella paused and turned to face her. “I need some time on my own. If that’s quite okay with you?”
Rebecca sighed. “Are you still angry about the police? I apologised so many times, I didn’t mean—”
Arabella opened the car door and got out. She leant against the car and reached for her crutch. Rebecca was around the car in a few moments, trying to help.
“I’m perfectly capable of doing this myself,” Arabella bit out. “What do you think I did before you came along?”
“I’m just trying to help,” Rebecca argued.
“Help by getting me home.”
“I am.”
Arabella grabbed her crutch and pivoted away from the car, slamming the door behind her. She started to walk away, keen to get some distance from Rebecca.
But Rebecca didn’t seem to understand and was following her.
“Look, I apologised. I don’t know what else you want me to do.”
Arabella spun around. “I expect you to think of someone else for a change. I need to get home, I need to be at this party. It may seem silly to you, but it’s my life. Just because you want to hurry home to eat Christmas cake with your mum, that doesn’t mean I expect you to jeopardise my journey home.”
“So, you getting home to get to your family is more important?” Rebecca stepped close. “Is that what you’re saying?”
Arabella stood tall. “Yes, I am.”
Rebecca stared at her for a long, silent moment. “Fuck you, Arabella.” She turned and walked away.
“Oh, very mature!” Arabella called after her.
She continued towards the ferry’s elevator to get away from the car deck and into some fresh air. She jabbed the button and waited. She couldn’t believe that the girl had spoken to her like that. On a crowded ferry, too.
When the lift arrived, she stepped in and quickly selected the top deck. The doors slid closed and she leaned against the wall of the tiny elevator.
Rebecca was just as childish and naive as she thought she was when she first met her. Assuming the girl had a grain of intelligence had obviously been a mistake. If she couldn’t see that her actions had the potential to jeopardise their entire trip, then Arabella didn’t know how she could explain it to her.
From the moment the police let them on their way, with a hefty fine, they had been against the clock. Unable to race along for fear of other police officers seeing them. Being stopped once was one matter, being stopped again was entirely different. They wouldn’t get off so lightly if they were stopped again. If you could call forty minutes’ inquisition light.
And so, they were forced to obey the speed limit. The whole debacle was ridiculously stressful. And why? Because Rebecca had made a stupid mistake. She was supposed to be helping Arabella get home, not sabotaging her from ever getting there. She momentarily imagined herself stuck in a French prison.
The elevator doors opened and shook her from the thought.
She walked out and looked around. To her left was a large restaurant with large forward-facing windows. To her right was a shop and a grubby-looking casino. Directly in front of her were doors leading to the deck. A woman wearing a hideous sweater with a large Christmas tree on the front stood on the deck. She looked frozen and had one hand on the Santa hat atop her head, keeping it in place despite the strong winds.
Arabella shook her head and walked into the restaurant. She stopped in the doorway. The place was crammed with people. The sound of everyone speaking, laughing, even singing, was deafening. She turned and left the restaurant again.
She eyed the door to the deck. It may be cold, but at least it was quiet.
She wrapped her coat around her and walked out onto the deck.
The cold winter air hit her immediately, but it wasn’t as unpleasant as she thought it would be. Being cooped up in a car for so many hours had given her a greater appreciation of fresh air. She walked a little until she found a set of moulded plastic seats bolted to the deck. She lowered herself into a chair and stared out at the bustling docks.
She was still angry at Rebecca for swearing at her. That had been completely uncalled for. Just because she wasn’t ready to accept an apology for the girl’s ridiculous lack of judgement didn’t mean she deserved to be shouted at.
She turned and looked in through the windows, wondering if she could spot Rebecca anywhere. Not that she cared where the girl was. She just wanted to avoid a second round of arguing. She turned a little more, squinting as she looked into the restaurant. She hoped Rebecca would have the common sense to get a proper meal, she couldn’t continue the journey on just sweets.
Arabella turned back and looked at her watch. She couldn’t believe it was Christmas Eve. She was supposed to be at home, preparing for the party. Right now, she should be reconsidering her choice of outfit. She’d soon be on her way to her hair appointment, then to get her nails done. Of course, she’d be on the phone with the event planner endlessly, fixing any last-minute issues.
She felt a pull to pick up her phone and text Alastair about some of the finer party details that she was sure he would forget. But she knew that would just invite criticism as to her absence. No, he would have to deal with it all himself. She might be on her way to being a housewife who dealt with those issues, but she wasn’t quite there yet. He’d have to manage this one alone.
She twisted herself around again, looking for Rebecca. She wondered if the girl was aware that she wasn’t allowed to be on the car deck when the ferry departed. She wouldn’t put it past her to stubbornly try to sit in the car for the hour and a half journey. She wondered if she should call her. Or ask a member of staff to check on her.
She turned back to face the dock. She didn’t know why she even cared.
Sure, Rebecca had the keys to car. But if she decided to leave without her once they were in Dover, Arabella could pay a taxi driver to take her home if needed. It wasn’t like she needed Rebecca any more.
She stood up, readjusting her crutch as she peered back into the ferry.
She didn’t need Rebecca any longer, but it would be the simpler choice to continue as they were rather than find an alternative method of transportation.
After a few moments she realised it was futile, there were too many people and she’d never be able to pick out Rebecca in the crowd. Especially if, as she suspected, the girl didn’t want to be found. She sat back down again and let out a sigh. Soon this nightmare trip would be over.
Once the ferry had started to move, the temperatures had taken a dramatic dive and the wind had increased tenfold. Arabella knew that the sea air would play havoc with her hair, and she had to be at a party in a few hours. There was only so much that dry shampoo could do.
She’d gone inside and walked around the decks, feeling relief at being able to stretch her injured leg. After a while, she’d found a quieter deck, one with mainly seating and had walked slow laps.
Before she knew it, the ferry was slowing. The white cliffs of Dover could just be seen through the forward windows, despite the setting sun.
Somehow, she had managed to walk for ninety minutes without realising it. Her thoughts had been tied up with the party, her future, and, for some reason, Rebecca.
She hated that the girl was so prominent in her thoughts. It was hard to get her out of her mind, surely the result of having spent so much time with her recently. And the result of her flip-flopping personality. One minute she was a petulant child in a car hire offer, preventing her from getting the vehicle. The next she was thoughtful, kind, and maybe even funny. The next she was cursing at her aboard a ferry.
She really didn’t know what to make of her.
After what felt like an endless wait, the ferry finally docked at Dover. The captain announced that the stairs and elevators to the lower decks were now open. A swarm of people rushed past her, desperate to be the first down the stairs. Not that it mattered. They’d all have to wait for everyone to be in their cars anyway.
Arabella hated herd mentality.
She queued for the elevator, finally getting in on the eighth journey, sandwiched between two prams of screaming children. She wondered if maybe she should’ve stayed at Faro and waited for the flights to start again. Surely that would have been better than the situation she found herself in now?
Finally, she escaped the elevator and the children. She looked around to get her bearings, still not seeing Rebecca anywhere. Her heart beat a little faster as she worried that the girl had fallen overboard or was maybe stuck in one of the ridiculously small toilets with their spring-loaded doors.
She hurried towards the rental car, looking in as she arrived. There she was. Sitting at the wheel, like nothing had happened.
Arabella opened the door and got in. She adjusted her crutch, surprised that Rebecca didn’t help as she had done all of the other times. Showing her true colours now.
“Are you going to apologise?” Arabella asked bitterly. She slammed the door shut.
“No. And I don’t think we have anything else to say to each other,” Rebecca said.
Arabella fidgeted with her seatbelt. “So, what? You expect us to sit in silence for the next two hours?”
“That sounds preferable.”
Arabella looked at the girl in surprise. She sat bolt upright, focused straight ahead. Her cheeks were flushed, and she wore her sunglasses despite it
being almost dark outside.
Has she been crying? she wondered.
“Fine,” Arabella said.
“Good,” Rebecca replied coldly.
Chapter Thirteen
True to her word, Rebecca didn’t say a word for the entire journey to Putney.
She almost spoke up as they passed the turning for Croydon. She wondered briefly if she could stop and leave Arabella to make her way home. But she’d made a deal with Arabella. As much as she wanted to be out of the car, she knew that Arabella shouldn’t be driving. Especially after sitting in one position for so long, her leg must have been in agony.
She’d never forgive herself if the older woman got into an accident on the way to Putney. So, she continued on. An hour away from Croydon. Where she wanted to be. Where she needed to be. And from Putney, she’d drop the car off and somehow make her own way back.
Arabella had been on her phone for the majority of the trip back. The incessant sound of text messages arriving had started to irritate Rebecca, but she got the impression that that was part of Arabella’s idea, to attempt to irritate Rebecca enough to speak.
She’d also become suddenly fascinated with the window controls and the car climate control system. Opening and closing windows and adjusting the temperature from hot to cold to hot again.
Seemingly anything to get something out of her. Not that Rebecca was going to fall for such childish ploys.
She just kept driving. Even though she was exhausted, even though her eyes rotated from being painfully dry to just too tired to keep open. Even though her legs were numb from sitting in the same position for so many hours. Even though she was hungry and thirsty, she kept driving. The sooner this was all over, the sooner she could get on with her life.
Arabella had reprogrammed the GPS to go directly to her home address. Rebecca continually looked at the screen, counting down the minutes. She felt sweet relief when the ETA dropped to under an hour. She felt almost euphoric when the time dropped to the single digits.
The Road Ahead Page 8
