It was already dark when I got the lorry started and popped it into gear. Jessica was in the cab with me, a thermos of coffee and fleshly baked sweet buns in her bag.
Harry was back from the clinic, his leg in a cast. He and Renfrew, the pair of gimps, looked on from the lighted porch with wicked grins, as if hoping I would mess up.
If so, they were disappointed, because starting up a truck and riding the brakes as we rolled down a hill was pretty much idiot-proof. Helen had already trotted down to swing open the gate for us.
When we reached the paved road, I went to up shift and found that Renfrew wasn’t kidding about that clutch. It resisted like someone had wedged a rock beneath the pedal. And when it gave way, it collapsed completely, like someone giving up an arm wrestle. There was only a narrow range near the top where it actually engaged the gears.
Nevertheless, I managed to get it into second, and then third as we trundled down the main road. And I was doing it! Driving on the left. It was disorienting, making me dizzy and slightly queasy.
The engine started to whine. “Feel free to shift, any time now,” said Jessica.
I slammed down the clutch and searched for fourth gear. Jessica watched me struggle before sighing and reaching for the stick. “Here. Let me help.” She reached over and slipped the shifter into place with a firm jiggle and a shove. I engaged the clutch as smoothly as I could, my thigh trembling from the strain.
The engine revved down. “Ah, that’s better,” I said. “Maybe I’ll just stick with this speed. You’re not in any hurry are you?”
“It isn’t about me. The last train leaves for London at nine thirty.”
“Well, it’s that not that far to Cardiff, is it?”
“No, but I wouldn’t dilly-dally. You never know what we might encounter on the way.”
I sighed. After what had happened to me in Inverness, my skin crawled at the thought of visiting another urban rail station. It was probably ludicrous to expect there to be bounty hunters looking for me at every train stop in the UK, but once bitten, twice shy.
“Want to do anything, while we’re in Cardiff?” said Jessica.
“Not particularly.”
“But you’ve never been to Cardiff. I can show you around.”
“Isn’t it gonna be kind of late?”
“Not really, but….” Jess sighed. “What is it? Are you tired? If so, I can drive back. That way you can sleep. Just don’t tell Renfrew.”
“That’s alright … I just want to get this over with.”
Traffic was light, the road straight and flat, lined by scrubby trees and the flanks of barren hills, their outlines only implied by the headlights. I tried turning on the radio but it didn’t seem to work. It picked up only static, so I turned it off.
Jess kept looking over at me, agitated, as if she wanted to say something, but couldn’t summon the courage.
“James?”
“Yeah.”
“I know it’s none of our business, but Helen and I were wondering … might you be you gay?”
“Say what?”
“You don’t have to answer, we just—”
“No, it’s okay. I mean, no I’m not. Not that I know of, anyhow. What made you think I was?”
“It’s just … you’re different. For a young guy like yourself … you don’t show much interest in girls.”
“Well, that’s because … I already have a girlfriend.”
