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Chapter Eight

The sky is full of stars, little diamonds set in metres of black velvet. It’s almost three in the morning and the cold has started to bite at the exposed bits of my flesh. Bonnie’s helped herself to items from my wardrobe; she’s wearing a long faux-fur coat and matching hat and she looks like a movie star. Jade’s on the phone to Luis, multitasking at the same time, packing cases and boxes into the back of my BMW. Her movements are smooth and athletic.

I raid the till for the unbanked day’s takings, text Amanda that I’ll be away for a few days and promise to ring her soon with the details, but please could she hold the fort. Then we lock the front door, leave a light on in the hallway and drive through empty roads to a terraced street on the other side of the park. There are no lights on anywhere: the row of little houses is all in spongy darkness, behind scratchy hedges as straight as sentries.

I slip the key in and open the front door. The three of us are in blackout, walking on our toes, hunched over in a line like the kids in Scooby Doo. I flick the kitchen light on and suggest Bonnie and Jade wait downstairs. Nanny’s not going to like being disturbed. I’m scared about waking her. What if she has a heart attack?

I creep upstairs, stand on the top step and a floorboard creaks. I hold my breath for ages, thinking what to say.

Then an old lady’s voice rasps, ‘I have a shotgun in here. And if you don’t believe me, you burgling bastard, try me. Come in here and I’ll blow your bloody head off.’

‘Nan?’ I whisper as loudly as I can. ‘Nanny, it’s me, Georgie.’

I hear the expletive under her breath. Then she calls, ‘I haven’t got my teeth in. Don’t come in yet.’ I wait, staring in the dark, then she says, ‘All right. You can come in.’

I tiptoe into her bedroom and she switches the bedside lamp on. The room floods with orange light. She sits up in bed in a duck-egg blue winceyette nightie with ruffles at the neck and blinks. Her hair’s dishevelled, tufty and tucked under the green woolly hat. I glance round the room. The old wardrobe with the silver mirror reflects our shapes back to us: a ghostlike sliver of a woman sitting up in a bed with rumpled blankets and another woman in a bulky coat, shivering. The room’s bare except for the wardrobe, a pile of old books and newspapers in the corner, and several cardboard boxes full of junk. There’s a pervasive smell of dusty old clothes and stale piss.

I take a breath. ‘You haven’t really got a shotgun, have you, Nan?’

‘Don’t be daft. You think I’m mad? What do you want here at this time of night? Your house burned down, has it?’

I move to the edge of the bed and sit down next to her, taking her hand. Her fingers are stone cold.

‘Nan, I have some news for you. I don’t want you to worry.’

She leans forwards and her lip trembles. ‘Bonnie, is it? Is she all right?’

‘She’s downstairs. With Jade. We’ve got the car outside. We have to go away.’

It takes her a while to take this in. She frowns, her face a creased map of the tropics, and her eyes glitter.

‘What about me?’

This is it, I think. Here we go. ‘You’re coming with us. To Brighton.’

‘Over my dead body, Georgina. I’m not going anywhere.’

‘I can’t take care of you here, Nan. Not now. Please, trust me on this. It’s not good for Bonnie to stay here. Adie’s done something stupid; he owes money and he’s made some enemies.’ I take a deep breath, finding the right words to coax her to leave the house she’s lived in for over sixty years. ‘We have to go, Nan. All of us. Jade’s going to Brighton to live with Luis. Bonnie needs to get away, just for a short while. We’ll all go with Jade.’ I stop there: I’m about to say ‘to keep an eye on her’, but it’s best to say nothing.

Nanny stares, her mouth a straight line, and I wonder how I’m going to persuade her. Then she eases her legs out of bed, feet encased in hairy socks, and turns to me.

‘We’d better get packing then, Georgina. I can’t do it myself, can I? I’m in my eighties. You make sure I have plenty of warm clothes. My own towel. Plenty of Guinness. And I’ll need to take my heart tablets and my arthritis tablets. And some photos – Wilf and the one of us and our Josie and Kenny at the caravan site in Wales.’

I must have my mouth open, because she says, ‘Stop staring, Georgina. Come on. You can tell me about it as we go. I hope you’ve brought some sandwiches and a flask for the journey. I like my tea sweet. And I’m not sitting in the front seat. I don’t like all those blinding headlights. They give me a headache.’ She struggles to her feet. ‘Well, I suppose it’ll be an adventure. I don’t get out much.’ She pushes me away with her hand. ‘Go on with you, then. I’m going to get dressed. I don’t want you staring at my bits and bobs. Get packing. I’m going to Brighton.’

It takes us two hours to pack to Nanny’s satisfaction. I do most of it. Nanny spends the time patting my faux-fur coat with Bonnie in it and asking Jade what Spanish men are like between the sheets and whether sex is banned the night before a football match. Jade replies with deliberately outrageous comments.

‘We have this game, Nanny, where I wave a red sheet at Luis and he puts his fingers on his head like bulls’ horns and chases me naked round the bedroom.’

Nanny believes her. Her eyebrows shoot up under her woolly hat like circumflexes.

By five o’clock, we have her strapped in the back of the car next to Bonnie. She’s still stroking the arm of the faux-fur coat like it was Blofeld’s white cat. Jade’s next to me, chatting to me to keep me alert. Bonnie looks miserable.

‘What’s the plan, Georgie?’

The idea came to me straight away, before we collected Nanny, and it seems like a good strategy for escape.

‘We’ll make sure Adie doesn’t know where we’re going. The plan is to drive north for a bit, to take money from a bank and a cashpoint in Edinburgh, so that we put him off the scent. You text him you’re going to the airport there, Bonnie. He’ll believe you because we’ll leave a trail of evidence. Adie’ll follow you north. We’ll have a rest in Edinburgh for a few hours, then join the M1, find a bed and breakfast or a hotel off the motorway, where we can sleep properly and recharge our batteries.’

‘Edinburgh? I thought we were going to Brighton?’ Jade’s eyes blaze.

‘We are going to Brighton. Via Edinburgh.’

‘That’s mad, Mum. This whole thing is ridiculous.’

I hope my daughter doesn’t wake Nanny, who’s snoring.

‘It’s just a few hours, Jade. Bonnie can’t risk Adie following us.’

‘Then what?’ Jade’s voice is sulky: she’s tired and, just as she did when she was a child, she becomes moody.

‘Then we’ll go on to Brighton. You can meet up with Luis and we’ll lose ourselves somewhere, find a place to stay for a bit until we can sort all this mess out with Adie.’

Jade tuts loudly. ‘You’re not staying with Luis and me. Couldn’t you just drop me off and go somewhere else? East Anglia? Or Cornwall. That’s a long way away.’

I decide to say nothing. She must already feel that I’m trying to be a gooseberry. And it’s true: it’s a case of two birds with one stone. Bonnie’ll be safe from Adie and I’ll check my daughter isn’t moving in with a rampant Lothario. She turns a shoulder away from me, sulking.

It’s half past five, but the traffic’s starting to build. I turn onto the motorway and glance at other cars, to see if Adie’s following us. Several heavy lorries lumber past. I blink to keep alert. The sky is tinged with pink and the light gradually lifts the darkness away.

Nanny and Bonnie nod off on each other’s shoulder and Jade keeps me awake by talking non-stop about Luis and his footballing history.

After an hour and a half we’re on the outskirts of Leeds, and I know the age and background of every member of Luis’ family, his team and all the details and permutations of the offside rule. She plies me with coffee from the flask and I drive into a dappled crimson dawn. The wheels thrum on the tarmac and the dancing red brake lamps swirl in front of me, blurring away into the distance. I yawn. Jade puts rock music on the radio and the powerful sounds of The Disturbed fizz through my brain and my focus improves. My limbs feel heavy and my ankle on the accelerator aches with stiffness.

It’s well past past eleven o’clock as we drive through the Old Town part of Edinburgh. It’s a beautiful city and I wish I was awake enough to enjoy it. I concentrate on the shuffling traffic. Jade’s in a bad mood; she’s turned away from me and she’s texting with a passion. I pull up outside an ATM, lean over to the back seat and shake Bonnie awake.

‘We’re here.’

She sighs and opens one eye. ‘Brighton?’

‘Edinburgh. Bonnie, have you got your bank card, the one from your joint account with Adie?’

She looks puzzled. ‘Yes …’

‘Right. The maximum you can take out is £300. When the bank opens, you can take another £500 over the counter.’

‘I thought you had money from the till, Georgie?’ She’s still half asleep.

‘I do. It’ll keep us going for a while. But if Adie traces the transaction, which he will, and he thinks we’re heading north, then we’ll send him the wrong way if he decides to follow us. And the £800 will be useful when we’re in Brighton.’

‘So why aren’t we going further into Scotland then?’ Bonnie frowns. ‘I’ve never been to the north of Scotland. It’s supposed to be really nice there.’

‘It’s not a holiday. We’re going to Brighton. I’ve arranged to be with Luis. I’m moving in with him. I’m not going to the north of bloody Scotland.’

Jade folds her arms and I instantly worry that I’ll lose her. We’ve been so close and I wonder what Luis must be like, to be able to lure her away, and if it’s only a glamour thing, a passing fancy. I clamp my lips together to stay silent.

‘I need breakfast. I’m hungry.’ Nan’s awake, her voice sharp and insistent.

‘Okay,’ I sigh.

I feel like a frazzled mum, trying to cope with a badly behaved group of youngsters. But this crazy situation was my idea and I focus sharply on the purpose of it, keeping my mind on the prize. I’ll be with Jade, making sure my daughter isn’t throwing her life away on some frivolous relationship, and, in the same smart move, my sister’ll be miles away from her devious, cheating husband.

I wave my hands, all smiles. ‘I’ll find us a café after Bonnie’s been to the ATM, then we’ll come back when the bank’s open. Are you all fine with that?’

By half past twelve, Nan’s finished a hearty breakfast and everyone else has pushed away food they’ve hardly touched. Jade’s in a foul mood.

We drive ten miles out of Edinburgh and I find a quiet car park and pull in. Nanny’s slurping the dregs of a chocolate milkshake through a straw. Bonnie immediately takes out her mirror and checks her make-up. Jade turns an angry face to me.

‘What are we doing?’

‘I need to sleep, Jade. I’m really tired.’

She blows air through her mouth. ‘Oh, for God’s sake. Why don’t I drive for a bit?’

‘I’m not keen on you driving, Jade. It’s a long journey and you’re not used to this car. I’d rather drive.’ The excuse sounds weak in my mouth. ‘I’ll just sleep for a few hours. I’ll be fine.’

I keep my thoughts to myself. I wish we could go north, have a fun time in Scotland, the four of us. It’d be lovely to have a break together. I consider suggesting it, but she’s already impatient to go south. Once Jade’s in Brighton, in Luis’ flat, I won’t see so much of her.

She breathes out a loud sigh and goes back to her phone. I snuggle down in the seat and close my eyes. The radio rattles and I think about switching it off. The midday news comes on and I listen, half expecting a story about Adie. It’s the usual politics and sport.

As I start to drift off, I hear Bonnie saying, ‘I wonder what Adie’s doing now.’

Nan says, ‘Good riddance.’

There’s a pause, then Bonnie sniffs. ‘Demi’ll be in Thailand. I’d like to go to Thailand.’

Jade huffs. ‘I’d like to go to Brighton.’

There’s a sniff at the back. Bonnie’s tearful. ‘Do you think I’ll ever see Adie again?’

Nanny’s voice is firm. ‘He needs sorting out, that Adrian Carrick. No man should cheat on his wife. Wilf and I were married for fifty years and some. He never looked at another woman.’ She giggles. ‘Except once.’

Bonnie cheers up. ‘What happened, Nan?’

Nan’s laughing; I can sense her rocking backwards and forwards and I know her eyes hold an evil expression.

‘We were in The Bluebell with your mam and dad. It was New Year’s Eve and I’d had a couple of port and lemons. This drunken woman kept waving mistletoe in Wilfie’s face, pursing her big red lips, trying to get him to kiss her. I was livid.’

Jade’s suddenly interested. ‘What did you do?’

‘I followed her to the toilets, got her by the scruff of her neck and told her to keep her hands off my Wilf or I’d poke her eyes out.’

Bonnie laughs. Her voice is too high.

‘Then I got Wilf home and I asked him if he fancied her. He’d been on the whisky and he said he thought she had nice legs, so without thinking, I slapped him in the face with a smelly dishcloth.’

Jade’s mouth must be hanging wide open. ‘Nanny …!’

‘He was so drunk, I thought he was going to keel over. The next day he couldn’t remember anything. He never touched the Jameson again.’

It’s quiet inside the car and warm. I breathe out and sleep for what seems like an age. Then Jade’s shaking me.

‘Mum, can we go now?’

I sit up. I’d slumped right down in the seat.

‘What time is it?’

‘Nearly six. Everybody’s been asleep.’ Jade’s face looms in front of mine. ‘We won’t make Brighton today, will we?’

Nanny wakes up and grumbles, ‘I’m hungry. And tired. What’s going on?’

I blink my eyes and realise that everyone’s staring at me. I examine the satnav.

‘Okay, how does this sound? We’ll drive to Kendal. That’s in the Lakes. We’ll find a B & B and stay overnight.’ I look at Jade and smile hopefully. ‘I’ll have us all in Brighton tomorrow.’

Bonnie murmurs, ‘I don’t mind.’

‘Is that where the mint cake comes from, Kendal? I like mint cake but it sticks to my teeth. What sort of bed and breakfast will we stay in? I can’t abide those places with nylon sheets.’

‘No one has nylon sheets nowadays, Nan.’

‘And I want proper home-cooked food, Georgina. I can’t stand food if it’s not cooked properly. I don’t like burned meat. Or soggy vegetables that taste like sponge.’

‘All right, Nan.’

Jade’s voice is low. ‘Can we just get going? I’ll have to text Luis and tell him I’ll be even later. I’ll tell him I’m a prisoner in a car with my mad mother who’s doing her best to keep me from getting to Brighton and I might not make it at all if my uncle Adie has anything to do with it.’

Bonnie interrupts, her voice defensive. ‘Adie’s got a heart of gold, Jade. If your Luis loves you as much as my Adie—’

Nanny cackles out loud. ‘Adie Carrick’s nothing more than a criminal. You’re too good for him, Bonnie, love.’

Jade nods. ‘You’re right, Nan. Everyone knows about Uncle Adie.’

Bonnie’s aghast. ‘What do they know?’

‘He’s always up to something. Sorry, Aunty Bonnie. My friends in town all laugh about it.’ Jade shrugs. ‘I’ve always stayed well away from him. He keeps bad company. I’ve heard he’s into all sorts: flipping houses, dodgy deals. I’m sure even Demi knows.’

Through the mirror I see Bonnie’s little face start to crumple. I turn on the ignition and the engine rumbles.

‘Right, let’s get us all to Kendal. We’ll stop somewhere nice. We have money.’ I smile at Jade. ‘By tomorrow, we’ll all be in Brighton. Let’s make the most of this little jaunt, shall we? A nice soft bed, early start after breakfast. It could even be fun.’

‘Not my idea of fun,’ Jade mumbles and stares out of the window.

I think about patting her arm, but I know she’d shrug me away. My heart aches with the thought that my daughter’ll be glad to move on, that we’ll part company and she’ll forget how close we were, like sisters. I drive into the darkness, my thoughts and the radio and the swerving beams of headlights buzzing in my head.

We travel in silence for two, almost three hours. It’s almost nine o’clock. The petrol gauge is running low. It occurs to me that we should hang on to Bonnie’s money and my cash and use my card to fill up the tank. If Adie is somehow able to check on me, which wouldn’t surprise me at all with some of his dodgy contacts, I’d need to be somewhere obscure, and we’re still north of Liverpool so he won’t suspect we’re going to Brighton.

I swerve off the motorway and follow a sign for Orton and Ravenstonedale, down a narrow country road. It won’t be too far. The satnav tells me I’m going the wrong way, but I ignore it. It’s only a short drive to a service station and I’ll soon be back on the motorway. My brain’s fizzing with tiredness and my arms and legs are numb from being in one position for so long. I glance through the rear-view mirror. Nan’s fallen asleep already, her head on Bonnie’s shoulder.

Jade is texting, her thumbs moving furiously. ‘What’s happening now?’

‘I’m getting petrol, Jade.’

‘What’s wrong with the motorway services?’

‘I want my card to register the name of somewhere Adie won’t have heard of.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake …’

I sigh. ‘We’ll all be in bed in an hour.’

‘Not if we spend all this time bumbling down back roads in the middle of nowhere.’

‘Jade …’

‘What?’

‘I’m sorry we couldn’t take you straight to Brighton to be with Luis. I know you must be unhappy.’

‘Unhappy?’ She puts on the tone I remember so well from when she was a teenager: sarcasm, outrage and injustice. ‘Too right I’m unhappy. And frustrated. And bored. And annoyed.’

There’s a shriek from the back of the car. It’s Bonnie’s terrified voice. My heart speeds up and so do my reactions. A car’s coming straight towards us, its lights on main beam. I’m dazzled. I swerve to the left and slam my foot on the brake. The car lurches; we bump something. When I open my eyes, the X5 is in a hedge. I turn to look at Jade, then back at Bonnie: they’re wide-eyed, shocked. Nanny’s indignant.

‘Can’t you drive more carefully, Georgina? We’re stuck in the shrubs now.’

‘It’s nothing much, just a knock. Let’s get going.’

Jade is furious. ‘What a nutter to drive so fast.’

Bonnie’s voice is a whisper. ‘Do you think it was Adie’s Boxster?’

Jade shakes her head. ‘No, it wasn’t. You couldn’t see what sort of car it was. It was just some ignorant motorist; these lanes are so narrow. They’ll be miles away by now.’

The X5 is leaning over to one side. I sit still for a moment and consider what to do, then I decide to inspect the car for any damage before I start the engine. I switch on the emergency hazard lights, grab a torch from the glovebox and ease myself out through the door, moving softly to the other side and into the darkness to check the car. The ground is soft under my feet, and damp. It’s been raining. The sky is as dark as a woollen blanket overhead; no glimmering stars.

I shine the torch on the left-hand side of the bonnet. There are scratches on the side from the branches. The front end of the car is in the hedge. If I just reverse, I’ll be able to drive out. I go round the back and squeeze forwards as far as I can. I can see the twist of the wheel, the shadow of the tyre. I crouch down, direct the beam at the huge wheel, illuminating the front tyre on the left, and follow the beam to the gravel. The tyre’s flat at the bottom, completely deflated. I stare at it for a few moments and scratch my head. The X5 has the biggest puncture I’ve ever seen.