Simon lets out a sigh of relief. “Just hope they didn’t get my number,” he says.
As they sit there in the car, Sarah looks at him directly. “You lied to me, about that train.” He starts to squirm. Her tone is serious. “Why?” she asks. He looks uncomfortable, and struggles to answer her. Simon keeps his eyes straight ahead, not meeting hers.
“I suppose that hotel of yours has some ‘cosy double rooms’.” She emphasises the word double.” He looks slightly hurt.
“No, it wasn’t like that.” His tone is apologetic. “I… I liked your company… it was a long way to drive and I… I didn’t want to lose you.” He sounds convincing. She hadn’t expected this response. His softness and sincerity. Now she looks away. Sarah lights up a cigarette and takes a deep drag.
“You were talking about your uncle,” he prompts her.
“Was I?”
“Yeah.”
Sarah’s face becomes melancholy, and distant, as her memory flashes back to her youth.
“You said that, after your parents died, you went to live with him at Strickham.”
In her flash-back Sarah sees herself, as a young woman, dismounting a full-sized horse, in the yard, while being greeted by her uncle, a tall man, with straight black hair, who looks to be in his late forties. She smiles brightly at him. He gently smiles back at her, protectively, perhaps even possessively.
As the young Sarah leads the horse into the stables, in her memory, the friendly-look from her uncle turns to more of a mean and predatory one, now that she has her back to him.
“I know this will sound crazy,” she says to Simon, with her mind back in the car, “but I suddenly had this yearning to visit Strickham, just to see where I used to live.” He gently smiles at her, supportively.
“How’s the time?” she asks.
“Oh, it must be about 2.30,” he replies.
“Don’t you have a watch?”
His eyebrows raise. “It’s at the menders,” he says. “I must remember to pick it up.” He speaks, in a hammy sort of way, as if he doesn’t really believe his own story.
Later…
Simon and Sarah are driving along on the main road again. The weather is now drier and brighter. Sarah leans slightly towards him, showing an interest.
“Where do you live?” she casually asks.
“Birmingham,” he replies, flatly. “Got a room there.” She drags from her cigarette. “Not that I’m hardly ever there. Stay in hotels mostly,” he says.
Her face is curious. “Are you a traveller?”
He pauses, just for a second, and then answers, “Yes.”
“Can’t be much of a life?”
“I’ve no complaints, I mean, everyone you meet’s got some sort of problem, haven’t they?”
“Oh, what’s yours?” she asks.
Simon’s thoughts start to drift to a memory of a trendy party in his past. He is with an attractive, and slim, girl. They have ‘hooked up’ and decided to head for a bedroom. The girl looks classy and vivacious.
“We’ll be alright in here,” the floozie says to the younger Simon, putting her arms around his shoulder and kissing him, passionately. He still has a drink in his hand, as they tightly embrace. “Lock, the door, just in case,” she tells him. He dutifully obliges. The girl is not lacking in confidence. She pulls the zip down on her skirt, with urgency. It drops to the floor. Simon is taken aback by her precociousness. He grasps her waist and they fall onto the bed. She kicks her heels off. “No, keep those on,” he says.
Simon then abruptly comes back to present-day reality. He is aware of the sound of Sarah’s voice.
“You need some petrol.” she says.
“Hmmm?”
“I said, you need some petrol. We’re almost out,” Sarah informs him, in a serious tone. Sure enough, the gauge shows the petrol tank to be near empty. Simon ‘tuts’ a bit, as if it is not his fault.
Soon they are entering a filling station. Simon parks in front of the pumps and cranks the handbrake on. He looks at her, as if to say: is this ok for you?
The petrol station is deserted, with no sign of anyone around. There are only three pumps, but the station, itself, has quite a few separate buildings around its forecourt. Simon, impatiently, sounds the horn to gain attention. He taps on the steering-wheel with his fingers, waiting for a response.
