The Summer We Ran Away

Chapter Six

‘Oh God!’ Julia sat in the passenger seat of the old yellow van, hands covering her face, her skin sticking to the fake leather in the heat. ‘That was awful. It was like being at school.’

Amber was driving. ‘Yes,’ she said, matter-of-fact.

Julia tipped her head back with a sigh. With the van’s sub-standard aircon, there was no escaping the heat.

Amber indicated to pull out onto the main road. ‘Do you want me to take you home?’

Julia thought of Charlie, angry in his man shed. ‘No.’

Amber nodded, waiting for a gap in the traffic, ‘So where do you want to go?’

‘I don’t know.’ Julia shook her head. ‘Did you read the WhatsApp?’

Amber glanced her way, pity in her kohl-rimmed eyes. ‘Yes.’

Julia covered her face again, the endless replaying images of everyone at the party, Charlie at the kitchen table and now Lexi stalking towards her by the playground. She felt her life crumbling.

‘You can come with me to France, if you want,’ Amber said, reaching over to get a packet of French Fancies from the seat next to Julia. All blasé as if it were that easy. ‘Traipse round an antique fair at five in the morning.’ Amber seemed to brighten as she thought it through further. ‘I could do with the company actually, I’m having a bloody nightmare with work.’

‘But you work for Emerald House,’ said Julia, unable to believe anything could be bad at Emerald House, where she’d heard everyone lounged at breakfast still in their dressing gowns and swam with famous people in the rooftop pool. Charlie would never be persuaded to eat breakfast in his dressing gown.

‘Yes,’ Amber agreed, musing over whether to eat a pink or yellow French Fancy, only half an eye on the traffic. ‘And they’ve just axed six months of my work in one fell swoop and now I have less than a week to fix it.’ She made her cake selection and turned to Julia, ‘Come with me, it’ll be fun. I’m only going overnight. The fair’s in the morning. And I really hate driving on my own. Billy usually comes with me but he’s in bloody Germany, isn’t he? You’d be doing me a favour.’ She was nodding, eyes wide. ‘You should definitely come,’ she said. The offer was so Amber, unthought-through, casual and off-the-cuff. She lived her life minute by minute as opposed to Julia who planned meticulously ahead. Amber went on, ‘It’ll get you away from that lot for a bit,’ she gesticulated behind them to where Lexi and co. had been, ‘And at the very least you can nose around a few French cake shops, you like that kind of thing, don’t you?’

Julia watched Amber, all messy hair and dark snakeskin clothes, half a yellow French Fancy in her mouth, now gesticulating at the traffic jam in front of them and beeping her horn in annoyance. There was no way Julia was going to France with her. For one, seeing how she drove, she’d be dead before she got to Calais. And secondly, what would they talk about? While they were friends enough to stroll back from Monday Pilates and share a freshly baked raspberry mille-feuille, she definitely wasn’t someone Julia would go on holiday with. She didn’t know her that well. And Julia had a suspicion, admittedly stoked by her parents, that there was something slightly suspect going on with Amber’s buying and selling because they didn’t think anyone could make a proper living recycling old junk. To avoid answering, Julia changed the subject instead. ‘How is Billy getting on?’ Post A-levels, Billy had just left to go interrailing round Europe with his girlfriend Pandora.

‘I have no idea. He sent me a message to say he’d arrived and then another of a really long German sausage,’ said Amber, finishing off her cake.

Julia looked at the stack of playground food that was making her tired, emotionally overwrought body go slightly weak with craving. Stoking the desire to go with Amber to France if this was what they were going to be snacking on.

‘So what do you think?’ Amber asked, turning round to face Julia as the traffic inched forward. ‘Do you want to come with me? You really would be doing me a favour. I get so bored driving on my own.’ Then when she saw the expression on Julia’s face she said, ‘Nah, you’re not keen? That’s OK.’

Julia pretended to contemplate it further. Then said, ‘I don’t think I can, Amber. I’ll just go to a Travelodge or something,’ Julia said.

Amber shrugged, ‘OK.’

Julia watched the shops on the high street disappear as they pulled out onto the big McDonald’s roundabout. Her office was just around the corner. She thought of the bags of clothes under her desk, the spare make-up bag she had in her drawer and the flip-flops she could put on instead of these bloody Supergas. ‘Amber,’ she asked. ‘Any chance you could just pull in over there so I could get some stuff from my office? I’ll only take a minute.’

Amber looked at her watch. Then she checked the traffic on Google Maps. ‘Yeah OK, the traffic gets better after the roundabout, I’ve got five minutes.’ She turned down the side road and parked in the loading bay outside Julia’s office.

Just as Julia was hopping out of the van both their phones beeped in unison.

Amber’s was in the cup-holder. Julia got hers out of her bag.

Cedar Road Group

Hamish Warrington: ‘I would like to make it clear that I have never taken part in any extra-marital activities with Julia Fletcher. I love my wife very much and my family is the most important thing in my life. Hamish.’

Julia’s eyes widened in horror as she read. ‘Oh my God!’

Amber scoffed. ‘He’s a prat.’

Julia felt sick.

Amber grinned at her. ‘See! Come with me. Fuck ’em.’

Julia shook her head, leaning against the open van door to calm her heart rate. ‘I couldn’t.’

‘You’ll regret it,’ Amber said.

Julia looked at the WhatsApp again. She thought of Charlie reading it. Momentarily, she was tempted to say yes.

Amber could sense her wavering.

‘I don’t know.’ Julia stood with her hand on her forehead. The temperature was soaring. Sweat was beading on her temple. ‘What about Charlie?’

Amber shrugged. ‘Maybe the break would do you good.’

‘No. No, I couldn’t go to France. I don’t have the money.’

‘It won’t cost you anything apart from whatever food you eat,’ Amber replied.

Julia paused then glanced up at her office. ‘I have to be at work on Tuesday.’

‘I’m only going for the weekend,’ Amber said.

‘No.’ She shook her head. It was a crazy idea and she had to sort things out with her husband. Then she looked back at Amber, now cracking open a Coke wedged between her thighs, eyes sparkling like nothing was as hard as Julia made it out to be. ‘Oh I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this. How would I come with you? Don’t I need a ticket?’

‘You just add your name to the booking, it’s easy.’ Amber rolled her eyes like all these technicalities were very boring. ‘I even have a spare passport.’

Julia looked up, confused. ‘Why do you have two passports?’

Amber shrugged and flicked open the glove compartment, ‘One’s a spare,’ she said, reaching in to get the extra passport out and hand it to Julia.

Julia frowned. ‘You can’t have a spare passport.’ She opened it up to the photo page and read the name on the duplicate. ‘This says it’s for Christine Miller. Who’s Christine Miller, Amber?’

‘No one,’ Amber replied, all nonchalant. ‘I think she’s made up. I don’t know. It’s just for when I go to some countries, it’s easier than going in under my own name. That’s all. From stuff a long time ago. Nothing really bad per se, but you know, stuff you do when you’re young.’

It was clear that Julia had no idea. That made Amber laugh. ‘Seriously, don’t look so worried. It’s no big deal. My friend at the embassy got me that one. The woman apparently is infamous for looking like everyone. Like the Mona Lisa.’

‘The Mona Lisa doesn’t look like everyone,’ said Julia, still concerned. ‘She looks at everyone.’

Amber waved a hand. ‘Oh well, you know what I mean,’ she said, checking the traffic again on Google Maps.

Julia didn’t know what she meant. Just touching the passport worried her – it would now have her fingerprints on it.

Amber looked across at her. ‘Julia, it’s fine. It’s nothing. It’s just a passport. I’m not a drug smuggler or anything.’

Julia couldn’t hide her uncertainty. Amber really laughed. ‘Oh my God, you think I’m a drug smuggler.’

‘I don’t!’ Julia replied, trying to laugh the accusation off, but it sounded like a lie.

‘Julia,’ Amber said, trying to be serious, ‘I am not a drug smuggler.’ Then she grinned, unable to keep a straight face. ‘Sorry, I’m not really laughing. I laugh when I’m put on the spot.’ Amber was really chuckling. ‘Now, please, put the passport away and go and get your stuff from your office. I’ll add your name to the booking, just in case. You can decide on the way. I need to get moving.’

Julia was more than happy to put the passport back into the glove compartment and get out of the van. It was all too surreal. She walked in a bit of a daze up the path to the big glass doors of her office. Darren, the weekend security guard, was sitting at the front desk laughing at something on YouTube. He waved her through without looking up from the screen.

The office was eerily empty. Julia headed straight to her desk, conscious of holding Amber up. She grabbed the Primark bag of white-hot clothes meant for return and a pack of reduced men’s vests that she’d bought for Charlie to wear in the winter because he got chilly at the office. She also stuffed in the flip-flops she wore if she ever had a shower at work after a lunchtime run and her spare make-up bag from her top drawer.

In the drawer was also her own passport, left there after a work trip to Munich last month. Her hand hovered over it as she thought about Amber and the trip to France.

There was no way she was going with her. Especially not after the fake passport revelation.

But then what would she do otherwise? Spend the night in a horrid hotel then go home and grovel to Charlie while hiding inside all weekend for fear of bumping into Lexi and Hamish? And she and Charlie would have to have a talk. Or maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe they would just gloss over it. She would apologise again, tell him she’d lost her mind momentarily, make him his favourite curry for dinner and relent and let them paint the bedroom the colour Charlie preferred. And by the time it came to talking, a tentative version of normality would have resumed that neither would want to break.

Nothing would change.

Julia picked up the passport. Flicking through to her serial killer photograph. No. It was ridiculous, she wasn’t going, she couldn’t just up sticks and go to France with a possible drug smuggler. Saying the drug smuggler bit again in her head made it seem ridiculous. Even if Amber seemed like the type, Julia was pretty certain her son Billy wouldn’t let her do it, and equally, she knew Amber wouldn’t do anything that put Billy at risk. She knew from the time she’d spent teaching him to cook that Amber clearly adored him.

Outside was a loud beeping. Amber was impatient. Julia picked up her plastic bag, and put the passport back in the drawer. Then she spotted the leaving card that had been bought for Meryl to wish her well on her move to Hong Kong, signed by the whole office, that Julia had hidden in her drawer when Meryl came over for a chat by her desk. Julia was meant to have taken it to the drinks on Thursday. She picked it up, wincing at her mistake. The card had been bought by the CEO’s PA, Tasmina, who loved nothing more than a motivational quote. On the front it read, ‘We only regret the chances we didn’t take!’ And inside Tasmina had scrawled, ‘Good luck on your adventure, Meryl! Whoop whoop!’ in whiteboard marker alongside everyone else’s well-wishes. Julia re-read the front cover quote, running her finger over the embossed letters. Then she propped the card up on her keyboard so she wouldn’t forget to post it when she was back in the office on Tuesday. As she did, her eye caught a picture of her and Charlie on their wedding day, pinned up on the grey cubicle wall beside her computer. Not the best shot but the one where their smiles felt real rather than posed for the photographer. She hadn’t looked at it properly for ages, it had just moved from desk to desk with her, becoming part of the furniture, unseen. She stared at it now but still couldn’t really see it, the image of her in her strapless white dress and him in his grey suit so recognisable it was impossible to discern. The only thing she could make out was that she hadn’t smiled like that in ages.

Amber beeped again.

Julia was about to step away when she turned back and got her passport out again, shoving it in her handbag just in case. Because maybe this was exactly the excitement she was craving.

Maybe she did need a break. Maybe it would be fun. Maybe she would regret it if she didn’t go.

She left the office undecided, waving goodbye to Darren, the security guard, who looked up briefly from his phone to say, ‘Enjoy your weekend’.

Julia nodded, wondering if that was possible. ‘You too.’

She ran to the van when Amber honked her horn to hurry her up, and got in, breathless.

Amber rolled her eyes. ‘You took ages!’ she said, while doing a three-point turn at speed as Julia was still doing up her seat belt.

‘Sorry!’ Then, ‘I got my passport.’ She held it up so Amber could see.

‘So you’re coming with me?’

‘Not sure,’ said Julia, still undecided.

‘Well add your details here anyway.’ Amber handed her the phone to add an extra passenger to her Eurotunnel. ‘The traffic’s got worse on the M20, we have to get moving.’ Julia did as she was told, keying in the passport details, buoyed by the possibility of excitement but secretly wondering who she was kidding. Then she put the phone away. Almost immediately it beeped with a text.

‘Check that for me, would you?’ said Amber. She reached into the cup-holder for Amber’s phone. ‘It’s from Eurotunnel: We are experiencing a high volume of traffic. Please plan to check-in on time for your booked departure.’

Amber checked her watch. ‘It’s OK, we’ve got loads of time. I’m dropping you at a Travelodge, yes?’

The traffic had cleared. Amber drove like one of those people that zooms past on the motorway and everyone tuts at the speed.

‘Can you just double-check the time of the train? That text has made me a bit nervous.’

Julia shook her head. ‘I closed the page on your phone.’

Amber rolled her eyes. ‘OK, it’s printed out.’

Julia reached into the footwell for Amber’s battered tan bag. She couldn’t believe how much stuff was in there. It was chock-a-block with crap – there were lipsticks and empty fag packets, a bulging purse, sweet wrappers, receipts, scrunched up tissues, a book, a big bunch of keys and a million different coloured lighters. Julia’s in comparison was small and neat with a pink furry pompom attached to the handle, which Lexi Warrington had given her as a birthday present when she’d been sent two accidentally.

‘Found it?’ Amber asked, speeding up to catch a green traffic light.

‘No.’ Julia shook her head. ‘I can’t find it. I’m not sure it’s here,’ she said, rummaging through various dog-eared papers.

‘It’s definitely there,’ Amber said, swiping the bag onto her lap, half an eye on the road as she flicked through bits of paper.

‘Watch out!’ Julia heard herself squawk, as a car pulled out of a side road miles ahead of them.

Amber barely glanced up, Julia regretted sounding so panicky and uncool.

‘Here!’ Amber thrust a crumpled bit of paper into Julia’s lap. ‘Can you check the time?’

Julia cast her eye over the page. ‘Your train departs at 17.36,’ she read.

‘No it doesn’t.’ Amber shook her head, indicating round a roundabout, the sun glaring as she turned.

Julia looked at the paper again. ‘It does.’

Amber reached over and snatched it from her. Her eyes scoured for the departure time while also keeping an eye out for cars. ‘Shit!’ she said when she saw the time. ‘How did I manage to mess that up?’

Julia didn’t reply but feared her body language gave the impression that she thought it was quite obvious how Amber had messed up the booking.

‘Shit.’ Amber shook her head. ‘Shit, shit, shit. Do you know how much time we have?’ she said. ‘We have minus time.’

Julia thought about travelling with Charlie, who always built in an extra hour for possible emergencies. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.

‘We just have to go a bit faster. And hope there’s no traffic. Don’t look so worried,’ Amber laughed. ‘It’s totally doable, even if the satnav doesn’t think so. You just might have to get your Travelodge in Folkestone.’ Amber grinned. ‘It’s a challenge. Fun. In a funny kind of way.’ And she started to weave the van through the traffic like an ambulance, honking at anyone who got in her way. ‘You could get a bus through there!’ she shouted at the car in front that was edging through a gap in the traffic. Then they were out on the motorway and Amber’s driving came into its own, zigzagging between lanes to maintain her speed. Julia found herself gripping onto the seat.

Amber said, ‘Can I have another French Fancy? A pink one, I didn’t really like the yellow.’

Julia was reluctant to take her eyes off the road. ‘Isn’t it illegal to undertake in England?’ she asked, trying to sound nonchalant as she opened the packet of Mr Kipling cakes. She didn’t even know they still made French Fancies.

‘Yes.’ Amber gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve been driving since I was fourteen, Julia.’

Julia nodded. She could just imagine it. She handed Amber a pink cake and took a yellow one for herself. Julia had failed her driving test first time round, causing quite a stain on her family’s first-time pass rate. Her dad and brother never let her forget it. On family journeys she was never allowed to drive, as if one failure meant she’d never passed at all.

She looked out of the window, taking a bite of the little cake. They were cruising past patchwork fields and petrol stations. Amber was bombing along at a crazy speed. Julia thought how, since the house move and the spreadsheet, she and Charlie never drove above sixty-seven miles per hour. He set the cruise control after calculating the optimum speed for efficient petrol consumption to save money.

They sped past a Travelodge and then another. There would be no stopping, Julia realised, the synthetic sweetness of the French Fancy infusing her senses. And she was beginning to realise she was secretly quite pleased.

Chapter Seven

The sun was burning through the windscreen glass. They zoomed past fields of cows, the litter-strewn hard shoulder and giant adverts for a McDonald’s and BP garage up ahead. Internally Amber was still sniggering re Julia’s drug dealer fears and feeling a bit sick from too many French Fancies. She wanted a cigarette. The satnav was not hopeful about their chances of making the Eurotunnel, which would be a disaster.

Glancing across, she was quite pleased Julia was in the van with her. There was nothing worse than driving alone. And it made up for her son, Billy, not being there, sitting bare feet up on the dash, sometimes with his guitar that he strummed terribly but Amber didn’t care because he let her sing terribly.

Julia was looking at the pile of food and drink on the passenger seat. ‘Could I have some of your water, please?’ she asked, tentatively polite.

‘Of course,’ Amber replied. ‘You don’t have to ask. Have anything you like.’

Julia picked up the bottle of Evian.

In the cup-holder, Amber’s phone rang.

Traffic was pouring onto the motorway from a joining slip road making her have to slalom through the available gaps in the traffic in order to maintain her current speed. Next to her, Julia was busy unscrewing the top off the bottle of water, so Amber reached forward and pressed answer, putting it on speakerphone.

‘Hello,’ she said, squinting against the sun streaming in overhead.

‘Hi, Mum, it’s Billy,’ her son’s soft deep voice filling the van.

‘Hey, Billy, how are you? Is everything alright? How’s Germany?’ Amber asked, immediately alert as to the fact he was ringing. Billy never rang. He WhatsApped her messages or presumed she’d see his Instagram. He most likely wanted money.

‘Yeah fine,’ he said.

Amber glanced at Julia. ‘Guess who’s in—’

‘Mum,’ Billy cut her off. ‘There’s something I have to ask you,’ he said, very seriously.

Amber frowned. Ideally she’d pull over at this point and take it off speakerphone but they had just under ten minutes to get to Folkestone. ‘Can I call you back in about half an hour, Billy?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘No, Mum, I just have to ask you a question.’

‘What is it?’ Amber asked.

‘I want to know,’ he said, quiet and serious, ‘is my dad my dad?’

Amber realised suddenly that she had been en garde for this question his entire life. Except for right now. Because it took her so much by surprise she almost crashed into an overtaking Hovis van and beside her Julia had to brace herself against the glove compartment.