First Aid (16 page)

She reached the fast road. Although it was around three in the morning there was still some traffic – cars and container lorries that rattled past. She kept close to the side.

A car slowed down and pulled in about twenty metres ahead of her. She approached the red tail-lights intending to walk past. She heard the doors' central locking click open. The driver turned his head but he didn't lean over. The window was electric and had already slid down.

‘Where are you heading for?' he said.

His voice was matter of fact and he didn't smile. If he'd leant over or smiled she would have run away. She guessed he was about forty. Not young, anyway.

‘I'm going to France,' he said. ‘Catching the first ferry of the day from Dover.'

‘All right,' she said. ‘Dover's fine.'

She watched him lean across and move a pile of documents from the passenger seat to the back. He didn't switch the engine off. It was still ticking over. He opened the door and she got in. He indicated before he pulled away, and checked his mirror, though there were no other cars on the road. Their seats were quite far apart with a wide carpety island between them. The car smelled of clothes that have come back from the dry cleaners. Cleanish, but mixed up with other people's lives. Out of the corner of her right eye she could see a white shirt with a jacket over it, hanging behind the driving seat.

‘Better put your seat belt on,' he said.

They were moving already and gaining speed. She couldn't change her mind. Direction signs appeared ahead. Signs on stilts that were easy to read as you rushed towards them, but which she would have had to walk underneath, had she still been walking. She fastened the belt. He wasn't talkative and he didn't play music. But eventually he spoke.

‘I'm going to a wedding way down in the middle of France. Friend of mine is marrying a girl from St Etienne. Her first marriage, his second. The triumph of hope over experience. It's a hell of a drive. But why not?'

Ella was shocked to be spoken to and surprised by the pattern his voice made. She had nothing to say. She had never heard of the place he'd mentioned.

‘You've probably been a bridesmaid?' he said.

‘No.'

‘Shame. You'd enjoy it. A chance to dress up in frilly clothes instead of the regulation jeans and T-shirt. Bit of make-up and you'd be away. If you take a look behind you, you'll see the present. On the back seat.'

Ella stared at the dashboard that glimmered with luminous green data and wondered what the time was.

‘Go on. Have a look,' he said.

She turned and glanced briefly at a chunky gold parcel topped with a matching rosette. It looked like one of the fake Christmas gifts they put under the tree in the local garage.

‘Guess what it is?'

She shook her head.

‘Three guesses. Go on.'

She said nothing.

‘I'll give you a clue. It weighs a ton.'

She tried now, because she wanted him to be quiet, but she couldn't think of a single object that would fit in a box that size – or any size. Heavy or light. It was as if she existed in a universe with nothing in it.

‘Think kitchen.'

She was silent.

‘Cookery programmes on the TV. Go on. What have those grinning idiots always got?'

She shook her head and wound the bottom of her T-shirt into a ball.

‘I'll shut up,' he said.

They drove on.

‘There's a roundabout coming up. It would be no trouble for me to go round it and back the way we came,' the man said. ‘I'd take you home.'

‘No, it's all right,' Ella said.

‘Where was it in Dover you wanted to go?' he said. ‘I'm going to the ferry terminal but I'll drop you wherever you like.'

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

‘There will be fine,' she said.

‘Where?'

‘Where you said. The ferry terminal.'

‘We turn off soon,' he said. ‘To the Eastern Docks. Sure that's what you want?'

She nodded. She had no idea where she was going. She thought she might leave England though she couldn't see beyond the journey. She had gone with her French class on a day trip to Calais. The cross-Channel ferry had been a world of its own, like a fun fair with bars and shops. Apart from the safety regulations there weren't any rules. Everyone seemed to do as they pleased and when they got bored with one part of the boat they moved on to another. Even in an hour and a half she had come to recognise the same people. She had passed them on the stairs.

‘You don't have much luggage,' the man said.

‘My mum's got it,' she said.

‘Where is she?'

‘With my gran and grandad.'

‘How about your dad?'

‘He's in Dover already.'

The man nodded, as if working things out. Perhaps he had enough to go on to make a kind of story. A holiday where everyone made their own travel arrangements and somehow met up – like the stable at Bethlehem. You didn't have to tell people much for them to go off following some trail.

‘I've got a daughter, I mentioned her, didn't I?' he said. ‘A bit younger than you. How old are you?'

Ella hesitated.

‘You don't have to tell me,' he said.

The roundabout was at the bottom of the hill. He drove round it and stopped at the traffic lights on one of the exit roads.

‘We're nearly there,' he said. ‘I've got a suggestion. I drive on to the dock and park up. Then we call your mum or dad on my mobile and tell them you're safe. There's a café there. We can have a cup of something while we're waiting.'

‘No,' she said.

‘No to which bit?' he said.

‘Just drop me,' she said. ‘I'll be fine.'

‘Where?' he said.

‘At that café. The one you said. We're all meeting up there.' She glanced at the clock. She still couldn't make it out. ‘At five o'clock. I'm a bit early. But they'll turn up. They're really reliable.'

‘I thought you said your dad would be waiting for you.'

‘He is. The others I meant.'

He nodded but she could tell that he was doubtful. Her idea of mingling with the crowd on the ferry, making new friends, evaporated under his questioning. He wasn't even asking her anything personal.

‘I'm not supposed to take lifts,' she said. ‘It's best if my dad doesn't find out.'

He winked at her.

They drove on to the dock. An expanse of tarmac lay ahead, divided by painted lines that were nearly invisible in the darkness. At the far end were cars standing in rows and, beyond, the pale bulk of a boat. The café was to one side – isolated and no more than a brightly lit shack. Ella undid her seat belt.

‘Drop me here, please,' she said. ‘I'll walk across.'

‘No,' her companion said. ‘I'll see you right.'

He swerved in a half circle and stopped abruptly by the café with a screech of brakes.

‘Thanks for the lift,' she said.

He nodded and started to scrabble round in the glove compartment.

She opened the car door and got out.

‘Bye,' she said, into the night air.

She didn't turn round again. She hoped he would drive away and join one of the queues but the car wasn't moving. She only had a few steps to go to the café. In that time she heard the engine switch off. She walked straight through the open door of the café.

‘El.'

She knew whose voice it was. She glanced round. Cans of Fanta were stacked in a pyramid on the counter and behind them a woman with her hair tied up in a scarf was reading a magazine. Beige-coloured water trickled from the tea and coffee dispenser. There was only one customer. He had an empty plastic cup and an empty bottle of beer in front of him. The table he was sitting at was red with a chipped metal edge. Ella couldn't leave the café. The man in the car was waiting for her. She and Felpo looked at one another. She saw surprise in his eyes but it didn't spread to the rest of his face.

‘Where's Jo?' Felpo said after a few moments. The question was without urgency, as if he'd come back from work and wondered which room Jo was in. He bent slightly, as if trying to see out of the window.

‘She's in London,' Ella said.

She sat down opposite him.

‘Oh,' Felpo said. ‘I thought for a moment she was with you. Stupid. She wasn't at home when I went back. I kept putting it off – going back. I cleared up and packed my stuff in the van.' He hesitated. ‘But you say she's in London.'

‘Yes,' said Ella. ‘She went with Rob and Annie.'

‘Did she say how long she'd be there?' he said.

‘No.'

‘Did she say anything?'

Ella was silent. Felpo was far off in thought and gazing past her.

‘You weren't in the shop then?' she said.

‘When?'

‘Tonight.'

He shook his head and seemed puzzled.

‘What would I go there for?' he said.

‘I don't know,' she said.

‘What are you doing here anyway?' Felpo said. ‘At this time of night.' He spoke the last sentence as if it were the punch line of a joke but she wasn't annoyed.

‘I didn't want to go with them,' she said.

‘But why here?' he said.

‘Something to do,' she said.

He smiled but he didn't comment. He never fussed about their safety.

Ella looked at him. He had had that same expression when he came to the shop for the first time – blank but sort of exposed. He seemed to read her mind.

‘You never liked me, did you?' he said. ‘I kept hoping you'd change your mind.'

She recoiled inside and shifted her eyes away. She didn't want to have to think about whether she liked him or not.

‘It's all right,' he said. ‘You don't have to answer.'

She could sense his stillness and it unsettled her. It was always there, underneath his liveliness. It never went away. She concentrated on what he'd just said – what he had actually said – isolated from her reaction. She examined it and found it neutral, like the expression on his face. She'd hated him but she had exaggerated. Her thoughts about him had got out and stuck to him, layer on layer. That used to happen to unlucky kids at school, who attracted rejection because of some puny difference: the wrong kind of coat, freckly hands. Once the rejection had got a hold it was added to and added to, until the person inside was invisible, a thing.

‘What did you say to me on Friday morning?' she asked suddenly.

‘I thought you did most of the talking,' he said.

‘About seeing me with Trevor,' she said.

‘That was it, wasn't it?' he said.

‘You said,' Ella stopped. She remembered, but she couldn't say the words out loud. It was embarrassing to be able to repeat exactly what he said to her. Talk should fly away. She couldn't stand people who stored up things you said and handed them back to you.

‘Go on,' he said.

She was silent. When she thought what boys said to her on the street, what they shouted out of car windows. She never cared. They could say what they liked.

She had met him on her way to the beach. He'd parked his van and was heading down to the boats. She hadn't wanted to talk to him, but she hadn't been able to avoid him. He asked her if she'd had a good evening. Nice down on the dunes, he said. He kept pace with her. They were going in the same direction. She started to cross the road but a car came past and he caught her elbow and pulled her back. She immediately straightened her arm so that his hand was left suspended. She asked him what he was on about. You were with Trevor. I thought it was you, anyway, he said. He's a bit of a mystery man, isn't he? The words had enraged her. What were you doing down there, she said. He told her he had been in the van, on the road before the low bridge. I pulled in, he said.
Pulled in.
She had fitted him into the picture then, sitting in the van, leaning back, very still, watching her, making up stupid stories about her. She wished a car had come over the bridge too fast and hit him or that a tree had fallen on top of him. You're weird, she said. He smiled, as if he had some secret information. Don't worry, he said. I wasn't that close. Really.

‘I probably did say something annoying. I often do. I don't know when to stop,' he said.

She looked down at the table, at the biscuit crumbs lodged in the crack where the metal edge had come away.

‘Who's that?' Felpo said suddenly, in a different voice.

‘Who?'

‘That bloke out there. He's looking at us.'

Ella turned round. The man who'd given her the lift was peering in. He gave a kind of wave and raised both eyebrows.

‘Do you know him?' Felpo said.

‘No. He was hanging around outside when I came in,' she said.

‘Shall I tell him to piss off?' he said.

‘No. He'll go away now he's seen you.'

Felpo stood up and made a face.

‘He has done too,' he said. ‘He's getting into his car. I must be scarier than I thought.' He laughed.

She heard the car drive away. The tannoy system began to crackle, then came to life with a voice that advised passengers to rejoin their vehicles.

‘That's me, then. They're starting to load,' Felpo said. ‘Will you be all right, El?'

She nodded.

Felpo stood up.

‘Wait,' Ella said. ‘I need to tell you something.'

‘Well?' he said.

He didn't sound interested. He picked up the empty bottle and threw it so that it landed in the bin. Then he picked up the cup.

She and Felpo had been standing on the pavement in the sunshine. She remembered the adverts for price cuts in the window of the Co-op and the hanging baskets of red busy Lizzies waving from the house with the green trellis. A man had gone by on a bike. Everything had suddenly been in the sharpest of colours – clearer than life. She had said, Jo and Trevor were probably looking for a quiet place to have a shag. The words had come ready-made in her mouth as if someone else had put them there – quick as a sneeze – and yet they bore the imprint of her personality. They were her. They were as familiar as the shape of her hands. She couldn't disown them.