‘Have you been to Scotland before?’
‘Where do you come from?’
‘Do you have a house there?’
‘Why are you staying here then?’
He had some work to sort out, he said. It was easier than ‘I’m awaiting possible prosecution and a jail term of up to seven years.’
‘Do you have a wife?’
‘Not any more.’
‘Were you unfaithful?’
‘Tanzie,’ said Jess.
He blinked. Glanced into the rear-view mirror. ‘Nope.’
‘On Jeremy Kyle one person is usually unfaithful. Sometimes they have another baby and they have to do a DNA test and usually when it’s right the woman looks like she wants to hit someone. But mostly they just start crying.’
She squinted out of the window.
‘They’re a bit mad these women, mostly. Because the men have all got another baby with someone else. Or lots of girlfriends. So statistically they’re really likely to do it again. But none of the women ever seem to think about statistics.’
‘I don’t really watch Jeremy Kyle,’ he said, glancing at the satnav.
‘Nor do I. Only when I go to Nathalie’s house when Mum’s working. She records it while she’s cleaning so she can watch it in the evenings. She has forty-seven episodes on her hard drive.’
‘Tanzie. I think Mr Nicholls probably wants to concentrate.’
‘It’s fine.’
Jess was twisting a strand of her hair. She had her feet up on the seat. Ed really hated people putting their feet on seats. Even if they did take their shoes off.
‘So why did your wife leave you?’
‘Tanzie.’
‘I’m being polite. You said it was good to make polite conversation.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jess said.
‘Really. It’s fine.’ He addressed Tanzie through the rear-view mirror: ‘She thought I worked too much.’
‘They never say that on Jeremy Kyle.’
The traffic cleared, and they headed out onto the dual carriageway. Ed put his foot down. It was a beautiful day, and he was tempted to take the coast road, but he didn’t want to risk getting caught in traffic again. The dog whined, the boy played silently with a Nintendo, his head down in intense concentration, and Tanzie grew quieter. He turned the radio on – a hits channel – and for a moment or two he started to think this could be okay. It was just a day out of his life, if they didn’t hit too much traffic. And it was better than being stuck in the house.
‘The satnav reckons about eight hours if we don’t hit any jams,’ he said.
‘By motorway?’
‘Well, yeah.’ He glanced left. ‘Even a top-of-the-range Audi doesn’t have wings.’ He tried to smile, to show her he was joking, but she was still straight-faced.
‘Uh … there’s a bit of a problem.’
‘A problem.’
‘Tanzie gets sick if we go fast.’
‘What do you mean “fast”? Eighty? Ninety?’
‘Um … actually, fifty. Okay, maybe forty.’
Ed glanced into the rear-view mirror. Was it his imagination or had the child grown a little paler? She was gazing out of the window, her hand resting on the dog’s head. ‘Forty?’ He slowed. ‘You’re joking, right? You’re saying we have to drive to Scotland via B roads?’
‘No. Well, maybe. Look, it’s possible she’s grown out of it. But she doesn’t travel by car very much and we used to have big problems with it and … I just don’t want to mess up your nice car.’
Ed glanced into the rear-view mirror again. ‘We can’t take the minor roads – that’s ridiculous. It would take days to get there. Anyway, she’ll be fine. This car is brand new. It has award-winning suspension. Nobody gets sick in it.’
She looked straight ahead. ‘You don’t have kids, do you?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘No reason.’
It took twenty-five minutes to disinfect and shampoo the back seat, and even then every time he put his head inside the interior Ed got a faint whiff of vomit. Jess borrowed a bucket from a petrol station and used shampoo that she had packed in one of the kids’ bags. Nicky sat on the verge beside the garage, hiding behind a pair of oversized shades, and Tanzie sat with the dog, holding a balled tissue to her mouth, like a consumptive.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Jess kept saying, her sleeves rolled up, her face set in a grim line of concentration.
‘It’s fine. You’re the one cleaning it.’
‘I’ll pay for you to get your car valeted afterwards.’
He raised an eyebrow at her. He was laying a plastic bin bag over the seat so that the kids wouldn’t get damp when they sat down again.
‘Well, okay, I’ll do it. It will smell better, whatever.’
Some time later they climbed back into the car. Nobody remarked on the smell. He ensured his window was as low as it could go, and began reprogramming the satnav.
‘So,’ he said. ‘Scotland it is. Via B roads.’ He pressed the ‘destination’ button. ‘Glasgow or Edinburgh?’
‘Aberdeen.’
He looked at Jess.
‘Aberdeen. Of course.’ He looked behind him, trying not to let the despair seep into his voice. ‘Everyone happy? Water? Plastic bag on seat? Sick bags in place? Good. Let’s go.’