‘Does this thing have an MOT?’ he asked, watching the way Libby had to slam the back door and then lean against it for a full minute before it would click shut. She shot him an annoyed look.
‘Of course it does. I wouldn’t be driving it if it weren’t taxed. It’s all surface stuff.’
‘Clearly, it is not “all surface stuff” given that it won’t actually start.’
Libby shifted her huge backpack onto her shoulder and grabbed Rosie’s hand.
‘Where’s your car then?’ she asked, ignoring his unhelpful comment.
‘I’m on the next level,’ he told her, leading them to the car-park stairs.
‘When’s it getting towed?’ he asked when they made it up to his car (Jamie had had to wrestle the backpack and car seat out of Libby’s hands so that she could carry a nearly-asleep-on-her-feet Rosie). Libby shrugged and made a non-committal sound but carried on walking. Jamie beeped the locks on his black pristine BMW estate, pulled open the back door and pushed the car seat inside. When he turned back to Libby he saw that Rosie was now fully asleep, and he held out his arms to take her. Libby hesitated but then handed her over, surprising Jamie with how heavy the dead weight of a sleeping four-year-old could be. He sat her gently in the chair, tucking Alan next to her, and then stepped back to let Libby strap her in.
Once Libby had typed her address into Jamie’s sat nav and they had driven out of the car park, she laid her head on the passenger window and closed her eyes. Some of her hair had fallen out of its confines, there were dark smudges under her eyes, and her mouth was set in a tense line.
When they eventually pulled up in front of a dilapidated block of flats a fair way out from Tooting, both the beautiful adult and child females in Jamie’s car were out for the count. Living in London was not cheap. Jamie winced when he remembered the large house his parents had bought for him and Pav to share during their student days. Sometimes he forgot what an over-privileged bastard he really was. Feeling a little creepy but unable to stop himself he just sat and watched Libby’s face relaxed in sleep as she took slow, steady breaths. After an inappropriate amount of time he cleared his throat.
‘Uh … Libby?’
She stirred in her sleep and her eyelids fluttered but quickly settled again. He leaned over the centre console to her and was engulfed by the clean smell of her shampoo.
‘Libby?’ He didn’t want to shout and risk waking up Demon Child, so he decided to give her shoulder a gentle shake. Wrong decision.
‘Get. Off.’ Libby growled, grabbing his wrist in a surprisingly strong hold and throwing his hand off her shoulder. Her eyes flew open and she instinctively pulled away from him, flattening herself against the passenger side door.
‘Hey,’ he said, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘I’m sorry. I was just trying to wake you up.’
Libby blinked and looked from Jamie to the sleeping child in the back seat. Colour swept high over her cheekbones and her shoulders relaxed. ‘God. I’m sorry. You must think I’m a lunatic.’
‘Do you … I mean is there …’ Jamie trailed off. He wanted to ask why she’d had such a violent reaction – if there was a reason behind it. Was there someone at home she was scared of?
He glanced around again at the rough neighbourhood and rubbed the back of his neck. Other memories invaded his consciousness to add to his concern. He thought back to the state of Libby’s car, and then his mind flashed to a glimpse of the sole of Libby’s shoe he’d seen the other day, with a hole right the way through to her sock. What had seemed a baffling but charming disregard for her appearance took on a rather more desperate tone. He turned to Libby who already had her hand on the door handle, ready to spring out of the car.
‘You can’t afford to have Brian towed, can you?’ To be honest Jamie was starting to be surprised that Libby could even afford Brian full stop.
‘Look, this is really none of your business,’ Libby muttered, pulling the handle, then freezing when Jamie leaned right across her to lay his hand on hers and prise her fingers away from the door.
‘How will you get in tomorrow?’ he asked.
‘That’s none of your business either,’ she whispered, her eyes now wide and her breathing shallow. He took a deep breath in of her clean scent and for a moment felt a little dizzy.
‘Will you get the tube?’ he asked, noting the station just down the road.
‘Phobia,’ Libby muttered, her breath fanning against his cheek. She shook her head as if to clear it, then spoke quickly. ‘I mean Rosie has a phobia, of the underground. It’s the reason we got that stupid car in the first place. But we can take the bus.’
‘You can’t go on the bus – it’s too far. There won’t be a direct route,’ he murmured, staring at a freckle on her upper cheek, unable to take his eyes off it.
‘Hungwy!’ Rosie’s weak, strangled cry came from the back seat, forcing Jamie out of his trance and making him realize what he was doing. Libby’s back was against the passenger door and his body was caging her in. Their faces were inches apart and his hand was still covering hers on the handle. Her pupils were dilated and her breathing was shallow.
‘Shit,’ he muttered under his breath, jerking away from her and sitting back in his seat.
‘Why you talkin’ ’bout ships again?’ Rosie asked, her swear-word-detecting, eagle ears dragging her fully back from unconsciousness.
‘Right, young lady, let’s get you out of the car. We’re home,’ Libby said, yanking the passenger door open and then slamming it shut.
‘Why’s Mummy all jerky?’ Rosie’s sleepy voice asked as they both watched Libby walk around the front of the car. Jerky was a good description: Libby’s shoulders were hunched and her body tense, making her movements seem sharp and angry.
‘Maybe she’s hungry too,’ Jamie said as the back door was yanked open.
