I stare back blankly.
‘The one furthest left,’ he says, smiling at my evident lack of knowledge. ‘So, first find the bite on that clutch; press it all the way to the floor and keep lifting until you feel the shift.’
‘What shift? What will shift?’ I ask.
‘Don’t worry, you’ll feel it.’
‘Feel what?’
‘Stop thinking, just try.’
His words are strong but careful, actions gentle and so attentive. It’s exactly how he was in the boardroom and on the stoop of the La La Lounge. I move my left foot, trying different pressures until the front of the car lifts slightly.
‘I think I’ve found it!’ I say.
‘Amazing. Do you think you can hold it there for a bit?’
I nod, my eyes fixed ahead of me as I refocus all my energy on keeping the ball of my foot exactly where it is. My calf is shaking just thinking about it, but I power through.
‘Cool, let’s see how good you are at keeping the clutch in place– go into first gear and lift the handbrake.’
He says it so steadily, like we’re playing with a little toy and not a giant metal cage that could take someone out.
I jerk the gearstick upwards and the car makes a horrible metallic crunching sound. I shriek and instinctively pull back on it sharply, which causes an even louder crunch.
‘You’ve got to put your foot down on the clutch when you change gears,’ he says with a small chuckle.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I just did!’ He leans back, smiling.
‘Yeah, great timing.’
‘Shut up and try again,’ he says.
I slam my foot down and push the gearstick. This time it slides across easily, guiding me into a false sense of security. I lift my foot. The car shudders and lurches forward before the engine cuts out entirely. Adrenaline shoots through me and I feel mycheeks flush with a strong, shameful, burning heat. This isn’t a fun little test. I could do real damage if I’m not holding the clutch correctly. This is why I should not be driving and this is exactly why Aiden’s not a qualified instructor.
‘Maddison. It’s OK,’ he says, picking up on my panic. ‘Give me your hand.’
I shouldn’t trust him, but his steadiness compels me to, so I reach out my left hand, breathing as deeply as I can. He holds it for a second and I focus on his palm, warm, strong and safe.
‘I can’t do this. I’ll just fail again.’
‘Yes, you can,’ he says immediately. ‘Maddison Clarke, you are many things, but you are not a failure.’
I turn to face him, bracing myself for the mocking look and the curl in his lip that will give away his ridicule, but instead there’s nothing but warmth.
‘Come on,’ he says gently. ‘One more try, then we’ll switch back and never speak of this again.’
‘Promise?’ my voice squeaks. It was supposed to be a joke, but it comes out as a desperate whimper. He smiles and nods emphatically, so I start the engine, and gently depress the clutch again. He guides my hand towards the gearstick with his and our fingers close around the leather, acting carefully as one as we slowly slide the stick all the way into first. He lets go, prompting a sharp intake from me at the now sole power of my hand over this machine. Before I can form a full thought, he reaches to release the handbrake.
All the air in the car shoots into my lungs and my arms lock straight as I brace myself for the inevitable disaster, but nothing comes. We stay still on our small country road, nothing moving but the rain outside our windows.
‘Impressive!’ Aiden says. ‘I didn’t master my clutch control until four, maybe five, lessons in.’
‘It’s probably a fluke. Or the fear,’ I say.
‘Give yourself some credit. You’ve done this and you’ll do more if I have anything to say about it. Now, shall we move it?’
