'Getaway' by Bridget Arregger

The car door is opening.

‘That was quick dear,’ I say, ‘I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. Was the bank completely empty?’

Actually that can’t be right. I am not expecting her at all. I have left my wife. It must be Harry getting into the driver’s seat. I can’t look up. I am busy trying to do up my fly. My wife, or was it Harry, conveniently left me an empty milk bottle knowing I would not last. Well, not a milk bottle, they don’t seem to make them anymore. One of those plastic things with a handle. A quart. It doesn’t say it’s a quart, they don’t make those anymore either. But I know it’s a quart. I don’t need such a big bottle but my wife says it’s easier for me to hold than the pint ones. I expect she’s right. I don’t recognise the trouser legs next to me. Harry was wearing brown cords. These are black and shiny. Peter? Emily? Emily wears black shiny clothes.

‘You must be Emily,’ I start to say. But it’s a man.

He is holding a big bag and trying to squeeze it down on the floor between his legs. I try to take it from him, plenty of room on my side.

‘Gerroff,’ he growls. He has managed to stash the bag. He is holding out his hand to me. I give him the milk bottle even though I haven’t had time to put the lid on yet.

The man is giving me back the bottle of pee. I take it and put the lid on. He is still holding out his hand. He is pointing to the ignition key slot.

‘Who are you?’ I ask.

‘Never you mind,’ he says. ‘Gimme the keys.’

Harry left me the keys, I think, so I look in my trouser cuff. Ah yes.

‘Where are we going?’ I say.

‘Never you mind,’ he says. A man of few words. I like that. A refreshing change.

We are going very fast. My wife doesn’t drive that fast. Even Harry doesn’t drive that fast.

‘Are we going for a drive in the country?’ I ask the man.

‘I need a pee,’ I say. I don’t really but I don’t like him driving so fast. I start to undo my fly. We screech to a halt.

‘Get out,’ he says.

‘I can’t,’ I say. It’s true. Harry had buckled me in with a padlock on the catch and put a special child lock thing on the front seat door. He doesn’t want me to have an accident. He’s a kind lad, Harry. Our first son, I think. Or is he a grandson?

The man is trying to undo my seat belt. He is using some very bad language. My wife would have a fit if she could hear him. I can hear police sirens. I wonder what they want.


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