give me time to study the map.”
He has an answer for everything. And really, now that I’ve agreed to accompany him on this mad quest, what’s to hang around for? It’s not as though I had other pressing plans. I shake my head in exasperation, knowing when I’m beat.
“All right. Ten minutes. I’ll be outside in the drop-off area. Where I stopped yesterday.” He nods his agreement, then strides away. I let him go before I make my own more uneven way to the door and head outside to the station.
Chapter Three
I feel quite guilty leaving Harry cooling his heels outside in the car while I nip up to my flat to throw some clothes into a bag. I live on the top floor of a converted terrace house in the heart of Hyde Park, Leeds’ student district. The rent’s cheap, and I quite like the buzz of activity. Plus there are always plenty of customers near at hand—many female students prefer a woman taxi driver so I cash in on that. I like to think of myself as enterprising.
As I’m collecting my gear, something occurs to me, something I should have made clear up front but I had no opportunity. Well, not really, though that conversation we almost had about kink might have done it. I pick up the pack of contraceptive pills in my bathroom cabinet then slip them into the pocket on the side of my holdall, along with my passport and the two hundred and fifty-three pounds in cash I had in my bedside drawer. I’m not sure why I feel the need for the last two items, but it just seems prudent to have them.
Harry hops from the passenger door as I make my way back along the tree-lined pavement toward my car. At this time in the middle of the morning, it’s almost impossible to find a space to park so I’ve had to make do with a disabled bay a hundred yards along the road. Not ideal, but I know I won’t be long. Harry comes toward me and reaches for my bag. Surprised, I let him take it and toss it in the boot alongside his own considerably smarter luggage. I go round to the driver’s door and clamber inside as Harry gets in next to me. I turn to him, intending to have that conversation.
“Have you hurt yourself?”
His question takes me completely by surprise. It shouldn’t have, not really. It was inevitable that he’d spot my limp sooner or later. Sooner seems more likely.
I shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. I saw you limping just then, as you came along the sidewalk.”
“The…? Oh, right. The sidewalk.” Talk about divided by a common language. “I am fine, really. I always limp.”
He looks unconvinced. “You do? How come?”
I might as well tell him. It’s not a secret exactly, it’s just that I feel a bit self-conscious discussing what happened to my leg. I know I have no choice, though, and it’s better to get it done with. “I had an accident. Eight years ago, when I was fifteen. I was hit by a car and broke my femur. That’s the long bone in the upper part of your leg.”
“I know what a femur is. Is it still painful?”
“No. It’s stiff, though, and doesn’t move as easily as the other one. My knee was shattered too, and the joint really doesn’t work that well now. My limp just looked more pronounced than it really is because of carrying the bag.” Not entirely true, but I really don’t want to make a big thing of this. Anxious to leave this subject I start the ignition and turn to face him. “So, we head north then. I’m thinking straight up the A1 to Edinburgh, then I’m relying on you and the satnav.”
He grins, seemingly satisfied with my explanation for the limping. “Go for it, honey.” I pull out into the traffic and turn my car toward the North Leeds ring road.
* * * *
“So, how far is it to Edinburgh then? A couple hundred miles?” We’re buzzing along the A1 toward Wetherby, just nicely out of Leeds when Harry asks his question. I hope he’s not going to be one of those ‘Are we nearly there yet?’ passengers.
I
Learning to Kill: Stories