Red Skye at Night by Ashe Barker Read Free Book Online Page A

glance across at him. “Yes, about that probably.”
    “So, how long would it take to get there? Non-stop?”
    “I don’t want to drive there non-stop.”
    “No, quite so. Health and safety. But if you were?”
    I think for a moment before replying. “Four hours perhaps. Five possibly, depending on traffic. We’ll probably miss the rush hour as long as we don’t run into any hold-ups on the way.”
    “I’ve been thinking we’ll need some ground rules. About how long you drive for at one go, that sort of thing.”
    “I see.” I’m pleased he’s thinking along those lines, I have to admit I was wondering just how this would all work out. It’s a long trip with just one driver, and Harry has made it clear he doesn’t intend to do a stint behind the wheel. I’m not sure I’d want him to in any case—I don’t lend my car out, not ever, to anyone. I glance across at him. “So, what do you have in mind then?”
    “Two hours max. Agreed?”
    I nod. That sounds reasonable.
    He continues, “With a one hour break. That’s two hours on the road, and one hour off. And no more than three stints in a day.”
    “You weren’t kidding when you said you were in no hurry.” At that rate it’ll take us at least two days, possibly three to reach Orkney. And a further two days, perhaps, to get to Skye.
    “No, I wasn’t. I rarely say things I don’t mean. I want us to get there safely and enjoy the trip. So, two hours sound fair to you?”
    I have to admit it does. And I’m actually quite touched that he brought the matter up. “Yes. That sounds fine. Thanks.”
    “You’re welcome, Hope. So, next pressing problem we need to resolve. Who gets to pick the music?
    “Me. I do. It’s my car.”
    “True, but he who pays the piper…”
    “Never mind pipers, did you bring any CDs?
    “No, but I could pick something up when we stop for gas.”
    “Petrol. We stop for petrol here.”
    “Whatever. I’m thinking a little classical guitar.”
    “And I’m thinking the Kaiser Chiefs.”
    “Philistine. Where do you keep your CDs? In here?” He’s already digging around in my glove compartment, checking out the handful of CD cases there. Sure enough, he finds the Kaiser Chiefs, along with Coldplay, Nickelback and Neil Diamond’s Greatest Hits . Poor Neil is shoved unceremoniously back into the darkness but the rest seem to find a degree of favor.
    We spend the next hour or so in companionable silence as Harry takes command of the CD player. By the time we approach Scotch Corner I’m feeling pretty relaxed and starting to really enjoy myself. The scenery is sort of okay and likely to get even better once we get past Newcastle. Harry McLeod seems like decent company, and he’s certainly no hardship to look at. And for once in my life, I can be sure of paying my next electricity bill without considering selling a kidney.
    “There are services a mile ahead. Pull in there please.” Harry interrupts my self-satisfied reverie.
    “It’s not been two hours yet.”
    “That’s the maximum, not the minimum. I want coffee and the restroom.” His tone is even enough, but I get the feeling he won’t be debating this.
    “You’re the boss.” I wouldn’t mind the loo myself actually, though I would have held out till Newcastle. Still, a hit of caffeine wouldn’t go amiss. I keep an eye open for the exit and when I spot it, I signal left.
    A few minutes later, our comfort duly attended to, we’re seated at plastic tables outside an overpriced coffee shop. Harry orders black coffee. I go for a latte. I offer to pay but he is adamant. He’s picking up every tab on this trip. I know we agreed that, but I didn’t really expect to hold him to it. With some reluctance I’m thinking that now might be the time for my little announcement, the one I found myself diverted from making outside my flat when he commented on my limp.
    I stir the stripes from my coffee and lick the foam off my spoon. I glance up to find Harry staring