The Road Trip by Beth O'Leary (books for 6 year olds to read themselves .txt) 📗

as my own, to have my thigh sliding against hers, and not even be able to place my hand on her arm.

‘Fine, yeah, just the whiplash from earlier,’ she says. She turns her face away from me, examining the sun-streaked trees through the window as her fingers test at the muscles of her neck; my hands twitch with the urge to cover her fingers with mine.

‘Bacon butties!’ Marcus says, climbing out of the front passenger seat and slamming his door.

Addie opens her door and I climb out behind her; my legs are so stiff that when I stand, I make that oof sound men like my uncle Terry do when they sit down on a sofa.

‘We weren’t meant to stop for lunch until we got to Stoke-on-Trent,’ Deb grumbles, dropping into step with us.

‘You’re the one who had to fit in a quickie with a trucker,’ Marcus says over his shoulder.

There’s a couple of blokes in sweat-dampened T-shirts eating bacon sandwiches at their cars, squinting against the fierce sun, but there’s no queue, and Marcus all but runs to the van.

‘Was Marcus being judgemental there, d’you think?’ Deb asks, turning to me and Addie. ‘Do I need to bollock him?’

‘Definitely,’ Addie says, just as I say,

‘Definitely not.’

They both turn to me and, in perfect unison, raise their eyebrows.

‘Marcus doesn’t really do judgement, honestly,’ I say, spreading my hands. The twin gazes of the Gilbert sisters are somewhat terrifying, and my heart skips a little. ‘I just mean, there’s almost no life choice that Marcus would find unacceptable.’

‘I give no shits for whether he likes my life choices,’ Deb says. ‘I personally couldn’t be happier with them, trucker-quickie included. But if he has opinions on my decisions, I’d like to inform him that he should keep them to himself.’

This is one thing that does not seem to have changed about Deb. She may now be a mother – something I never thought I’d say about Deb Gilbert – but she still has that unbelievable ability to genuinely not care what other people think. I’ve never met anyone else with that skill; plenty of people who feign it, or aspire to it, but none who embody it quite like Deb.

‘I can still hear you,’ Marcus calls, having placed his order at the van. ‘And can confirm that I have absolutely no opinions about your life decisions. I myself am very partial to a quickie with a randomer.’

He walks back to us, taking a large bite from his bacon butty, as behind him Rodney places his order.

‘Bacon butty with egg, mushroom and burger sauce, please, sir!’ he says.

‘His life choices, on the other hand,’ Marcus says, pointing to Rodney, ‘those I have opinions about.’

‘What would you like?’ I say to Addie as Marcus and Deb start squabbling again.

‘Oh, I’ll get mine,’ she says quickly, reaching for the pocket of her dungarees.

This is just the sort of moment that would once have made me freeze up: any conversation about money with Addie felt like a trap, because I never handled it right. I’d insist on paying, which was wrong; I’d make a big fuss of letting her pay, also wrong; I’d say something stupid like Why does it even matter who gets this, it’s only a fiver. When Addie used to say I was weird about money, I found it infuriating, but I get it now. These days I am well acquainted with the stomach-writhing terror of a declined card, the genuine joy of finding something you want for dinner in the reduced section at the supermarket. I’ve had a friend insist on paying for me many times, now, and I know precisely what that feels like.

‘Sure,’ I say, stepping aside slightly so Addie can order first. Easy and casual is what I’m aiming for, and I think I come pretty close, or at least, as close as one can get when making a huge effort to make no effort at all.

Addie double takes before giving her order. It’s just a tiny blink-blink and a turn of the head, but I love it, I love that I’ve surprised her. See, I’ve changed! I want to shout. I’m different, I’m better, you were right, I was a tit about all those things, but look how much less of a tit I have become!

‘Bacon and egg butty, please,’ I say instead, to the woman inside the van. ‘No sauce.’

Addie

‘Dylan didn’t try to stop me paying for something just now,’ I hiss to Deb.

She’s leaning against the car, working her way through a hot dog. Deb eats at serious speed. She claims it’s all about focus, but I’m pretty sure she just doesn’t chew.

‘What, he didn’t even go all blustery and awkward and drop something first?’ Deb asks, mouth full.

I shush her, glancing at Dylan. He’s stood with Marcus and Rodney, looking painfully sexy, even while eating a bacon and egg butty, which is very hard to do attractively.

‘He was just totally normal about it.’

‘Astonishing. Do you think now he’s . . . Addie? Ads?’

There’s something in my throat.

I cough but it stays there, and it’s hard to breathe, I can feel it sitting there right in the top of my throat. Whatever it is feels enormous, like a golf ball, and my breath’s coming too fast. I’m starting to panic.

Someone hits me on the back, right between my shoulder blades. Hard. A small lump goes flying out of my mouth and I can breathe again. I double over, gasping for air. I retch and taste acid in my throat. My neck hurts again, a nasty hot pain like when you twist it the wrong way too fast.

‘All right now?’

I straighten slowly and turn. It’s Marcus. He’s looking at me properly, as if he’s actually trying to see me – so far today he’s looked at me like he’s really trying not to.

It was him who slapped me on the back. I don’t know how he got over here so fast. Dylan and