Holiday (IP)

“I can’t believe you. I just cannot believe you.”

Sheila glanced across at Gerald, lounging in the passenger seat.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, you can’t believe me, I heard you.” Gerald waved a hand dismissively.

Sheila’s hands tightened on the wheel. “I am really, really cross, Gerry. I can’t believe you could behave like that.”

“What did I do?” His voice rose in indignation.

“What did you do? Do I really have to tell you?”

“Tell me, tell me.” He turned sideways and closed his eyes.

“Don’t go to sleep on me. You know very well what you did. You got drunk.”

Gerald gave a derisive snort.

“You got drunk after you said that you would drive us back to the hotel so I could drink.”

Gerald pulled his coat more closely about himself and said nothing.

“They’re my friends, Gerald, you showed me up in front of my friends. I haven’t seen them for fifteen years and you act like that. You didn’t even want to go. ‘Be too bloody dull. Why do I have to take time out of my holiday to see them?’ you said. Bloody perked up when you got there though didn’t you? And I wonder why, eh? I wonder why.”

“I don’t know,” Gerald hiccupped, “what you are talking about. You are ranting, like, like, like… a lunatic.”

Sheila pursed her lips together and pushed her foot down on the accelerator. Trees flashed by in the full beam of the headlights.

“Okay, I’m a lunatic. Fine. Well, this lunatic has just spent the evening watching her husband leering and ogling her oldest friend’s teenage daughter. Don’t try to deny it. You were staring down her top all night.”

Gerald smiled to himself and gave a contented smile. “How could such a beauty,” he mused, “have sprung from the loins of someone so…” he searched in vain for the word and trailed off.

“You’re a disgrace, Gerry. It’s pathetic watching an old letch trying it on with a girl like that. You’re old enough to be her grandfather.”

“Hey steady on, Sheel, I’m not that old.”

“Hah. That woke you up.”

“Why are you in such a bad mood? We’re supposed to be on holiday, having fun.”

“Fun? Is that what we’re having? I don’t feel like I’m on holiday, I’ve still got to put up with your selfishness, your insensitiveness, your laziness. I’m sick of it, sick of putting up with it, sick of nagging you to do things. Like the life insurance. How long did it take you to sort that out? How many times did I have to ask you?”

“Alright, Jesus. I’ve done it now, haven’t I? So you can stop banging on about it.”

“That’s how you see me, isn’t it? Just a stupid old nag.”

“Here, you’re going a bit fast aren’t you? Slow down a bit, love.”

“You left me to drive, let me do it.”

Gerald leaned over and peered at the speedometer. “You’re doing almost seventy. You need to slow down.”

Sheila accelerated into the bend, the wheel turned all the way over to the right. They both felt the car lean alarmingly. Sheila slammed on the brakes and the car slewed round. Gerald was shouting, the car was spinning, then a massive jolt, the airbags inflated and they found themselves staring up at the night sky, the tops of the trees illuminated by the car’s headlights.

Gerald spoke first. “Jesus. Are you okay?”

Sheila sat, her eyes wide. She opened her mouth to speak and laughter spilled out, tears began rolling down her cheeks.

“Brilliant, she’s gone hysterical,” Gerald muttered. He pushed the door open and heaved himself out, stumbling onto the grass. He picked himself up and stood back to inspect the damage.

The car sat at an angle, back end in a ditch, front wheels suspended above the road. Gerald shook his head. Did they get insurance from the hire place? He couldn’t remember. He walked round to the driver’s side. Sheila sat smiling through the windscreen.

“Sheel. Sheila. Hey, Sheila,” he clicked his fingers in her face. She turned and looked at him, the smile fixed on her face. “Try the accelerator, would you.”

She stared at him for a moment, then put the car in gear and put her foot down. The engine roared, the front wheels spinning uselessly, three feet above the road.

“Bloody front-wheel drive, should have got a Range Rover. Alright, you can cut it now,” he shouted, making slashing motions across his neck. The engine slowed. Sheila turned the key and there was sudden silence. Gerald took his phone out, then muttered, “Middle of bloody nowhere, no sodding reception. Try your phone; Sheel.”

Sheila took her phone out, stared at it for a moment then turned the screen to Gerald. ‘No network available.’

“Brilliant, just brilliant,” Gerald spat. “What are we going to do now? Where the hell are we anyway?”

“We’re in the woods, Gerry.”

“Thanks, love, that’s really helpful.”

“Well, you did ask.”

Gerald put his hands on his head and stared up at the sky. “Stuck in the middle of bloody nowhere. Nowhere,” he shouted at her. “All because you suddenly fancy yourself as Lewis bloody Hamilton.”

“Well, maybe if you’d managed to control yourself and stayed sober for once in your life, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s my fault, isn’t it. Of course it is. Silly me.”

“Oh good, sarcasm, that’ll help.”

“I’m going to take a piss.”

“Yeah, yeah, piss off, Gerry.”

They stared at each other for a moment, their eyes locked. Then Gerald turned and wandered over to a tree and unzipped his flies.

He peered into the darkness beyond the tree. The ground seemed to disappear. He turned and pissed into the darkness, listening to his stream hit the ground far below. Lucky he hadn’t walked any further or he’d have fallen into a huge hole in the ground. That could have been nasty.

He leaned forward to see how deep it was but it was too dark. He heard a sound behind him, then a flash went off in his head, then all went black.

Sheila looked at the thick branch in her hands, then threw it as far as she could off into the trees. She made her way back to the car and leaned into the glove compartment to get the torch.

It was a long way down into the ravine, she tripped several times on tree roots before the beam of the torch flickered over Gerald. He lay on his back, head turned to the side, eyes staring sightlessly at her, the blood almost black in the torchlight. She waited a moment, trying to work out how she felt. Then she turned and made her way back up the car.

As she reached the top, she heard the sound of a car coming. She frowned then arranged her face into what she hoped was a look of shocked grief, whispering, “I heard him shout, then he must have just fallen. He’s not moving. We’re supposed to be on holiday.”