The One Plus One

by Moyes, Jojo

  He spotted a police car up ahead, and checked the speedometer, half braced for tangled metal. A filthy Rolls-Royce, one headlight dimmed, sat half up on the verge under the orange glow of a sodium light. A small girl stood beside it holding an enormous dog on a lead. Her head swivelled slowly as he passed.

  ‘I do understand that you have a lot of commitments, and your job is really important. We all understand that, Mr Big Swinging Technodick. But just one awkward family lunch with your sick father and your overworked, underpaid do-gooder sister. Would that be too much to ask?’

  ‘Hang on, Gem. There’s an accident.’

  Beside her a ghostly teenager – boy? girl? – with a shock of dark hair, stood with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumped and, turning briefly away from a policeman who was writing something, another child – no, a small woman, her hair tied back into a scrappy ponytail. She was lifting her hands in exasperation in a gesture that reminded him of Lara. You are so annoying!

  He had driven a further hundred yards before he understood the jolt that went through him. He knew that woman. He racked his brain: bar? Holiday park? He had a sudden image of her taking his car keys, a memory of her removing his glasses in his house. What was she doing out there with children at this time of night? He pulled over and glanced into the rear-view mirror, watching. He could just make out the group. The little girl had sat down on the dark verge, the dog a mountainous black lump beside her.

  ‘Ed? Are you okay?’ Gemma’s voice broke into the silence.

  Afterwards he wasn’t entirely sure what made him do it. Perhaps it was an attempt to delay his arrival back in that empty house to sit staring at a television screen until the small hours. Perhaps it was the strangeness of it – that making himself part of such a scene seemed no longer an odd thing to do in a life that had gone so far off the rails.

  Perhaps it was just that he wanted to convince himself, against all available evidence, that he was not entirely an arsehole.

  ‘Gem, I’ll have to call you back. It’s someone I know.’

  He pulled over and did a three-point turn, driving back down the dimly lit road slowly until he reached the police car. He pulled up on the other side of the road.

  ‘Hi,’ Ed said, lowering the window. ‘Can I help?’

  9.

  Tanzie

  They let Nicky out at a quarter to five. Tanzie handed over the Nintendo she’d brought on the bus from home and watched silently as he played with grazed fingers. Her happy mood had disappeared a bit when she first saw Nicky’s swollen face. It didn’t really look like him and she’d had to make her eyes stay very firmly on his when they would have liked to go somewhere else, even to the stupid picture of galloping horses on the wall opposite, which didn’t even look like horses. She wanted to tell him about how they’d registered at St Anne’s, but it was hard to think about it too much in that little room, with the smell of hospitals in her nose and Nicky’s eye all the wrong shape.

  He made funny little sounds as he walked, and tried to close his mouth over them, like he didn’t want to let on how much it hurt. Tanzie found herself thinking, The Fishers did this, the Fishers did this, and she felt a bit scared because she couldn’t believe anyone they knew would do this for no reason. Mum had to have all the usual arguments with the hospital people about how, no, she wasn’t his actual mum, but as good as. And, no, he didn’t have a social worker. And it always made Tanzie feel a bit odd, like Nicky wasn’t a proper part of their family, even though he was.

  When Nicky got up to go down the corridor she put her hand gently into his, and even though normally he would have told her to ‘Scoot, small fry’ or one of the other stupid things he said, he just squeezed her fingers a bit and his swollen mouth gave her this little smile, like just for once she was allowed (or at least until he said, ‘Tanze, mate, I do actually need to go to the loo now’).

  Mum’s face was all pale, and she kept chewing her lip, like she wanted to say a lot more than she did. Nicky didn’t look at her once.

  And then, when lots of doctors and people arrived in his room, Mum told Tanzie to wait outside and she walked up and down the long antiseptic corridors, reading her papers and working on her algebra. Numbers always made her feel better. If you treated them properly they always did what they were meant to do – like there was a magical order all around that you could unlock if you had the right key.

  Nicky was dressed when she went back in. He walked out of the room really slowly, and he remembered to thank the nurse.

  ‘Nice lad, isn’t he?’ she said. ‘Polite.’

  Mum was gathering up his things. ‘That’s the worst bit,’ she said. ‘He just wants to be left alone.’

  ‘Doesn’t really work like that round here, though, does it?’ The nurse smiled at Tanzie. ‘Take care of your brother, eh?’

  As she walked towards the main entrance behind him, Tanzie wondered what it said about their family when every single conversation they had now seemed to end with a funny look and the words ‘Take care.’

  Mum made dinner and gave Nicky three different-coloured pills to take, and they sat watching television on the sofa together. It was Total Wipeout, which normally made Nicky pretty much wee himself laughing, but he had barely spoken since they returned home, and she didn’t think it was because his jaw hurt. He looked weird. Tanzie thought about the way those boys had jumped on him and the woman who had dragged her into the shop so that she wouldn’t see and she tried to block out the thought because the sound of them hitting him still made her stomach go a bit funny, even though Mum said she would never, ever let it happen again, and she was not to think about it, okay?

  Mum was busy upstairs. Tanzie could hear her dragging drawers out and going backwards and forwards across the landing. She was so busy she didn’t even notice it was way past bedtime.

  She nudged Nicky very gently with her finger. ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘Does what hurt?’

  ‘Your face.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ He looked at her like he didn’t know what she was talking about.

  ‘Well … it’s a funny shape.’

  ‘So’s yours. Does that hurt?’

  ‘Ha-ha.’

  ‘I’m fine, Titch. Drop it.’ And then, when she stared at him, ‘Really. Just … forget it. I’m fine.’

  Mum came in and put the lead on Norman. He was lying on the sofa and didn’t want to get up and it took her about four goes to drag him out of the door. Tanzie was going to ask her if she was taking him for a walk but then the really funny bit was on where the wheel knocks the contestants off their little pedestals into the water and she forgot. Then Mum came back in.

  ‘Okay, kids. Get your jackets.’

  ‘Jackets? Why?’

  ‘Because we’re leaving. For Scotland.’

  She made it sound perfectly normal.

  Nicky didn’t even look round from the television. ‘We’re leaving for Scotland.’ He pointed the remote control at the screen, just to check.

  ‘Yup. We’re going to drive.’

  ‘But we haven’t got a car.’

  ‘We’re taking the Rolls.’

  Nicky glanced at Tanzie, then back at Mum. ‘But you haven’t got insurance.’

  ‘I’ve been driving since I was twelve years old. And I’ve never had an accident. Look, we’ll stick to the B roads, and do most of it overnight. As long as nobody pulls us over we’ll be fine.’

  They both stared at her.

  ‘But you said –’

  ‘I know what I said. But sometimes the ends justify the means.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  Mum threw her hands up in the air. ‘There’s a maths competition that could change our lives and it’s in Scotland. Right now, we haven’t got the money for the fares. That’s the truth of it. I know it’s not ideal to drive, and I’m not saying it’s right, but unless you two have a better idea then let’s just get into the car and get on with it.’

  ‘Um,
don’t we need to pack?’

  ‘It’s all in the car.’

  Tanzie knew Nicky was thinking what she was thinking – that Mum had finally gone mad. But she had read somewhere that mad people were like sleepwalkers – it was best not to disturb them. So she nodded really slowly, like this was all making perfect sense, and she fetched her jacket and they walked through the back door and into the garage, where Norman was sitting in the back seat and giving them the look that said, ‘Yeah. Me too.’ She climbed in. It smelt a bit musty, and she didn’t really want to put her hands down on the seats because she had read somewhere that mice wee all the time, like non-stop, and mouse wee could give you about eight hundred diseases. ‘Can I just run and get my gloves?’ she said. Mum looked at her like she was the crazy one, but she nodded, so Tanzie ran and put them on and thought she probably felt a bit better.

  Nicky eased his way gingerly into the front seat, and wiped at the dust on the dashboard with his fingers. Tanzie wanted to tell him about the mouse wee but she didn’t want to alert Mum to the fact that she knew.

  Mum opened the garage door, started the engine, reversed the car carefully out onto the drive. Then she climbed out, closed and locked the garage securely, then sat and thought for a minute. ‘Tanze. Have you got a pen and paper?’

  She fished around in her bag and handed her one. Mum didn’t want her to see what she was writing but Tanzie peeped through the seats.

  FISHER YOU LITTLE WASTE OF SKIN I HAVE TOLD THE POLICE THAT IF ANYONE BREAKS IN IT WILL BE YOU AND THEY ARE WATCHING

  She got out of the car and pinned it to the bottom part of the door, where it wouldn’t be visible from the street. Then she climbed back into the half-eaten driver’s seat and, with a low purr, the Rolls set off into the night, leaving the glowing little house behind them.

  It took them about ten minutes to work out that Mum had forgotten how to drive. The things that even Tanzie knew – mirror, signal, manoeuvre – she kept doing in the wrong order, and she drove leaning forwards over the steering-wheel and clutching it like the grannies who drove at fifteen m.p.h. around the town centre and scraped their doors on the pillars in the municipal car park.

  They passed the Rose and Crown, the industrial estate with the five-man car wash, and the carpet warehouse. Tanzie pressed her nose to the window. They were officially leaving town. The last time she had left town was on the school journey to Durdle Door when Melanie Abbott was sick all down herself in the coach and started a vomit chain reaction around the whole of Five C.

  ‘Just keep calm,’ Mum muttered to herself. ‘Nice and calm.’

  ‘You don’t look calm,’ said Nicky. He was playing Nintendo, his thumbs a blur on each side of the little glowing screen.

  ‘Nicky, I need you to map-read. Don’t play Nintendo right now.’

  ‘Well, surely we just go north.’

  ‘But where is north? I haven’t driven around here for years. I need you to tell me where I should be going.’

  He glanced up at the signpost. ‘Do we want the M3?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m asking you!’

  ‘Let me see.’ Tanzie reached through from the back and took the map from Nicky’s hands. ‘What way up do I hold it?’

  They drove round the roundabout twice, while she wrestled with the map, and then they were on the ring road. Tanzie vaguely remembered this road: they had once come this way when Mum and Dad were trying to sell the air-conditioners. ‘Can you turn the light on at the back, Mum?’ she said. ‘I can’t read anything.’

  Mum swivelled in her seat. ‘The button should be above your head.’

  Tanzie reached up and clicked it with her thumb. She could have taken her gloves off, she thought. Mice couldn’t walk upside down. Not like spiders. ‘It’s not working.’

  ‘Nicky, you’ll have to map-read.’ She looked over, exasperated. ‘Nicky.’

  ‘Yeah. I will. I just need to get these golden stars. They’re five thousand points.’ Tanzie folded the map as best she could and pushed it back through the front seats. Nicky’s head was bent low over his game, lost in concentration. To be fair, golden stars were really hard to get.

  ‘Will you put that thing down!’

  He sighed, snapped it shut. They were going past a pub she didn’t recognize, and now a new hotel. Mum said they were looking for the M3 but Tanzie hadn’t seen any signs for the M3 for ages. Beside her Norman started a low whine: she figured they had around thirty-eight seconds before Mum said it was shredding her nerves.

  She made it to twenty-seven.

  ‘Tanzie, please stop the dog. It’s making it impossible to concentrate. Nicky. I really need you to read the map.’

  ‘He’s drooling everywhere. I think he needs to get out.’ She shifted to the side.

  Nicky squinted at the signs in front of them. ‘If you stay on this road I think we’ll end up in Southampton.’

  ‘But that’s the wrong way.’

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  The smell of oil was really strong. Tanzie wondered whether something was leaking. She put her glove over her nose.

  ‘I think we should just head back to where we were and start again.’

  With a grunt Mum swung the car off at the next exit and went round the roundabout. Turning corners made the tendons in her neck stand out like little steel cables. They all tried to ignore the grinding noise as she turned the wheel to the right, and headed back down the other side of the dual carriageway.

  ‘Tanzie. Please do something with the dog. Please.’ She looked up and pointed towards the turn-off for the town. ‘What am I doing, Nicky? Coming off here?’

  ‘Oh, God. He’s farted. Mum, I’m suffocating.’

  ‘Nicky, please can you read the map.’

  Tanzie remembered now that Mum hated driving. She wasn’t good at processing information quickly enough. She always said she didn’t have the right synapses. Plus, to be fair, the smell now seeping through the car was so bad it made it hard to think straight.

  She began to gag. ‘I’m dying!’

  Norman turned his big old head to look at her, his eyes sad, like she was being really mean.

  ‘But there are two turnings. Do I take this one or the next?’

  ‘Definitely the next. Oh, no, sorry – it’s this one.’

  ‘What?’ Mum wrenched the car off the dual carriageway, narrowly avoiding the grass verge, and onto the exit slip. The car juddered as they hit the kerb and Tanzie had to let go of her nose to grab Norman’s collar.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, can you just –’

  ‘I meant the next one. This one takes us miles out of the way.’

  ‘We’ve been on the road almost half an hour and we’re further away than when we started. Jesus, Nicky, I –’

  It was then that Tanzie saw the flashing blue light.

  She stared up at the rear-view mirror, then turned to look out of the back windscreen, disbelieving. She willed it to go past, to be racing to the scene of some accident. But instead it drew nearer and nearer, until those cold blue lights filled the car.

  Nicky swivelled painfully in his seat. ‘Um, Jess, I think they want you to pull over.’

  ‘Shit. Shit shit shit. Tanzie, you didn’t hear that.’ Mum took a deep breath, adjusted her hands on the wheel as she started to slow. ‘It will be fine. It will all be fine.’

  Nicky slumped a little lower in his seat. ‘Um, Jess?’

  ‘Not now, Nicky.’

  The blue light was pulling over too. Her palms had begun to sweat. It will all be fine.

  ‘I guess this isn’t the time to tell you I brought my stash with me.’

  10.

  Jess

  So there she was, standing on the grass verge of a dual carriageway at eleven forty at night with two policemen who were both acting not like she was a major criminal, which was sort of what she’d expected, but worse – like she was just really, really stupid. Everything they said had a patronising edge to it: So are you often in the hab
it of taking your family out for a late-night drive, madam? With only one headlight working? Were you not actually aware, madam, that your tax disc is two years out of date? They hadn’t actually looked up the whole no-insurance thing yet. So there was that to look forward to.

  Nicky was sweating on the verge, waiting for them to locate his stash. Tanzie was a pale, silent ghost a few feet away, hugging Norman’s neck for reassurance.

  Jess had only herself to blame. It could hardly get any worse.

  And then Mr Nicholls turned up.

  Jess almost laughed then: the whole thing was so ridiculously awful. She felt the remaining colour drain from her face as his window wound down and she saw who it was. And she realized exactly what was going to happen next, which was that he was going to tell the policemen: ‘You know what? As well as driving a car that is uninsured and without a valid tax disc and probably contains a quarter-ounce of skunk somewhere in that mouse-infested upholstery, this woman is a THIEF.’

  And a million thoughts flashed through her head – like who was going to mind the children when she went to prison, and if it was Marty, would he remember things like the fact that Tanzie’s feet grew occasionally and buy her new shoes instead of waiting until her toenails curled in on her toes? And who would look after Norman? And why the hell hadn’t she done what she should have done in the first place and just given Ed Nicholls back his stupid roll of money?

  But he didn’t say any of that. He just took in the scene and said, ‘Need some help?’

  Policeman Number One turned slowly to look him over. He was a barrel-chested man with an upright bearing, the kind who took himself seriously, and bristled if everyone else didn’t too. ‘And you are …’

  ‘Edward Nicholls. I know this woman. What is it? Car trouble?’ He stared at the Rolls as if he couldn’t believe it was actually on the road.

  ‘You could say that,’ said Policeman Number Two.