by Sally Bryan
It was already midday, long after when we should have been on the road and I wasn’t convinced as to Gabe’s suitability to drive. Carcassonne was two hundred miles away; not excessive, but long enough we’d see little of the place if we didn’t get moving. The sun burned down in a way that would imperil my Scottish skin and there were yet many more southern roads to travel.
Gabe, looking washed but still groggy, lumbered into the communal room, to where I had a plate of pastries and mug of lukewarm coffee waiting. “Doctor, we need to talk.” His voice was hoarse enough to match his pained expression.
Already anticipating what this might be, I could feel the blood pressure rising within me but I held my tongue in case I was wrong. I mean, he wouldn’t, surely. “Yes?”
“It’s Dan.” He confirmed my nightmares whilst collapsing into the seat beside me and clutching the coffee to his face.
“Yes?” I asked through clenched teeth.
He sensed it at once, replaced the mug and went for my hand, clasping it between his and looking into my eyes and because he could barely open them, the result was a strange imploring expression mixed with pained squint from the sun coming in through the large window. “Frey, it’s only until Barcelona.”
I threw down his hand. “Our Epic Euro Trip, right? That’s what this was supposed to be.”
“Frey, I promise it’s only till Barcelona.” He tried to speak soothingly but couldn’t even manage that with his voice in this state. “I think he wants to stay there forever, all the women and parties, he’s somehow talked himself into believing it’s a utopia and I’ll spend the entire journey reinforcing that image in his sweet little head.” He groaned and rubbed his temple following the long verbal exertion.
“You’re not helping, Gabe.” And nor was he. It felt like a large chunk of life force had been yanked out from me. I knew travelling was meant to be about discovery and exploration, which included meeting and spending time with new, worldly, intelligent and interesting people but having met Dan, I was dubious any of those labels could be applied to him. And why couldn’t Gabe and I just have a week, one measly week alone to have some peace, quiet and culture before we were descended upon? Had we not spent the last five years working hard enough to deserve that? I exhaled deeply and then my hand made a sudden forlorn lunge for my bag that was on the table. “You two concocted this last night, didn’t you? Whilst you were getting pissed off your trolleys.” I threw the bag back, having made my point. “And were you not even going to consult me about this? You know, travelling with another person, all the way to Barcelona, however long that will take. That’s quite a change from what we had in mind, don’t you think?”
“I know, I know.” He tactfully agreed and rubbed my arm. “If it makes you feel better, he’ll be asleep most of the journey.” Which, I reasoned, would at least be true, given Arwen had confirmed his philistine nature. And then I froze as my mind threw back Gabe’s last words.
“What do you mean, he’ll be asleep most of the journey?”
* * *
It was true.
Dan’s stupid little car had been towed away, or stolen, or hidden by Dan during the dark hours and I now glared at the oil stain on the pavement where the vehicle had been only the night before.
“So you see? There’s no choice, he has to travel with us.” Gabe leaned in and raised his eyebrows in an imploring gaze. “Please?”
When I’d first heard of this master plan to venture as far as Barcelona with Dan, I’d innocently assumed we’d be travelling in separate vehicles, which at least meant respite during those long, uncomfortable, sweaty hours on the road and, if he turned out to be as intolerable as expected at the rest stops and services, I could make my excuses and avoid him at the hostels. But now?
“This is a very, very poor excuse, Gabe.” Especially given the man had bought the thing for practically nothing and could quite easily do so again, not to mention public transport which, I was told, existed even in France. But as so often with Gabe, I felt my resolve weakening. Worse, it felt like I was the one being unreasonable. Dan was my boyfriend’s best friend, after all, and they’d not seen much of each other in recent years. The last thing I ever wanted was to be one of those women who came between her man and his friends. I knew one or two such women studying medicine and pitied them. What were they afraid of? That his friends might lead their man astray? Which meant really that it all came down to trust and I most certainly did trust Gabe and knew without doubt that he would never cheat or even be tempted. Not only was I being irrational but I also realised I was only feeling this way because our special trip was taking a detour, both geographically and, with the addition of male competition, emotionally, which meant that for the first time, I had to learn to share. Besides, might it be possible Dan could grow on me if I just gave him a chance?
Gabe sensed my resolve weakening and moved in for the hug and then he kissed me and everything was all right with the world. “I love you, Doc.”
“I love you too.” I clasped him tight as I felt his arms around my back. “But we’re going to Carcassonne today and any deviation from that and we’re breaking up.”
He plucked my bra strap and the elastic snapped against my back and I tried to hit him on the shoulder but couldn’t because he was holding me too close, so I melted into his embrace instead and then our lips met and his hand clutched one of my buns that I knew tipped him over the edge with lust as my breasts pressed against his chest and the air between us became intense and all I could think was that we’d not had the privacy to be intimate in too long and when would we have it again and his tongue entered my mouth as I felt him hardening against me and I was about to grab his hand so that I could rush him inside, to find any room that may or may not be free and to hell with anyone who might happen to walk in and then…
“Don’t mind me, you two horny little love birds,” came Dan’s deep Yorkshire rumble from somewhere too close.
We instinctively broke apart like we were two teenagers caught doing something wrong, even though we had no right to feel that way.
He bounded from the hostel in our direction, dragging a large backpack along the ground. “Is that the camper?” He looked across the street to where Gabe had parked it earlier as his stupid face came alive. “Oh, mate, looks like you’ve got me the entire summer.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a remark intended to compliment Gabe or annoy me, indeed, all that was missing was a slap on my back. So far, I’d not given Dan any reason to know how much of an annoyance I was finding him and hoped the peace could be maintained, for Gabe’s sake, at least until we parted ways. Things would have been better had we met in Edinburgh, knowing I could escape Dan The Gatecrasher at any moment but for now, I could only reconcile myself in the knowledge it was temporary, probably only two more stops, and then Gabe and I would have the rest of the summer to ourselves.
“Trust me, you’re gonna fall in love with it,” Gabe told Dan as he slid open the side door and they commenced an animated discussion about the camper, how old it was, how fast it could go, had we had sex in it yet and was Dan allowed to drive it.
All this whilst I took it upon myself to load all our belongings without their help and then I stood, hands on hips, as I wondered why the heck we were still standing around.
“Did you have to drive it through a sewer though? It’s filthy.” Dan used his finger to scrawl ‘Also Available in Orange’ on the side panel. “I’ll drive when you get tired then you and Freya can go in the back and do your thing.”
“Mate, I’m not letting you drive this. Don’t think I can’t remember how much of a liability you are behind the wheel of any…”
Their words petered out as the rumble of wheels increased in volume and their gazes shifted in unison toward the hostel from where Arwen was casually approaching with a trolley bag. She wore flip flops and a frilly red short jumpsuit that cut off closer to the arse than knees, though the top was elegantly tapered into a V, covering her cleavage
, not that the girl’s assets weren’t straining against the material from within. No, she looked good and she bloody well knew it, but at least was decent enough not to outshine me too much to the best of her capabilities in front of my own boyfriend. I mean, what girl likes being upstaged at her own supposed party.
Because apparently, Arwen was joining us, which considering everything up to this point, should not have surprised me one bit.
And then my cynical side kicked in as I surveyed the girl, her looks, physiology and sweet-natured demeanour. She’d travelled with Dan all the way from Denmark. Yet Dan was skint whilst she was buying expensive bottles of wine, unnecessary as it was, for people she didn’t know. Sure, Dan was probably a spendthrift and maybe Arwen had rich parents but somehow, I still doubted she was paying her way, as Dan had suggested, and was likewise teasing the idiot with promises. Let’s face it, too many men were blind to a pretty face and made easy prey for the type of woman who was all too happy to take advantage. Well, she could try that with me and see how far it got her, I’d be watching closely.
I turned back to Gabe, who along with Dan had not only gone silent but had a deranged glazed look in the eye. “So you can see straight now, can you?” I could have throttled him and then I realised that this was the first time Gabe had seen her in full, up close and I got the distinct impression he wouldn’t be all that against her joining us.
I snatched the keys from his limp grasp, “I’m bloody driving,” and stomped toward the driver’s side door.
* * *
I opened the window as far as it would go, breathed and worked my head around its axis. Two hours driving that had brought us from the region of Aquitaine to Occitanie, where the terrain became noticeably more mountainous, had gifted me with a stiff neck, doubtless from a poor night on a bad bed, possibly exacerbated from stress and kicked off from spending too long in the same position.
Beside me, Gabe was reclined back with his feet on the dashboard from where he occasionally muttered nonsensical claptrap and I wondered with a smile about what he was dreaming.
For the first hour, Dan had been rattling around in the back with the pots and pans as he explored the camper’s furthest recesses, lighting the stove and playing with the TV, radio, coffee machine, drinking shots from the minibar, pulling out the chemical toilet and its septic tank and generally driving me crazy.
To her credit, Arwen spent the time lounging back on the seating bench, keeping quiet whilst reading a book, occasionally sitting up to gaze outside the window whenever we passed something of interest and altogether somehow managing not to get piqued by the Gatecrasher’s proximity. I don’t know how she managed it, as even now he was sifting through Gabe’s collection of board games he’d brought for a rainy day, finding everything yet nothing of interest like a teenager with ADHD. Either she’d somehow tranced out or she possessed the patience of a saint which, considering our first encounter, I thought unlikely.
I adjusted the rearview mirror and peered into it, trying to see what it was she was reading, except I couldn’t tell because it was in French. I made a small appreciative hum and muttered, “not such a bimbo, after all.”
Gabe stirred, mumbled something incomprehensible and again, I worked my neck with a hand pressed down on my shoulder. “Ugh, I’ve done something to it.”
The motorway bypassed the city of Toulouse and in so doing the signs were indicating I had to pay the second toll charge of the journey. So far I’d had to stump up fifteen Euros of my own money, whilst Gabe slept and the freeloaders pretended not to notice.
That was one difference between the UK and much of Europe. We so often complained about having to pay the most expensive fuel costs in the world but at least we didn’t have to pay tolls. Here, fuel was much cheaper but having to make regular stops to feed money into a machine was irritating and, I was sure, more than made up for what they didn’t collect in fuel taxes. However, where our roads were continually congested, here you could drive for miles and miles and not see another vehicle in either direction. It was a trade-off, I supposed, though on balance I’d go with the French.
Stopping at the barrier, I sighed loud enough for Dan and Arwen to hear, made a deliberate jingling noise with the change in the door’s side pocket before getting out to pay the toll. That was another thing about driving a British vehicle on the continent and I assumed it was something we’d have to get used to, leaving the vehicle to walk around the other side in order to pay. Of course, I could simply have slapped Gabe awake so he could feed the machine through the window at his side but I wanted to make a point and see how the gruesome twosome in the back reacted. After I’d paid, that was another ten Euros from our diminishing fund gone and I hoped I wouldn’t have to make that phone call to Dad.
I resumed my seat and Dan, for the first time, was sitting quietly, conspicuously looking out the window as though the other lanes of traffic were a fascination to him - Noted. I shifted my focus to Arwen who, to my surprise, was looking straight back and caught my eye in the mirror. I hastily looked away, as was the learned British custom of avoiding eye contact and silently cursed myself. Was she about to offer me money?
I clenched my hands around the wheel and restarted the engine, drove through the opened barrier and clamped a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to stretch out my neck muscles.
Gabe awoke half an hour later. “I feel better after that.”
I reached over the dashboard to tickle his feet, causing him to instantly pull back in giggles.
The upcoming road sign stated we were approaching the Millau Viaduct and intrigued, Gabe looked it up on Google.
“Oh, wow,” he rubbed his hands together and announced, “we’re about to cross the tallest bridge in the world.”
There was a rush of feet from the back and a blonde head poked through the gap between our seats. “Really? Any chance we can stop for a photo?”
I gasped and leaned away then was about to demand she resume her seat or risk being dropped off at the side of the road when Gabe spoke up from his phone.
“No, according to TripAdvisor the only place to stop is below, which means going to the local town of Millau and we’ve already passed the junction.” He stuck out his bottom lip. “Sorry.”
I was briefly distracted by the rearview mirror, presently trained on Dan, who was busy leering at Arwen’s behind as she leaned forward, a long pink braid with its accompanying wooden bead coming to rest an inch from my knee with its faint accompaniment of peach. Gabe inhaled, pushed his glasses up and seemed to pause before returning to his phone.
My face flared in Arwen’s direction. “If you sit down, I’ll drive slow so you can get your photo as we cross.” I sounded curt as intended, prompting a wavering smile from Gabe.
She didn’t argue and a minute later we arrived at the Millau Viaduct that crossed the Gorge Valley, a structure taller than the Eiffel Tower that presented the most impressive views of fields and trees and mountains and towns that looked like specs and rivers and of birds that were actually flying below us. There was the patter of feet and expressions of awe with Dan and Arwen moving from one side of the camper to the other as Gabe filmed the crossing on his phone and I simply sat back and enjoyed the intoxicating air that flooded in through the opened window so that it almost felt like I was floating and finally I was here, in beautiful France and for a moment, everything was bliss.
If only it could last because my neck was giving me such discomfort, I had no option other than to stop at the next services.
“I’ll drive the rest of the way,” Gabe said, taking the keys from my palm.
I didn’t argue and the rest would be most welcome, “thank you.”
The intruders were waiting up ahead and Gabe caught up with them to buy some food whilst I went to the chemist to get some ibuprofen. As the boys continued, I was surprised to find Arwen waiting for me. It was nice to finally stretch my legs and I caught her up after a few seconds. It was only now I could see, and almost appreciate
, what Dan had been so fascinated by.
It was the ass and how it filled out her red shorts the way all women wanted and most men craved, glutes that could only be built over time, as a result of heavy barbell squats, going deep, three times a week, every week. I knew that arse, the booty of fitness women whose programmes I’d purchased with the promise that I too could have buttocks shaped like that, just so long as I was willing to suffer and sweat and spend the week hobbling around on sore legs. Was it worth the sacrifice? In a word, probably, to have a rear like that, we women were willing to put ourselves through that kind of torture, to attract and keep our men.
My own buns were passable, I knew this from how Gabe reacted to them and the other attention I received but due to my ridiculous workload, it was more like deep squats only once a week for me and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a pang of jealousy and probably some insecurity. I didn’t want her around Gabe and I certainly didn’t want him looking, to compare me to her.
“Isn’t it a beautiful day.” She was wearing a stylish pair of sunglasses, whilst I’d left mine in the camper and because the sun was positioned behind her it caused me to shut one eye and squint with the other.
I continued and she walked alongside me. “That it is, that it is.”
“You have a problem with your neck?”
I turned inwards and raised a curious eyebrow. “I think I slept very badly and I’m off to buy some painkillers. Aren’t you hungry?”
She shrugged, “I’ll eat when we get to Carcassonne. You know, it doesn’t help being so stressed,” which was probably her polite way of saying uptight, “you do seem very tense.”
I stopped and stood arms akimbo. “Oh really, and you can tell that I’m stressed and tense, can you?”
She nodded and her feet scuffed against the ground as she took a small step closer. “It’s all in your shoulders and the way they’re being pulled. I don’t know, you spend long hours at a desk? At a computer? That’ll do it long term, and stress too, a bad night will kick it off.”