The phone rang and my heart sank. We had travelled separately to an unfamiliar town.
“Hi Sweetheart.” I chirped, being as upbeat as I could muster.
‘I don’t know where I am.’
“Do you recognise anything?”
‘No. I’m in a town centre. But I don’t know which town centre.’
Oh God.
“Can you see a big church?”
‘No’
“Can you see Tescos?”
‘No’
“The Leisure Centre?”
‘No’
“Okay. What can you see?”
‘There’s a pub. But I can’t see the sign.’
“Uh huh.”
I knew nothing of the place so my questions were effectively pointless. To make matters worse it was a silent, empty and dark Sunday night.
“Do you know what street you’re on?”
‘Hold on, I’ll put you on hands-free and start driving.’
“Is that a good idea?”
‘What? You’re not very clear.’
“What road are you on?”
‘What? I’m on Back Lane.’
It meant nothing.
‘I’m going downhill’
“Did you turn right at the fifth roundabout?”
‘Yes. I think it was the fifth.’
“Do you think you could get back there?”
‘What?’ she shouted ‘I don’t know how to get back there.’
“Okay I’ll come and find you.” I proposed knowing full well the madness of the suggestion, me now on foot.
I found a hill and walked up it. She was coming down.
Sometimes I’m relieved to see T return to the Kitchen Door after putting bird seed out in the garden.