‘It’s going to be so flooded down here,’ Leanne says.
‘I didn’t know there was real countryside around here,’ says David.
‘What do you mean, real countryside?’ asks Charlotte.
‘You know, that you can actually go into. Footpaths and stuff.’
‘As opposed to what?’
‘I dunno. Rape fields next to the A12. Bleak yellow squares.’
‘Very poetic.’
‘Cheers.’
‘I bet people ride horses around here,’ Leanne says.
‘It’s pretty spooky, isn’t it?’ says Charlotte.
‘It’s only because it’s dark,’ Chantel says. ‘I bet it’s lovely in the day.’
‘Not as spooky as Epping Forest, though,’ David says. ‘I’ve heard all kinds of fucked-up shit about Epping. Like that road where cars roll uphill, and that headless ghost-woman – have you heard about her? Some of my mates from London got really stoned and went up there for a laugh but it wasn’t that much of a laugh, because one of them got lost, saw some kind of ghost, and hasn’t spoken since. It was like Blair Witch. No offence, Sophie.’
‘Not really, though,’ Leanne says. ‘You’re exaggerating, surely?’
‘No, I swear,’ David says.
‘There is lots of energy in the forest,’ Sophie agrees.
‘Can you all stop talking about headless women and ghosts?’ Charlotte says.
‘What time is it?’ Chantel asks.
‘About half-eight,’ says David.
‘It feels like midnight out here.’
Luke tries to imagine what they’re all talking about. It sounds too weird to look at. He could sit up but he feels too sick. He doesn’t know if it’s something to do with the motion, or the mouldy smell, or the fact that the outside has got in through his space-suit and he’s dying. He can’t think properly – this feeling of the ground moving underneath him is too peculiar for his thoughts to stay still. At first it was like a rush – a totally new sensation and he couldn’t work out why all the people he’s met in his life haven’t raved constantly about the delights of moving in an object on wheels. For the first five minutes of the journey the movement was delicious and tingly but now it’s making him feel sick. As well as that – who the hell is Sophie and why is she here? Maybe Luke’ll sit up when she goes. Maybe then the sick feeling will go.
The movement gets slower and slower.
‘Next left, then second right,’ Chantel’s saying.
‘I can’t see the turnings,’ Julie says. ‘There’s too much rain.’
Poor Julie, she must be hating this. She hates travelling. Luke wishes they were alone together. If they were, he could make her feel better. He could open his eyes and sit up front with her and tell her she can drive as slow as she wants on whichever roads she wants and he could read the map for her and she could tell him what all the things outside were. But at the moment, Luke doesn’t want to know what’s outside. It just doesn’t feel like his brain will take it – it’s still processing the experience of seeing his house from outside. He feels unplugged. He feels weird. He keeps thinking he’s left something behind. Then he realises that the thing he left behind is his whole life. All he can do is lie there, hope for the best and listen to the voices in the van.
‘Left, I said.’
‘Oh, shit.’
‘You’ll have to turn around.’
‘I can’t. The road’s too small.’
‘OK. Just take the next . . . uh, left, then left again.’
‘All right.’ Julie’s voice sounds wobbly. ‘OK.’
‘You OK, Jules?’ Charlotte asks.
‘I’m fine. I just feel a bit claustrophobic.’
‘That’s B-roads for you,’ says David.
‘These aren’t even B-roads, though, are they? They’re too small.’
‘You’re like Goldilocks.’
‘Huh?’
‘Everything’s wrong. Too big, too small; too busy, too quiet . . .’
‘Yes, well, B-roads would be just right, thanks.’
Everyone’s quiet for a few minutes, except for Chantel saying left, or right.
‘Is Epping flooded badly?’ Charlotte asks Sophie.
‘Not really,’ Sophie says. ‘It’s fine at the moment.’
‘Left,’ says Chantel. ‘And you can stay on this road for a while.’
‘Good,’ Julie says.
Luke can feel the van lurch from side to side, and wonders what would make it do that. Everything’s slower now, though, and the rain has become comforting, and he’s almost enjoying the tapping on the roof, and the lazy slosh of the van tyres. There’s the steady whir of the car heater, and the cold, comforting smell of Charlotte, Julie and David smoking. Whenever the van goes through another big puddle, Luke thinks of soft drink commercials. Again, the van lurches, then seems to go down, then up very sharply.
‘The council should do something about this road,’ Julie says.
‘This isn’t a road,’ says David. ‘It’s a track.’
‘Don’t worry, Jules,’ says Charlotte. ‘We’ll be there soon.’
‘Thanks for doing this,’ Sophie says. ‘I know it’s a bit out of your way.’
‘It’s OK,’ says Julie.
‘So are all the witches in your coven girls?’ David asks Sophie.
‘Yeah,’ says Sophie. ‘Well, girls and women. The eldest is in her sixties, and the youngest has just turned seventeen. We don’t have any men. We’re a Dianic coven, so . . .’
‘What’s a Dianic coven?’ David asks.
‘All women. Goddess oriented . . .’
‘Are you all lesbians?’
‘No.’
‘Do you run around naked?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Pity I’m a man, then. Sounds good.’ He laughs, then Luke can hear Chantel saying something like, David! then the sound of her hitting him playfully.
‘You couldn’t join anyway,’ Sophie says. ‘Even if we did have men.’
‘Huh?’ David sounds put out. ‘Why not?’
‘You’re not a witch,’ Sophie explains.
‘Don’t you mean a warlock?’
‘No. A male witch is called a witch.’
‘Oh. And I’m not one?’
‘Nope.’
‘Can you tell?’
‘Yep.’
‘And does that matter, then?’
‘Oh yes. You can’t join a coven if you’re not a witch.’
Luke shifts in the little bed. The sick feeling isn’t so bad now that the van’s going so slowly. Inside, he just feels lost. He has no idea where he is, and would have no idea how to get home if he had to. No one ever taught him how to cross the road, or buy a bus ticket, or read a map. If there was an emergency, he wouldn’t have any idea how to find, or use, a public telephone. He’s a lot further from home than he ever thought he would be, so far away that it’s like he’s in another world and home doesn’t exist any more.