Driven Wild

“Why would we be followed?” Leah glanced across at Rick. His lips were tightly pressed together, fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel. She could hear him breathing, almost wheezing, as he steered the car down the road.

He didn’t answer her, but suddenly veered the car down a side street without warning, no indicators or signal, barely braking. Car hooters sounded off in protest.

“Well, is it still behind us?” she asked impatiently.

The seconds ticked by as Rick appeared to be assessing the situation. “No. Gone.”

He settled back in his seat, taking deep breaths.

“Do you want to pull over? You’re very pale, Rick,” said Leah, concerned at his reaction.

Rick shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” she said.

“I’m fine!” he snapped and then broke out in a fit of coughing.

“Will you just pull the car over. Now!” she shouted at him. “I am your employer. Do it!”

He could no longer ignore her and he drew his car to the side of the road.

Leah was shaking. She had never drawn attention to her status, to her position, or his role. The house was hers, the money and privileges belonged to Leah. The car was the one place he felt in total control. She had taken it from him.

“Sorry,” he said, trying to clear his throat. “I’ll be alright in a minute.”

Leah didn’t harangue him, she waited for his breathing to regulate and the colour to come back in his cheeks and lips. Finally he nodded and turned to look at her.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. You’re right, it wasn’t anything. Just… a mistake.”

“Okay,” said Leah, taking his hand. “Your asthma is getting worse. Don’t hide it from me, Rick. I see you struggle some days. Why is it getting worse? Should you see a doctor?”

“No,” he said quickly. “It’s just the city air. The pollution, being in the car and exhaust fumes. When I lived in Switzerland, in the mountains, it rarely troubled me.”

“It’s where I live,” she said softly.

“Don’t worry,” he said, squeezing her hand. “As long as we take some time at the weekends to get out of the city, I’ll be fine.”

Leah wasn’t convinced by anything Rick was telling her. Why had he thought they were being followed?

Italy.

It remained the elusive part of his life and she wondered yet again if it explained many things. Not just the nightmares, but his deteriorating asthma. Stress made it worse, she knew it did, but he wouldn’t be told. As soon as he moved the car off, they slipped back into their usual functions. He drove her, kept her safe, and she let him take the lead. She needed him, but it looked increasingly like he needed her just as much.

Chapter Eight

Jane’s hair made Leah envious. Blond. That one word summed up her jealousy. Her eyes were light blue too, in contrast to Leah’s brown ones. Jane told her friend it had to do with a Swedish grandparent. Leah stared at the long yellow hair and imagined it on her head. Would Rick like her with blond hair?

The friends sat across the table from each other, fingering their buttered crumpets and wondering how to fill the silence. There had been a time when it was easy to think of something to talk about. Friends since childhood, they had survived the separation of different schools and universities. Their companionship had been a result of their mothers’ friendship. Family friends with young daughters, who liked to meet up and gossip. The daughters stayed friends, while the mothers drifted apart following Leah’s mother’s departure to Italy.

“You’ve changed,” blurted out Jane. “I mean that nicely,” she added, seeing Leah’s surprised expression.

“In what way?” asked Leah, wondering what had caused Jane to make her statement. She knew she had—was her relationship with Rick visible to the outside world? They hadn’t told anyone.

“It’s like when you started university. I really thought you would blow it back then. You pulled your socks up and proved your dad wrong. But you’ve always enjoyed the nightlife, going out, partying.”

“Habits change,” said Leah with a shrug.

“I was really worried about you, after your father died. You were going downhill and all that responsibility thrown on your shoulders. Wills, probate, money. I think you handled it well, except…”