I giggle and hit my playlist. The song Gold Digger rings out. I turn it up so it’s loud.
“You’re not just driving, baby, you’re driving to Gold Digger.” I laugh. “This is our aim. Today we are learning all the words to Gold Digger and Black Skinhead.”
She turns to me in disbelief. “You want us to learn rap songs, while we play golf?”
I dance as I mouth the words to her. “Sure do.” I put my hand over to the backseat. “Hit me with some chocolate, Sammy. I need sustenance.”
“Yeah!” he yells, full of excitement. “This is the best day ever!”
It’s 4:00 p.m. and we have laughed our way around every hole.
Kanye has been blaring out and we now know most of the words. Willow has been speeding and trying her best to hit every pothole on the paths. Sammy is beaming with happiness. Come to think of it, so am I.
We got told off twice by boring golfers who told us to turn our music down, which we did for approximately seven minutes each time.
We overtook some slow golfers and missed a hole completely.
We stopped at the shop and bought lunch, because I didn’t feel like eating the shitty jam sandwiches I made for us.
It has been a perfect day.
We have just finished the last hole, and Willow won the game. “I’ll have to drive back to reception, Will, so they don’t see you.”
She pulls the car over and I jump into the driver’s seat. I slowly drive us back down the hill towards reception.
“I’ve had a really great day.” I smile at the kids. “Thank you. That was the most fun I have had in ages.”
“Me, too!” Sammy calls from the back.
Willow smiles.
I point at her. "Haha, I got you smiling. Admit it. You had fun," I tease, and she rolls her eyes.
We drive down the hill slowly, with our music now off, when Sam calls out to me from the back. “Is that Dad?”
“What? Where?” I gasp.
“Over there, behind the tree.”
I look over and see a man in a navy polo shirt who kind of looks like him. He’s taking a shot with his club.
“Shit, is that him, Will?”
She sits up and narrows her eyes as she studies the man in the distance.
“Look out!” Sammy yells from the back seat.
I snap my attention back to the path to see Mr. Masters standing directly in front of the cart. I swerve, trying my best to avoid him, but it’s too late, and I hit him full force, running him over.
The cart bounces twice as he goes under the wheel.
I screech to a stop.
Holy. Fucking Hell.
Chapter Six
We all jump out of the cart, running to where Mr. Masters is sprawled on the ground. “Oh my God, Mr. Masters. Are-are you all right?” I stammer as I drop to the ground beside him.