Leave Me Breathless

‘Dressed for the occasion, I see.’ I take the handles of the barrow and lift, pushing on into the woods.

Alex looks down at the sequins on her puffy floral skirt where her axe now lies across her lap. ‘You don’t like it?’ Her tone is full of sarcasm as she strokes across the fabric. ‘How about the top?’

I look down at the frilled satin monstrosity. Then to the baseball cap on her head. And the Converses on her feet that look about ready for the bin. ‘Gorgeous.’

She relaxes back, looking up at me as I push on. ‘This is what I’m wearing when you and Hannah get married.’

My eyes drop. ‘Quit it.’

She chuckles and jumps out the barrow while it’s still moving, running across the clearing we’ve reached. ‘This one looks like it’s ready to come down.’ She kicks the trunk of the dead birch, looking up into the branches. ‘What d’ya think?’

‘I think you’re right.’ I set the barrow down and take my axe, swinging it as I make my way over. ‘But it’s too big for you.’ I look around, hearing Alex snort her displeasure. I spot a small conifer a few yards away. ‘You take that one, I’ll take this one.’

‘That’s tiny!’

‘So are you.’ I pull my T-shirt off and toss it aside, raising my axe and bringing it down with a roar.

We spent four hours in the woods and collected enough firewood to last us a year. My muscles ache deliciously as we drive back into town to pick up some dinner, but my ears are bleeding as Alex belts out the lyrics to ‘Wild Thing’ by the Troggs, using the dashboard as a drum kit.

I reach forward and turn the stereo down. ‘Anyone ever tell you that you have really odd taste in music?’

‘Yeah. You. All the time.’ She reaches forward and cranks up the volume again, going back to hitting and smacking at the dashboard. My daughter’s a nutter. And I love her all the more for it – unashamed, uninhibited, wild. At least, she is when she’s with me. I glance across to her, smiling, just as her arm flies toward the windscreen. ‘Dad, watch out!’

I startle and take both hands to the wheel, seeing a truck coming at us head-on. ‘Fuck!’ My mind takes way too long to register that it’s on the wrong side of the road. Our side. And it’s not shifting out of the way.

‘Dad!’ Alex yells, smacking me on the arm and pointing at the road again, as if I could have missed it coming closer and closer. It’s going way over the speed limit for around these parts.

I smack at my horn repeatedly, torn whether to swerve or not. If I swerve and then this twat swerves, we’re going to hit head-on.

‘Fucking hell,’ I breathe. Adrenaline powers through me, and I yank the wheel hard at the last second, wincing as the sound of screeching tyres pierces the air. The other truck clips mine, jolting it violently as I hit the dirt on the side of the road, slamming on the brakes to avoid hitting a huge oak tree.

We skid to an abrupt stop. ‘Good Lord Christ,’ Alex breathes from beside me, her hands clawed into her seat on either side of her waist.

‘You okay?’ I ask as I undo my belt, registering her nod through her shock as I jump out and run around the back of my truck to try to catch the registration plate of the asshole who ran us off the road.

‘Fuck.’ I kick the pile of leaves at my feet, just seeing the tail end of the Mitsubishi disappear around a bend. Everything in me wants to chase the stupid fucker down and kick ten tons of shit out of him, but . . .

I inhale, trying to calm my rage, and go to Alex, opening the door and noting her stiff body. She turns her wide eyes onto me. ‘What a twat!’ she screeches, unclipping her belt and hopping out. She runs to the roadside, her arms flailing. ‘Learn how to drive, moron!’

‘I don’t think he can hear you,’ I mutter, checking the damage. ‘Motherfucker.’ A tidy gouge stretches from the bumper to the door.

I hear Alex stomp her way back to me, her hands on her hips. ‘It’s good MI5 taught you how to drive properly when you were a copper, or we might be dead.’

I laugh under my breath as I straighten, staring down the road to the bend. ‘Yeah,’ I reply quietly.

We make it into town with no further incidents, and I park outside Mr Chaps’s shop, my gaze naturally drifting to the shop a few buildings down, wondering what kind of day Hannah’s had and if she found inspiration for that blank canvas. I inwardly smile, thinking I’ll pop in and find out, just as soon as I’ve gotten what we need from the shop.