“Can’t you all just be quiet? I’m trying to read.”
“Don’t you speak to me like that young lady!” That was the reaction I got from both of my parents as I asked them to keep the noise down. We hadn’t moved from this spot for 2 hours. And it was Rob’s turn on the Game Boy. And Hattie only wanted to play it to get on Rob’s nerves. I could have told them that, but I would have just gotten the same unreasonable reaction, that because I was 15, I didn’t have a clue. About anything.
The noise begins to settle as they listen to their repetitive music and the toneless instructions of the navigator. Each of them is thinking about an incident vivid in their own mind, but forgotten by others. They only think of their own importance, and the mark they leave on others. They are self contained and self absorbed.
We were heading for Cornwall. For all of us except my dad, it was for the first time in three years. It was understandable that they spent most of the long hours lecturing us on manners while we were caged in the car- we had to make a good impression. They were our family though. Should we really have to make an impression on them? Aren’t they supposed to know us better than we even know ourselves? Sometimes things aren’t what they are assumed to be though.
They suspect the feeling of awkwardness that undercurrents their arrival. It will be smothered by joviality, present giving and drink. Concern for each other’s appearance makes them interfering. Hills roll past, and the malicious sun is shining straight down onto the car holding them like packed vegetables.
Slowly the car crawled down the stretch of motorway, which the sun was slowly melting. The car had been a sanctuary from the heat at the beginning of the journey, but now we could feel the effects of it. The angrier and more frustrated we got the warmer the car grew. As the batteries ran out, everyone’s books were finished, and we still didn’t look like we had moved all that much further we ignored each other and concentrated on ourselves. I was thirsty, my arms were itchy with sweat, my legs were cramped, and I still didn’t see why I was the one that always had to read Hattie a story.
“Why can’t Rob do it?”
“Because I asked you to do it.”
“Then ask Rob.”
“He did it before. I’ll ask him next time. And now just do it.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
So I went on to read ‘We’re going On A Bear Hunt’ with as much feeling as I would read a recipe.
Slowly as we got closer and closer to Cornwall we forgot every reason we had for not wanting to get there. A huge proper Sunday roast, which would no doubt be on the table when we arrived, sounded like heaven. It was our cousin Matt’s birthday, and the cake would be huge and covered in chocolate. We had had experiences of birthday cakes before in Cornwall. They were always worth the journey.
We had a CD on in the car. It was Queen. We always listened to Queen and Van Morrison on long car journeys. Everything seems to merge together after a while though, just drowning out the sound of the car. And each other.
They are separate and isolated from each other as though in separate cages. They expect no communication. They give none. They can only think ahead.
By the time that there was only about an hour to go of this pain staking driving we were all looking forward to Cornwall like it was the Promised Land. Every accident was forgotten. We only remembered the food and drink we would be given, the early Christmas and late birthday presents.
We were just coming up the drive of the house when the door opened and every single relative I remember, some that I didn’t remember, and some that I didn’t even know came swarming down the drive. Within minutes we were all crowded round a huge dining table, ready to begin.
The accidents were forgotten. They had successfully implanted themselves in this household. They would not let it out of their grasp until they left exhausted and overfed, to return to their mundane routine of work. Believing that they had had a holiday.
