The Interview by Donna Alam

Author:Donna Alam [Alam, Donna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-04-10T23:00:00+00:00

“What in the world…” Before we get to the red-bricked street I currently call home, we’re flagged to a stop by a policeman. The road ahead is cordoned off with blue tape. Beyond it stands a couple of fire trucks, police cars, and people in reflective jackets.

“No access to the road ahead, folks,” the policeman says, bending as Whit opens his window.

“What’s going on, officer?” I ask, ducking down to see him better.

“Unexploded ordinance was found in a garden in Barnaby Street.”

“Oh no. That’s Aunt Doreen’s street.” I glance at Whit, then back at the officer. “Unexploded ordinance? You mean, like a bomb?”

“Probably left over from the war,” he says. “The army’s bomb squad are on their way.”

“The bomb squad?” My heart begins to flutter rapidly. I press my hand to it, willing it to settle.

“Don’t worry. Your aunt will be safe,” Whit offers. “She will have been evacuated.”

“Yep.” The policeman stands. “The houses are all empty. Reverse at the corner when you can,” he directs Whit as he turns.

“Don’t worry,” Whit says, taking my hand. “They do this all the time.”

“They do?”

“Well, relatively speaking,” he amends. Pressing his arm across the back of my seat, he twists his head over his shoulder as he begins to reverse.

“The camera.” I point at the image that flashes up on the dash. “Wouldn’t that be easier?”

“It would also be cheating,” he says with a small grin.

Maybe there’s a class they teach somewhere. Driving: How to Make it Look Hot. It shouldn’t be sexy watching him reverse. “No one finds it sexy when I do it!”

“Finds what sexy?”

Damn. “Nothing,” I mutter, glancing out of the side window.

“You think it’s sexy when I reverse?” he asks, driving back the way we came.

“Shut up,” I plead.

“Sure you don’t want to give this a drive?”

I expect to find innuendo painted across his face when I look. But no. “No thanks.”

“The offer stands. And you can back yourself up on me any day of the week.”

“Funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.” When I don’t answer, he adds, “So where to now?”

“Oh, pull over! There’s my aunt.” Doreen is holding court, sitting on a low garden wall. She has a teacup in her hand and a bag and cat carrier by her feet. “Oh, good. She has moggy.”

“Her cat is called cat?”

“No, he’s called Moggy.”

“Moggy means cat. Like mutt means dog.”

“Oh. Then I guess Aunt Doreen is unimaginative.” Which can’t be the case at all.

“There she is!” Doreen announces as we make our way toward her. “I was just talking about you.”

“I hope it was all good.”

“What a thing to say,” she scoffs. “You’re an angel. Didn’t I say she was an angel?” she says, turning to the woman on her left. “This is Sadie. She lives here.” She gestures to the house behind her. “She was kind enough to put the kettle on while we wait.”

A chorus of “lovely cuppa, this is,” starts up from the china cup holding brigade of elderly women.

“How long before you get to go back?” As Doreen’s eyes widen, then flick slowly up then down, I realize how rude I’m being.

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