Writing for Fun
May 2017
M25 - Jeanette Rothwell
Rita heard the single toot on the horn from the car sitting outside the flat. It signalled that her lift was here. She popped the last piece of toast in her mouth, shouted, 'Bye' to her flat mates, rushed down the hall to grab her handbag and coat, slammed the front door and climbed into the waiting Mini. The driver was Charlie Adams, a colleague from her office in Potters Bar. He manoeuvred the car out of the cul-de-sac where her flat was situated and headed toward the A127 and thence on to the M25.
She had met Charlie at a social function held in their insurance company office. They had never really spoken to each other before but a few glasses of wine oiled the wheels and she learned that he lived in Southend-on-Sea. She told him that she lived with two flat mates in a tiny flat in Leigh-on-Sea. A few more glasses and he offered to do the driving each day in his Mini, there and back, in exchange for some assistance with petrol money to which she readily agreed.
Rita owned a very old banger and was not at all confident that it would last the rigours of the M25 so the arrangement suited her very well. She was a 26 year old petite lady with dark curly hair, an infectious giggle and a fairly flamboyant choice in clothes. He was a pleasant looking 32 year old, always well groomed and always wearing a lemony smelling after-shave which Rita appreciated having to share a confined car space every working day.
It took about an hour to cover the journey to Potters Bar during which time the travellers would listen to music, discuss the news, argue a little about some current issues and generally pass the time comfortably, even when there were M25 traffic jams, and general frustrations on the journey. The motorway certainly earned its nickname of 'the largest circular car park in the world'. Rita worked in the Administration Department of the company and Charlie was in the Claims Section.
Just recently Rita's eyes had spotted an extremely good looking 33 year old man who worked in the Customer Care department and she told Charlie that she was trying to think of a way to talk to him. His name was Hugh. Charlie was amused by her various plans to accost the chap but in fact it all happened quite easily as she was in the middle of a fairly long session at the Photocopier when he came by needing to use the machine. She helped him to copy the documents he was holding, they got chatting, he asked her to join him for a coffee in the canteen, and thence on to asking her for a date.
The day after this encounter, she was full of it and Charlie listened quietly to her chatting, hoping she would not be too disappointed. The date was to take place at the weekend and she went out to buy a new dress and generally take time over her appearance.
The following Monday morning, she climbed into the car, somewhat subdued and Charlie tentatively asked her how the date had gone. She shook her head and burst into tears. It seemed that Hugh had been divorced for a year and he spent the whole evening talking about his kids and his ex wife from which he had clearly not recovered.
The following morning, when Charlie pulled up outside her flat, she appeared at the door, in her dressing gown, looking dreadful. It seemed she had been ill all night with some sort of bug. He wished her better and got on his way, but the journey dragged. The traffic jams and other people's driving really irritated him and he realised how much he missed having Rita in the car with him. She was off work for another couple of days and he began to think seriously about his relationship with her. Trouble was, he was not very good at romantic speeches and he wasn't at all sure how she might feel.
A few more weeks passed and they settled back into their comfortable companionship. Charlie couldn't find the nerve to say anything and he didn't want to spoil the friendship they had.
Unknown to him, Rita had begun to realise how much she depended on Charlie and how much she enjoyed the journeys to work. The company sent Charlie away on a course for a week and she had to use her old car to get to work. It made her realise that it was his presence that made the journey bearable and wondered if he felt the same about her.
Once he had returned from his course and their daily journeys had settled back into routine, neither of them would do anything about moving the relationship on and things would have gone on like that for a long time except that nature or perhaps 'the call of nature' intervened.
It was a Friday morning and they were nearing the Potters Bar slip road off the M25 when there was an extremely serious traffic jam. They had been sitting still on the motorway for at least three quarters of an hour and Rita began to fidget. Charlie asked her what was the matter and she admitted that she was desperate to go to the toilet. There were some trees and bushes nearby and he had already moved into the inside lane so she dived out of the car while the traffic was at a standstill, crossed the hard shoulder, climbed a shallow embankment and disappeared behind a bush. At that moment the traffic started to move again.
Charlie kept an eye on his mirror to see if she was coming back, and moved forward very slowly much to the annoyance of other motorists. Suddenly she appeared adjusting her clothing as best she could, caught up with him, and dived, red faced and breathless, back into the car. Charlie heaved a sigh of relief as the traffic moved on a little but then once again came to a complete halt.
Rita was full of apologies and nervously tried to tidy herself. Out of his frustration, Charlie sighed 'You know it would make a lot more sense if we were both living in Potters Bar instead of doing this damned journey every day.'
Rita stared at him with her mouth half open, and then, 'I'm not sure what you mean,' she said rather lamely.
'Well we could either 'live in sin' as my mother would have said, or we could get married if you like. What do you think?'
She gasped. 'Charlie Adams, we are in the middle of the M25 in a rotten traffic jam and you have chosen this moment to propose to me!'
'Well I could hardly go down on one knee could I?'
Silence. The traffic moved on a little. Charlie risked a sideways glance at her. She was deep in thought. His heart was racing. What had he done?
Then . . .
'Let's start looking for a flat in Potters Bar,' she gave an embarrassed giggle. 'then to make up for your very unromantic proposal, you can carry me over the threshold.'