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Welcome to Tony Holkham's website.
This is one of my stories. Go to fiction for
more, or home for everything else. "I do hope this one's okay," she sighed. "When we finally get one, I never want to look at another car again." Hugh could do no more than grunt - every scrap of his concentration was directed through the small patch of snow-free screen. She didn't seem to mind his taciturnity. "One rust heap after another, and now this weather. Fiona rang me today, especially to tell me to be careful. 'Louise,' she said, 'it's going to snow today - you'd better stay at home,' but we couldn't, I told her. One more day with this hire car and we'll be in for another week's rental." "Here it is," he said sharply, nudging the car into a slow lefthand slide to negotiate the gateway which loomed out of the blizzard. They stopped in front of a large house - no other details were distinguishable - and stepped gingerly out. The snow was already an inch thick and they slithered and staggered to the front door. Deep within the house a bell sounded, but it was several minutes before a chain rattled on the other side of the door. A pale face peered at them. A thin voice asked: "Have you come to see the car?" "Indeed," said Hugh, briskly, rubbing his hands together. "Can we come in?" "Lord bless you!" said the old woman, "it's not in here. It's in the garage." She pushed the door almost shut. "I'll get my husband and my coat. Don't go away!" Louise tutted loudly. The wind had penetrated even her sheepskin coat, making her tremble. The old woman soon returned. Her husband, silent and seemingly twice as old as her, beckoned them to follow him. Keeping to the lee of the house, they approached a lean-to which looked as if it had been there longer than the house. Inside, Louise had to look twice. There in the middle of the shed stood the shiniest car she had ever seen. She noticed that before she noticed the warmth. A small gas stove stood near each of the four wings like guards around a coffin. High hid the excitement which wanted him to throw off his coat and dance around the vehicle. Instead he stepped heavily around it, making noises in his throat. He opened the driver's door, knowing it would be the same inside. It was. Then he looked at the milometer. He stood up so quickly he banged his head sharply on the doorframe, and Louise ran to him. Under cover of her ministrations he muttered: "This car's done no mileage! Not one mile!" The old woman chuckled. "We couldn't bear to. You see, all through our married life - the first twenty years - we couldn't have one. When we finally did, we couldn't bear to treat it the way others do. So we kept it here. And the longer we kept it, the less we felt we could take it out. It has been here for thirty years or more. Percy starts it every day, and never missed one yet." Her smile twisted this way and that in the flickering lamplight. Hugh tried to find his voice. When he did it grated, and he coughed. "Why are you selling it? We would drive it, of course. We need a car to use. It's no good," he added miserably to his wife, "we couldn't afford it anyway. This... this is a museum piece." Louise had recovered her astonishment at the vehicle. She was the real Louise now, hard-working, hard-bargaining Louise. "How much do you want for it?" She laughed. "On the phone, the line was so bad I thought you said it was free." The laugh echoed eerily. The old man spoke for the first time. "Young lady," he said, his voice sounding like a young man imitating an old, "I said it was free. We don't want a penny. Just so long as you look after her." She held his gaze until Hugh protested, and she turned on him and hushed him. "Can we take it now?" The old man shrugged. "Of course, but the blizzard..." "Hugh is used to driving in the snow," she said nonchalantly. "What about the documents?" "All in order, and in the glove compartment." Hugh put a staying hand on his wife's arm. "We must let you have something. The price you paid for it even, though it can't have been much." The old woman shook her head. "Take it and go. This will be distressing for us, you understand, so we will open the shed doors an then go straight indoors." There was already a sparkle in the corner of her eye as the doors swung wide. Hugh gave Louise his keys: "You go first. Drive carefully." He started the veteran and let the revs climb slowly while Louise crept away towards the road in the hire car. He was about to engage the gears when the old man's face appeared at the window. "I almost forgot," he said quietly. "Here are the spare keys. The oval one is for the tailgate." "Thanks." Hugh sniffed, hesitating. "Look, I feel terribly guilty about this, not paying I mean. "Your wife said you had no children. People who have no kids need some excitement in their lives. This car will bring you happiness as it did us." Hugh stared into the brown eyes. "I don't understand. You never drove it..." "Go," said the old man, almost sharply. "The night is coming. Look after our baby." He turned his face away. Hugh slipped the clutch and glided throatily down the drive. He looked back, but the house was lost in the swirling snow and the lengthening shadows. = = = Louise opened the door in her coat, her face pale and strained. "Where have you been? I've been home half an hour. The phone's dead, line must be down. I was just coming to look for you." She all but dragged him inside. "I went back," he tried to explain, half shivering, half laughing. "The house wasn't there, I swear it wasn't. I searched and searched." "Why go back? I felt guilty, too, but they didn't need it. We need it." Hugh began to unbutton his coat. "No, it's not that. I heard this noise..." He began to laugh in earnest now, and she looked at his chest. "What... what have you got in your coat?" Louise reached out and undid another button and reached inside. Slowly she unwrapped the bundle, her face a picture. There was a movement, and warmth, and a murmer of sound. And a pair of large, blue eyes, like beacons in a storm. Louise held the infant as tightly as she dared, smiling distantly. "You couldn't find the house? Never mind, we'll have a look when the snow's gone, eh?"
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