The Right Time (17 page)

The lights turned green and the horns started up again. Car engines revved aggressively as their drivers pulled out and around her, still sounding their horns, and worse, shouting abuse from the windows. She had to do something. She was stuck in a lane in the middle of a main road; she couldn't move the car out of the way if she couldn't even get the damn thing to start. She couldn't even get out and open the hood, it was too dangerous with cars whizzing by her in both directions. The lights turned red again, and in her rear-view mirror she could see the cars barrelling up behind her, screeching to a halt and inevitably blaring their horns. Ellen
could feel her throat tightening, her eyes beginning to sting. Get a grip. What to do . . . what to do . . . Of course, she had to call road service. She fumbled for her phone in her bag, but once she found it and flipped it open, her fingers instinctively scrolled for Tim's number. She pressed it automatically. She knew he couldn't do anything about her immediate predicament, but she could get him to pick up Sam at least, and that would be one less thing she'd have to worry about. And besides, she always called Tim first, somehow sharing the problem would make it easier to deal with.

He picked up. ‘Hello?'

‘It's me, Ellen,' she snapped. Didn't he even look at the screen first?

‘Oh, hi.'

‘I've broken down. I'm in the middle of that big intersection on Burwood Road, and the car just died.'

‘What's wrong with it?'

‘How the hell should I know?'

‘Did it overheat?'

‘No, nothing happened, it just refuses to start.'

‘Do you think it could be a flat battery?'

‘How the hell should I know?' she repeated.

There was silence for a moment. ‘Well, I don't know what I can do –'

‘Can you go pick up Sam, please? He's waiting for me, and God knows how long this is going to take. I'll have to ring road service.'

‘Yeah, you should ring them right away,' he said. ‘But I can't pick up Sam, you better call him as soon as you get on to road service.'

The lights had turned green again, and the horns started up. What was wrong with these people? Couldn't they see her hazard lights flashing? ‘What do you mean you can't pick up Sam?'

‘I just can't . . . I'm not in the area.'

‘Well, neither am I, obviously. You've got your car, haven't you?'

‘Yeah, but . . . I'm way over at the northern beaches, it'd take me an hour at least to get back there. And I can't really leave anyway.'

‘Why, what are you doing?'

There was a pause. ‘I'm just out, okay? I'm with . . . friends. It's not my weekend, Ellen, I'm not on call.'

What the fuck?

‘Tim, this is an emergency, I'm stranded, and so is your son right now.'

‘I get that, Ellen,' he said tightly. ‘But there's nothing I can do, I'm too far away. If you want, I'll call Sam and tell him what's happening, and that he should make his own way home.'

‘Oh, don't put yourself out for us,' she sneered, and she snapped her phone shut. Bastard. What was he doing that was so friggin' important that he couldn't leave it to pick up his son? Is this how things were going to be now?
Jesus Christ!
She was trembling, and once again the lights were turning green and cars were trundling up her backside, sounding their horns.

She fumbled in her wallet for her road service card and plucked it out. She punched in the number on her phone and an operator answered, demanding all the basic information before Ellen could get a word in. Finally, after she had her membership and registration, the operator asked her what the problem was.

‘I have no idea. My car has stopped dead in the middle of an intersection and I'm holding up traffic and I can't move, I can't even get out. Someone has to come right away!'

‘Of course, ma'am,' the operator replied. ‘You can't start the car?'

‘No, that's what I said!'

‘And you're on your own?'

‘Yes.' In every way imaginable.

‘It's okay, I'll put you on top priority, just tell me exactly where you are.'

Ellen wanted to cry, someone was finally taking her predicament seriously. The operator took the details and reassured her that a patrolman would be there asap. And though it took only ten minutes, it felt like she spent another hour waving traffic past her while the horns sounded louder and angrier.

So where the hell was Tim? They didn't know anyone over on the northern beaches. Who were these ‘friends'? How come he suddenly had a life? She used to have to virtually put a bomb
under him to get him to do anything on the weekends, and now his social life was so busy he couldn't take time out to pick up his son?

Oh, bugger, she hadn't called Sam yet. She flicked open her phone and scrolled for his number. Please have your phone on! He picked up straight away.

‘Hi Mum, where are you?'

‘Sorry, Sam, the car's broken down, I'm stranded.'

‘Bummer.'

‘I'm waiting for roadside service, they promised they'd be quick but I don't know how long it's going to take once they get here. I called your father to come get you, but apparently he's too busy.'

‘S'okay Mum, I can get myself home.'

‘But do you even know what bus you have to catch?'

‘I'll figure it out. I'm sixteen, Mum.'

‘I don't understand what's going on with your father. What's so important that he couldn't leave –'

‘I better go, I don't want to miss the next bus.'

‘Okay, just keep in touch, let me know if you get stuck somewhere, if you're going to have to wait a long time.'

‘What are you going to be able to do about it?'

‘I don't know, maybe I'll be on my way by then. Just keep in touch, okay? And please message me as soon as you get home if you haven't heard from me already.'

Finally Ellen spotted the road service van pulling up behind her, all flashing lights and fluoro stripes. Thank God. Maybe the horns would stop now. The patrolman emerged from the driver's door and edged up to her window, keeping close to the side of the car.

‘Hi there, you're in a spot of bother, love. What seems to be the problem?'

Ellen promptly burst into tears.

‘Hey, come on now, it's okay, we'll get you out of this.'

He managed to get a blubbering account from Ellen of what had happened, and then he asked her to open the hood. She flicked the lever under the seat and he walked around to the front of the car, lifting the hood and disappearing from view. Ellen
wiped her eyes with a tissue and blew her nose. She was mortified. She wasn't one of those women who fell apart, crying to total strangers. What was happening to her?

She was feeling abandoned and alone, and she just wanted someone to fix it up and make it all better. She was sick of having to be strong, and responsible, and resilient. It was hard and it was tiring and she'd had enough. She wanted someone to look after her for a change.

The repairman got her to try the engine a couple of times, and although it sputtered into life once, it didn't sustain it. He came back to her window.

‘Listen love, I have to get you off this intersection,' he said. ‘So I'm going to have to rope tow you around the corner and into that parking lot. See it, over there?' he asked, pointing down the cross-street.

Ellen nodded. ‘But I'm not sure how . . .'

‘It's okay, we'll take it nice and easy,' he reassured her. ‘You just have to make sure you brake whenever I do.'

‘But I have power brakes. They won't work without the engine, will they?'

‘You'll have to use your handbrake.'

‘Seriously?' she said in a weak voice.

‘It'll be all right, I'll take it very gradually. Your steering'll also be heavy, but you'll manage. It's only one wide sweep and we'll be around the corner. You can do it.'

It took some time as he waited for a sufficient break in the traffic so that he could manoeuvre the van around her car, and then reverse in front of her, and finally attach the winch. He came to her window and went over the procedure again, before returning to the van. Then they waited for the next light change.

Ellen's heart was in her mouth as he advanced slowly through the intersection, pulling the hatchback along behind him. She kept her hand on the handbrake, but she was shaking, barely breathing, terrified. She willed herself to focus. She had to have both hands on the steering wheel as they turned, it was so stiff and heavy. But they made it into the parking lot safely, and he came to a slow, gentle stop, giving her ample time to ease on the handbrake.

He jumped out of his van and came over to open her door. ‘See, that wasn't so hard, was it? You did great! Why don't you get out now and stretch your legs, I'll take it from here.'

Ellen stepped away from the car and left him to it. She didn't know anything about cars, there was no point hovering anxiously over his shoulder. She realised she hadn't heard from Sam so she gave him a call.

‘I'm just getting off the bus now, Mum, it's all good,' he reported.

‘Have you got your key? I think your sister has late classes.'

‘Yeah, I've got my key. When will you be home?'

‘Your guess is as good as mine, mate. The repairman doesn't seem to be having much luck, I'm afraid.'

‘Jeez, what's going to happen?'

‘I don't know, but don't worry, I'll be all right. I'll let you know as soon as I know something.'

She hung up as the man approached her, wiping his hands on a rag.

‘It's not looking good, Ms . . . ah . . .'

‘Cosgrove, actually it's Ellen.'

‘Ray,' he said with a nod. ‘I don't know what's up, Ellen. It's behaving like it's overheated, but the radiator's full. There could be a blockage further along in the pipes, but even if I could get it started, I wouldn't want you driving it, you'll risk blowing the gasket.'

Ellen rubbed her forehead. ‘So it'll have to be towed?' she said with a resigned sigh.

‘'Fraid so,' he confirmed. ‘Where's your regular mechanic?'

‘Down in Sydenham, we live in Petersham.'

He stroked his beard, thinking.

‘Is that too far to tow it?' she asked.

‘Oh no, it still should be inside the free tow zone. But this time of day,' he shook his head, ‘it's gunna take a while. Can you give him a call?'

‘Oh, um, well I don't have his number on me,' said Ellen. ‘God, I can't even think what the name of the place is.'

‘Don't worry, as long as you can direct the tow-truck driver, and even if it's closed, you can still have it towed there,' he assured
her. ‘Just lock it up, then take the key around tomorrow and explain the whole deal.'

Ellen wondered how she was going to do that without a car.

‘Or look, there is an approved repairer not far from here, just up in Five Dock on the other side of Parramatta Road. He's a good bloke, he'll sort it out, and you can still have it towed back to your mechanic after you get his quote if you want.' He glanced at his watch. ‘I've got his number, I can give him a call so he waits around, and I can explain everything to him as well.'

That sounded preferable to Ellen, so the calls were made and Ray bid her goodbye and good luck. She sat it out in the car, waiting for the tow-truck driver, fielding calls from Sam about what there was to eat –

‘I don't know, Sam, look in the fridge.'

‘I am.'

‘Well then, you can see better than me. Figure it out.'

– and Kate when she arrived home -

‘What's going on? When will you be home?'

‘I don't know. I'm waiting for a tow.'

‘I was hoping to use the car tonight. Sarah and I were going to the movies.'

‘Well, that's not going to happen.'

‘What am I supposed to do?'

‘Figure it out.'

– and finally a text from Tim –

What's happening? Is everything ok?

Ellen was tempted to reply ‘Fuck you', but decided against it. She sat for a moment, thinking about how to answer. Then she decided, screw it, he could call if he was that concerned.

The tow truck turned up eventually, and the driver promptly hoisted the car up ready to go. Ellen took a seat in the cabin and made awkward small talk for the short drive.

‘Finn's a good bloke,' he told her. ‘He'll get you sorted.'

‘Who's Finn?'

‘The mechanic I'm taking you to,' he said. ‘Top bloke. You're in good hands.'

When they arrived at the garage, Ellen got out of the truck and out of the way, while the driver and the mechanic – ‘Finn',
she assumed – proceeded with the complicated manoeuvres to unload the car into position. She walked across to the small office and waited at the door. This was not one of the big chain service stations – there were a couple of petrol pumps, but set back as it was in an industrial area, petrol was obviously not his main trade. This was an old-school garage, which Ellen hoped was a good thing.

Finally the tow-truck driver gave her a wave and jumped into his truck. The mechanic strolled over to where Ellen was standing.

‘Not a great start to the weekend for you,' he remarked.

‘Do you know what's wrong with it?' she asked.

He smiled, scratching his head. ‘Ah, no, not without looking at it.' He indicated for her to walk through into the office ahead of him. ‘Let me get your details.'

Ellen stepped into the office, which was surprisingly neat. He walked around the counter and flipped open an appointment book.

‘I'll get your number, and I'll give you a call on Monday or Tuesday, let you know what's what.'

‘I beg your pardon?'