Mum fastened the buckle on my seat belt, and kissed me. The baby seat

was hurting my bum. I looked across at Jack, already chained into his

torture chair. My twin brother wriggled and groaned.

We were visiting aunt Mary. She was so kind. Her kisses were too

sloppy and her clothes smelled of mothballs, but that didn't matter.

However, she lived far away and it took ages to get to her house.

We hate long journeys in the back seat of dad's bumpy car.

Off we go. How long before mum and dad start arguing? How long

before Jack gets carsick? How long...?

I must have fallen asleep. What woke me up? Noise.

A screech of brakes. Mum and dad yelling. Dad shouting out the window

using THAT swear word.

Jack's giggling, hand over his mouth, making that rude sign with his hands.

"Calm down," says mum."No harm done. Dad's just setting off again.

Aren't you, dear?"

The car engine starts. We're moving. Dad's chuntering to himself.

"I feel sick," says Jack. "I'm going to puke."

"Pull in dear," says mum.

Dad takes the Lord's name in vain. Miss Jones says that's a sin. Will dad

go to Hell?

The car stops. Mum helps Jack onto the roadside. I hear retching and

spitting.

Dad's tapping on the steering wheel.

Off we go. Jack is pale and quiet.

No!

"Mum! I need a wee-wee! Now!"

"Darling...," says mum.

We stop. Mum leads me to the verge. I'm desperate. I struggle to unzip

my pants. Too late. Gross. The wee-wee dribbles down my leg.

Mum cleans me up using a hanky and helps me back into the car seat.

What's dad doing? He's pacing up and down beside the car, smoking a

cigarette.

"I'm sure you're stressed," says mum "but you promised you would

never do that again."

Dad's face turns red, like a fire-breathing dragon.

A car zooms past, hooting. Dad jumps up and down, roaring. That really

bad swear word fills the air, along with a few others I haven't heard before,

but I'll try to remember.

After a few minutes dad seems calmer, and gets back behind the

wheel. We start again. Mum whispers:

"Have you been smoking secretly? That's so dis-sheep-ful."

That's what it sounded like. I didn't understand it. Dad did. He went silent

and the car speeded up.

"Slow down, dear, you're going too fast."

Dad said something angry. I couldn't hear it. Jack started to cry.

When I'm scared, like now, I fall asleep.

.....

Suddenly, I'm awake. Silence. The car travels smoothly. Better.

I look out the window. Not much to see. Empty fields. Dull sky. Boring.

Jack gives me the thumbs down. He's bored, too.

Then his face lights up. He gives me the secret sign we agreed to use if

we got really bored and the only fun thing left was to wind up mum and

dad.

Using our best whiny voices:

"Are we nearly there, yet?"