Testing Times

After the squealing brakes and shredded nerves, would she make the grade?

Coffee Break Tale

Stop,” I screamed as my foot pressed the imaginary brake to the floor. She was heading straight through the roundabout without even looking and there was a lorry hurtling towards us – the speed of his approach suggesting he wouldn’t be stopping any time soon.

I closed my eyes, anticipating the crunch of metal on metal – and I felt the car jolt to a stop.

Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for what I’d find.

Perhaps I’d see our bodies lying in a tangled mess of metal, as some sort of “life after death” experience. “Are you OK?” She sounded normal. Carefully, I forced one eyelid up. All seemed fine. I opened both eyes properly and looked around. There was no scene of carnage. No angry lorry driver glaring through our window.

She’d managed to stop a short way over the white line. Only inches away from calamity. “You’ve gone ever so pale,” she said. “I’m fine.” My voice was strained, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Cars from behind were starting to work their way around us. Thankfully they were being kind. If it wasn’t for the L-plates I’m sure there would have been much angry hooting.

“We need to get off this roundabout,” I suggested, my forced smile hopefully disguising my feelings of nausea.

“How did it go?” Dylan asked when I arrived home.

“I’m alive,” I told him. “But only just.”

He grinned. “I’m sure she appreciates the extra practice. And her test’s tomorrow so you won’t need to take her out again.”

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t count chickens.” He winced. “She’s still that bad?” “Afraid so.” “What does she think?” “She’s very positive. Got me to drop her in town so she could buy something nice to wear for the test.”

Dylan shook his head. “She’ll never pass just because of a short skirt.”

That was true. But she might have stood a chance if she could have bought nerves of steel for the examiner.

Dylan and I drove in secret to the test centre, and we waited in the car for her to arrive with her instructor. “Look, here she comes.” She was dressed to kill as she and the instructor got out of the driving school car. They went into the test centre and it seemed ages before she emerged with the examiner and got in the car.

“She’s stalled,” Dylan told me, appalled. She hadn’t even managed to leave the car park.

She eventually made it out and we sat in nervous anticipation, waiting for the car to come back. Eventually I broke the silence.

“I don’t think we should be here. It’s as though we’re spying.”

“If she drives as badly as she normally does, she’ll be upset. She’ll need us.”

“Look,” I whispered, pointing to the car park entrance. “She’s back.”

We waited as she spoke to her instructor. I couldn’t see her expression, but as I got out of the car she glanced over and shook her head.

I bit back a sigh of relief – there was no way she was ready to be on the public highway unsupervised. “Never mind.” I hugged her as she joined us. “There’s always next time – or maybe you could try lessons from a professional instructor…”

“I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. “Maybe driving isn’t for me.” I wasn’t going to argue with that. “You only have to ring me if you need to go anywhere,” I told her. “As long as I’m not working I’m happy to take you.”

“Thank you, Tanya.” And my mum gave me a watery smile. I smiled back and squeezed her arm.

“And it won’t be long before I can give you lifts, Gran,” Dylan added. “My provisional arrived this morning.”

I stared helplessly atmy teenage son andmy smile froze.