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CHAPTER THREE

Sharon Gets a Puncture

‘Bloody hell!’ Sharon Bryne swore as the steering wheel of the Polo shuddered and then became heavy between her hands. (She had wanted a Golf but her Daddy wouldn’t rise to it. The old meanie.)

She had a puncture.

Of all the days!

Sharon had been driving down Monkstown Avenue in a thick stream of traffic. She heaved at the steering wheel to get the car neatly into the kerb. She glared at the furious face of the Beemer driver who passed her making rude finger signs. All right, so she hadn’t indicated. Big deal. She stuck out her tongue at him as she put on her flashers.

One by one, the honking cars swerved out and drove past her. Calm down, Sharon, she said to herself. Just ring the AA first. Then ring Jackie and tell her you’ll be there as quickly as you can.

Thank God for mobiles, she thought.

Making sure she did not break her fingernail, she carefully tapped in the AA breakdown number. She always kept it safely taped to the dashboard of the Polo. She was kept waiting, of course. She had to listen to bloody Enya. What was it about Enya? She was everywhere. Poodle music, Sharon called it. Sharon herself was into heavier music, like Blur.

After what seemed like a week, the AA woman came on. Took the details. Then – disaster! The wait would be an hour or probably more.

‘An hour?’ Sharon couldn’t believe it. This was an emergency. She tried to explain to the woman how much of an emergency this was. But the woman explained back to her that because this was a Bank Holiday Friday, there was murder on the roads. She’d do her best, the woman said, but she couldn’t promise help sooner than an hour. Click. The woman was gone.

Sharon thought for a moment. Then tapped again on her mobile.

Damn! Daddy’s mobile was off.

It wasn’t fair. She just felt like getting out of the Polo altogether and walking away. She felt like crying. She nearly did, actually, but then she pulled herself together. Stop this, Sharon, she said sternly to herself. Don’t be such a baby. You’re in a grown-up job. Behave like a grown-up.

She frowned. Sharon Bryne was not going to be beaten by this. She tapped in Jackie’s number

‘Oh my God – !’ Jackie’s voice could barely be heard above the noise all around her. She was in the arrivals hall at the airport. ‘Sharon, you can’t do this to me. You just can’t. You have to come immediately. Get a taxi, all right? The company will pay. Just come now. You should be here already – ’ The connection was broken and Sharon was left holding the stupid dead mobile in her hand.

This was dreadful. The silly woman was demanding that she should abandon the Polo? Just leave it here for robbers and lowlifes?

She took three deep breaths to calm herself down. Brigitte, who gave Sharon and her mother Ki-Massage, had taught the two of them how to slow the body down. It always worked. After the third breath, Sharon was no longer upset.

She tapped in Daddy’s mobile number again. Still off.

All right. She was on her own here. She would leave the Polo and get a taxi. But first she would ring AA and tell them they’d have to tow it for her to a garage. They’d do that. They’d have to. Sharon’s family paid squillions to them every year for the very top cover.

Twenty minutes later, Sharon was driven in her taxi past the Frascati Shopping Centre. She was quite pleased with how she had handled matters. She saw she was clutching her clipboard as though it was a life-belt. Tension. Brigitte certainly would not have approved of that! So Sharon took three more deep breaths and settled back in her seat for the ride to the airport. She wouldn’t think any negative thoughts. The Polo would be fine. She had put the light around it as Brigitte had taught her.

She didn’t remember that she had left a file on the Polo’s back seat.