Val McDermid - Northanger Abbey

Cat nodded politely, hiding the fervent hope that he would not indeed get started on those perplexing matters. ‘It looks very smart.’

‘And you know what I paid? Three grand less than the list price. Three grand! Amazing, no? She’s the perfect car for me. In the City, success is ninety per cent front and ten per cent balls. And this beauty makes a statement about me. She lets people know I’m a man to be reckoned with. She was built for a Christ Church man, to his spec. But I heard he’d been a bit too flash with his cash so he was looking to offload her for readies. I ran into him in that Slovakian cocktail bar up near Hilda’s and he goes, “Johnny, Johnny, my man, do you know anybody who might be interested in the best car in Oxford? Only, I need to realise her capital value sharpish.” Now, I’d just had a spot of luck at the casino, so I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Et voilà .’

‘I don’t know much about cars, but it looks like you got a bargain.’

John gave a smug little smile and patted his hair in a self-satisfied gesture. ‘A total bargain. But you know, I was helping the poor guy out. You need a favour, I’m your man. Always ready to do my bit.’

Before he could preen further, his sister exclaimed, ‘Johnny, there’s a traffic warden heading straight for us.’

‘Buggering barnacles,’ he swore, turning his back on them all and returning to the car, this time opening the door. ‘Come on, girls, get in!’

Cat hung back, looking dubiously at the shallow parcel shelf behind the two seats. But Bella grabbed her hand and together they clambered inelegantly into the rear of the car. They’d barely squeezed in when John stamped on the gas and shot down the hill in a throaty roar of exhaust. Cat and Bella clung to each other, shrieking.

At the first set of traffic lights, John resumed the conversation. ‘I could have sold it for four grand more the day after I bought it. Jacko Jackson from Oriel offered me cash on the nail the next day in the King’s Arms.’

‘Yeah, but you’re forgetting your parking permit was included,’ James pointed out.

‘Like I’d be dumb enough to sell my parking permit after the amount I had to bribe the college porter to get it in the first place. Duh.’ The lights changed so once more communication was rendered impossible.

Before long, another set of traffic signals brought them to a halt. ‘Do you like a rag top, Cat?’ John asked.

‘He means a convertible, Sis. With the top down.’

‘Oh. Well, this is my first experience, unless you count a quad bike. But yes, I can see it might be fun if you were in a proper seat and not in fear of spilling out the back every time you accelerate.’

John roared with laughter. ‘God, Jamie, you never told me she was so funny. Cat, I’m going to take you for a spin every day I’m here. With the top down.’

It wasn’t that thrilling a prospect to Cat. ‘There’s a forecast of rain tomorrow.’

‘We’ll dodge the raindrops. I’ll drive you up the coast for fish and chips.’

‘Won’t you want to take it easy after your long drive today?’

He laughed again. ‘Call that a long drive? That was just a warm-up. No, it’s a date. Fish and chips at North Berwick for lunch.’

‘Oh, me too, me too!’ Bella exclaimed.

‘Are you kidding? I didn’t come to Edinburgh to drive my sister around. Jamie, it’s up to you to amuse Bella.’

And again, conversation was stilled by acceleration as they drove out across the Dean Bridge and down Queensferry Road a way towards the flat where Mrs Thorpe and her daughters were staying, some little distance from the Book Festival and most of the venues of the Festival Fringe. The one advantage their accommodation had over the Allens’ apartment was that it lay just outside the city centre’s restricted parking zone, so all that was required to find a parking space was for John Thorpe to drive round the block three or four times.

As they walked back up the hill to the Thorpes’ flat, John fell into step beside Cat. Desperate to avoid another lecture on the subject of his splendid car, Cat cast about for something to say. Given that Bella was his sister, she reasoned that they might share some tastes in common. ‘Bella has introduced me to the Hebridean Harpies series of novels,’ she said.

‘Oh my good lord,’ he groaned. ‘Spare me! Not another one. I’ve had Bella wittering on about those bloody books for ever. I don’t have time to waste on novels, but if I did, it wouldn’t be them I’d choose. Vampires and banshees – I ask you. Those books are dumber than a deaf mute with a mouthful of superglue.’

The image was so singularly unpleasant that Cat could think of no immediate riposte. ‘So what do you read?’ was all she could manage.

‘Only what I have to for work,’ he said. ‘I don’t have time to read. How can you bear to read when there’s cars to race and dragons to slay?’ He imitated the movement of his hands on a console controller, making the revving, screeching and gunshot sounds of a computer game.

‘Surely it’s just as dumb to slay imaginary dragons and drive imaginary cars as it is to read Morag Fraser’s books?’ Cat demanded.

He snorted. ‘Obviously you’re not a gamer, sweetheart. What I do sharpens my reflexes and keeps me on top of my game. Reading those stupid books just fills your head full of nonsense.’

It was true that there had never been a games console in the Morland household. But Cat had been in other homes where the children had had apparently unlimited access to a staggering range of virtual experiences. And from those encounters, she dredged up something she hadn’t known till she’d looked up Hebridean Harpies on Wikipedia. ‘Do you play DragonSky ?’ she asked.

He nodded with enthusiasm. ‘I used to play it all the time. Not so much now that Felony Driver IV came out.’

‘Did you know that Morag Fraser was one of the writers on DragonSky ?’

Taken aback, he goggled at her. ‘I don’t see how,’ he said. ‘You sure she didn’t just make the credits for being somebody’s girlfriend or something?’

Before Cat could muster a response, Bella, who had been walking ahead with James, turned and pointed at the building where their flat occupied part of the second floor. ‘This is us, Johnny.’

Although she had begun to feel quite cross with John Thorpe, the warmth with which he greeted his mother and sisters restored Cat’s general spirit of goodwill. Even so, she was taken aback by the apparent rudeness of the banter the Thorpes exchanged with one another. ‘Ma, dearest,’ John said, hugging his mother so tight she squealed. ‘Where in the name of God did you get that hat? It makes you look like the Wicked Witch of the West.’

Martha Thorpe smacked him affectionately on the shoulder. ‘You are the worst boy in the world, turning up without warning.’

‘And where are the two ugly sisters?’ he called, bringing his siblings rushing from their bedroom to perform the same whooping dance he’d earlier conducted with Bella. However brutal it all seemed compared to Morland family life, it appeared to please the Thorpes.

‘You’ve put on weight, fatso,’ Jessica said.

‘And you’ve got five more zits on your nose,’ her brother riposted. ‘Ma, have you got a washing machine here?’

Martha sighed. ‘You’ve brought your washing, haven’t you?’

‘Clever girl,’ John said. ‘You guessed. I’ll bring it up later. But look, Ma, see who I’ve brought with me.’ And he hauled James, blushing, into the ring of Thorpe women. ‘You can squeeze us in here, can’t you?’

Martha looked doubtful. ‘I don’t know where.’

‘Oh, Ma, you can sleep on the sofa, and Jamie and I will share your bed,’ John said with the cavalier ease of a man who has never had to pay the piper. ‘Now, Jamie, sit yourself down and Ma will get us a coffee to revive us after our drive.’ And he was off again, regaling the company with a paean of praise to his new car.