Christmas at the Marshmallow Cafe

5. On the Road-2

An hour later they were heading north through gradually thinning traffic. Debbie, wearing a smug grin after collecting her dole cheque far more quickly than usual, and managing to escape with an offhand ‘I’ve been applying for jobs,’ rather than be submitted to the usual interrogation, pointed at a service area sign.

‘There,’ she said. ‘Mickey D’s. I need breakie.’

‘I thought you didn’t do corporations?’

Debbie shrugged. ‘I make exceptions for food. The taste alone is punishment enough.’

Bonnie pulled off the motorway and into the service area. While she couldn’t quite face the same stack of hamburgers Debbie procured from MacDonald’s, she felt a little better after a couple of sandwiches from a bakery. Sitting in a communal restaurant seating area, she finished her sandwich and sighed.

‘I’m getting too old for this. This is what young people do.’

Debbie shrugged. ‘You can consider it kidnap if it makes you feel better.’

‘I suppose being kidn*pped by a vampire is definitely something for the bucket list.’

Debbie stuffed one last hamburger into her mouth, manipulating it to get the whole thing inside at once. Bonnie stared at the figure squeezed into the leather tunic. There were fashion models more overweight than Debbie. With a smile she gave a bemused shake of the head.

Behind them, a chair scraped as a group of three lads got up. All designer jumpers and Men’s Health haircuts, they looked on their way to an audition for Love Island. One of them glanced over his shoulder and noticed Bonnie and Debbie sitting nearby.

‘Hey, Sharon Osborne!’ he called, as the others laughed. ‘Can you sign my bum cheek?’

Debbie, still chewing around a hamburger, glared at him. ‘I’ll sign it with a rusty harpoon,’ she shouted.

‘Ooh,’ the first lad said, as the others laughed again. ‘Hey, Grandma, better tie your dog up to your wheelchair.’

Debbie grabbed a plate and lifted it like a frizbee. ‘I keep human heads as prizes,’ she snapped, shaping to throw. Clearly alarmed, the lads backed away through the tables, their laughter turned nervous. Debbie, a snarl on her face, held the pose until they’d headed back out into the car park.

‘I bet your mum feels safe with you around,’ Bonnie said. ‘Better than a guard dog.’

Debbie sat back down. ‘I could have taken them,’ she said. ‘I was school discus champion.’

Bonnie lifted an eyebrow. ‘For once, you surprise me. You, doing sports?’

‘I mended the error of my ways after I bought my first Sabbath album,’ Debbie said.

‘So you considered being called Sharon Osborne a compliment?’

Debbie scowled. ‘She’s about nine hundred years old.’

‘From the look of you, you could be too.’

Debbie rolled her eyes. ‘Come on, Grandma. Let’s get back on the road.’