37
The taxi has barely reached the speed limit as it heads along the road. Traffic has been horrendous, with endless delays and red lights.
“Come on,” I say under my breath to a slow-moving bus in front. “Move your stupid arse.”
“Got any plans for the weekend, love?” the driver asks.
“No,” I reply with haste, as if somehow answering him is wasting precious time. “Do you know any short-cuts to Barlow Street? I’m in a huge rush.”
The driver shakes his head. “Sorry, love. We’re on the quickest route. Not sure why it’s so busy. Maybe something to do with this new curfew. People making the most of the daytime hours.”
I groan in frustration, and then rest my head against the window.
I think of Sean. I try not to, but it’s impossible to shake off the things he said.
Have I lost him for go
