Ladyfingers ✶ POPE HEYWARD

𝟏, little miss runaway!

THE PAST FEW days had been hazzy dream for Tabitha, ever since leaving her home in Liverpool she hadn't stopped. From hotel to motel, one stranger's sofa to a deserted park bench, Tabitha had been getting severe back ache to say the least. Fortunately, she had stocked up on money before she had left — not only by doing extra shifts down at the chippy, but also maybe by stealing a few thousand quid out her dads bank.

     Currently spread across the back seat of the uber she had ordered, her denim jacket covering her shoulders and her feet warmed by fluffy socks, Tabitha had been pestering her driver ever since the four hour drive began. She lacked social interaction, although she wasn't the most outgoing, Tabitha felt like a hermitcrab with another fifteen shells obliterating her completely.
She had unfortunately had to give up most of her prettiest clothes, being cautious not rip or stain them on her voyage. Thus, Tabitha had merely packed her 1-5 pound clothes from the British Heart Foundation down the road.

     Clearing her throat awkwardly, Tabitha attempted to strike a conversation. "So, you been driving around long?"

     The man looked through the mirror and shrugged his shoulders, "A few years or so."

     Nodding, Tabitha pursed her lips and settled back down against the uncomfortable car door.

     "Where are you off to, anyways?" the driver asked, eyes trained on the busy road ahead of them. "I mean, you seem quite young to be heading to an airport quite far away, concidering you're only in Liverpool I assumed—"

     "Just felt like it, eh?"

     "A'right. . . somebody's got a cob on." the driver rolled his eyes —not so—discretely. He was no older than her, perhaps by a few years, and he looked like a man who's name was Gareth and was already on his third divorce, single dad with three girls and heads down the pub to unleash his anger out on his favourite football teams loss. . . too specific?

     "You runnin' away?"

     "I shouldn't have even tried to talk to ya'." Tabitha grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

     "Don't worry, li'l miss runaway, I won't say a word—" Here comes the 'but' . . . "—But—" There we go, "If i'm offered some large amount of goodies, yeah, than you are sold. M'kay?"

     Tabitha simply mumbled in reply.

     The following three and a half hours of the journey was silent and awkward, the dreadful voice of Jess Glyne blaring through the static radio. Her thoughts cramming you to the top of her cranium, Tabitha couldn't help but wonder what her new life would be like. Would she camp out under stars under the mundane moonlight when the scorching sun takes its rest? Or, would she freeze to death and The Outerbanks is a total scam full of human traffickers and foreigners who will sacrifice her to the sea Gods. . . Tabitha believes she's going insane now.

     Just out the window Tabitha can see a tunnel approaching, dark and dim just flickering with broken orange lights to brighten the windy road. With the air con shit and broken, she shrugs the jacket of her shoulders and opens the window, the fresh air flying right past her.

     "The bloody 'ell you doin'?" the driver asked with wide eyes, "Don't you dare jump out, I'm not calling the police for another fuckin' dead body."

     Tabitha ignored his quite concerning comment and propped herself up, her hands out the window as she slowly sticks her head out the window too.

     "Oh fuck this shit!" throwing herself back inside the vehicle, Tabitha winds the window back up and sorts out her now knotty and messy hair. Instant regret.

     "What was you thinkin', crazy!" the driver exclaims. "What's ya' name, by the way?" completely skipping past her previous actions.

     "Edie." she lies with no hesitation, doing the buttons back up on her jacket.

     "I'm Pat." he smiled.

     "Pat?" she pulled a face, looking at him through the mirror.

     Looking slightly offended, Pat nodded. "Pat."

     Snickering quietly, Tabitha nodded. "Okay, Postman Pat."

"Okay, Edie McCredie from bloody Balamory." clearly, Pat was very fed up with her. When out of the tunnel and further down the road onto a more local area, Pat pulled aside.

"Oi, the fuck you think you're doing?" Tabitha, well, Edie, screeched.

"Get out me car, I'm sick of yous!"

"No! I paid for this, you can't kick me out!" Tabitha scoffed, her anger boiling by the second.

"You're an annoying scallywag—" Tabitha couldn't even hold in her laughter, now this just got worst. "—Out!" he roared, "Get out of me car!"

With her green suitcase in one hand and her Ebay waterbottle in the other, Tabitha trudged down the path with an unhappy frown across her freckled face. She was quite a sight — with her large suitcase which was about to explode; her hair still messy and in the rattiest looking bun to ever exist; her clothes wrinkled and empty of colour; and her posture slouched over like an 90 year old man who plays the organ ( her Grandfather ).

A loud beep interrupted Tabitha from her miserable thoughts, and then appeared a Mini. But not any Mini, no, the type of Mini you'd see with your mum down at B&M Bargains and say; "What the fuck?"

Slowing down, the woman in a bright pink car with flashy eyelashes on the front lights stopped next to Tabitha with a friendly smile on her aging face.

"You alright, dear?" she questioned with her heavy London accent.

"Erm..." Tabitha learnt long ago she shouldn't talk to strangers, her dad always taught her to stay cautious to those around her. But she, young and so desperate to leave the cold country, had to ask; "Do you mind giving me a lift to the airport?"

And that's how Tabitha found herself singing along to 'Don't Look Back In Anger' by Oasis with fourty-four year old nail artist, Diane Lane. Tabitha learnt over those five minutes that; 1) Diane just divorced her second husband and is going to go live with her now girlfriend, Nicki, down in Birmingham; 2) Diane has an obsession with Paul Dano.

"Alright lovely, we've arrived at Birmingham airport." the music drowned out, just as Parklife by Blur began to rumble the small car. "I do hope you have a safe travel, and have a lovely flight. Hope you get back to your parents safe and all."

If only you knew, Diane.

"Thank you incredible amounts, honestly." Tabitha repeated for the hundredth time as they unloaded her case from the trunk.

"Honestly, it's so fine — now, you've got my number and house phone down in your little notebook so don't be shy to give us a ring now." Diane pulled Tabitha in for an unexpected hug, rubbing her back.

"Thank you, Diane!" in response, Diane honked the horn twice as her pink Mini drove off into the distance.

Now, standing before her was the giant Birmingham airport — good Lord, now what was the next step?