Taming Sophie

C H A P T E R 1

She stared anxiously from the truck. She hadn't been the best travelling companion, indeed she had no intentions of initiating any conversation with the driver. He smelt of sweat, he hadn't shaved, and she was beginning to wish that she had stayed at the truck stop for a little while longer. The radio played a few of her more memorable songs, keeping her amused for a while before breaking into the headlines. Sophie fumbled nervously to find the button which would move the station to another, one without news. She felt the drivers, sweaty hand gently enfold around hers. "Let me do that for you miss." He grumbled.

Sophie pulled her hand away from his, she smiled nervously, trying to avoid eye contact.

"So, why Glasgow?" He asked, in an attempt to make conversation. Sophie, smiled a forced smile. "I have friends there, I haven't seen them for a while." She kept her answers to a minimum. The driver nodded, unheartedly and began singing along to a song.

Suddenly, the traffic started moving slower. Sophie feared a road block, or an accident, where she knew the police would be attending. She could feel the warm air from the heater blowing directly onto her wet jeans, her feet were soaked, the warm air was making her sleepy but she had to stay awake, she couldn't risk falling asleep. "Why are we slowing, mate?" She asked, pretending to be patient. She leaned forward from the huge, two seater seat, and peered at the road ahead. She couldn't quite see beyond a line of cars due to the slight bend in the road, each time the truck crawled another few yards, she peered again in an attempt to find out exactly what the hold up was. In the distance, she could hear the sound of an emergency siren, it made her stomach chum. She rubbed her hands nervously on her legs and tried to view in the drivers rear view mirror. Suddenly, a police car raced past her on the hard shoulder. Sophie couldn't rest, she opened the cab door, and lept out.

"Ol! Whatya doin'?" The driver crawled over and closed the door. Shouting something at her.

Sophie headed towards the fields, at least she could find cover in the trees if she needed it. She hoped that she wouldn't. It was 5:00 pm, clouds were gathering again and Sophie knew that she had to head for shelter. She could see the blockage on the motorway now, a lorry had overturned. The traffic went on behind it for miles, she rested and watched for a while. She could feel the wind blowing gently through her hair, it wasn't cold. She turned and looked around her at the empty, grassed fields which surrounded her. She felt so peaceful, she felt invisible. The bustle of the blocked motorway below her seemed a million miles away. Sophie brushed her long, brown hair from her face, and sat down, watching the collage of coloured cars below. She didn't want to be here, she wanted to be in that car. It was the red one, she wanted to be inside it, singing to the radio, laughing with her husband, turning and smiling to the children and the dog in the back. She wanted to be wearing a nice suit, with comfortable, sensible but expensive shoes. She wanted to be driving to her family home, where her husband would cook dinner for her in a large, built in kitchen, with expensive cooking utensils, and a nice breakfast bar, with fruit on it. She would eat proper food, nothing which said 'Instant' on it. There would be proper vegetables, not frozen. Maybe should could grow them in the garden, in a greenhouse. Her friends could come and sit with her 'on the patio' for tea. They would be nice friends, ones who went to the library and church, ones who volunteered for 'WRVS' or the local charity shop

Instead she faced the reality of going home to the smell of alcohol, the stench of stale urine coming from the lift area of her high rise flat. How could she have missed the heroine addicts living next door but one, and the creepy guy next to that, the one that hid most of the day and only ever spoke with hesitation. The same one who liked to hang around the local chip shop at night in the hope of tempting someone to offer him some spare change, spare change didn't exist in Glasgow, every penny was needed and well counted. She did miss those all night parties with her 'mates' racing to see who would be the first to pass out, whether it be due to the cheap lager or 'a wee line of smack' just to get the atmosphere right. She wanted to be in the red car.