Way out of town, chased out by miles of countryside, resided a small, homey town. It was quiet and concealed, insulated by valleys and a vast spread of farmland. Said farmland would be occupied by colourful crops and various animals, which no doubt entertained impatient children on long journeys. Behind many bends in the seemingly growing country road, one may come across one small and sheltered Newbury.
It was not a very widely visited town, however, it was widely known. It inhabited little people. Little, busy people. The diversity was slim, but it seemed to work with the simplicity of the small minded residents. On the outside it may not seem inviting but that only meant, to those wrapped up in the slow moving society, not alien to the ignorance, that there were no intruders. Nothing to stir the routine.
Following the robotic voice of the sat-nav, my driver and I slowly meandered our way down a small cul-de-sac tucked snugly behind a large housing estate. Judging by the extravagant exterior, one would make a sensible guess that these particular living quarters housed very wealthy families. Presumably, bland 2.4 families who spoke loudly, with a rehearsed nitpicked tongue, unnecessarily to boast false intelligence, looking down their noses to belittle others, not-so-subtly. On the other side, a single basic four-walled building police station intimidated pedestrians. It was a strong contrast; the singular grey stone structure looming over the brightly coloured brick cottages. It didn't seem to dampen the warm setting, no matter how much it stuck out.
My driver, Pin, had had responsibility over me since I mustered up the money to give it to him, at sixteen years of age. Nobody seemed to question where he or the money had come from until it was too late. He hasn't let a single lawyer or police officer touch me since that day and has obeyed me just as well as I have obeyed him.
Eight years on and we have become less of a team and closer to being one person. Working systematically to get about our business without stirring up anybody else's. And we've been neutrally comfortable with that for terms.
Pin pulled our car to a painful halt. The seatbelt cut into my neck, hugging me tightly to my seat. He gave no explanation, instead waving a gloved hand to the still moving cars as a courteous apology. He didn't keep it hidden that he felt no sympathy toward the other drivers. In his current situation, he could only find space to fill himself with self pity. Understandably.
This side of the country was unfamiliar to me. The large man beside me seemed to lack much sense of direction also, so briefly stepped outside of the vehicle to investigate the area. His memory was not as accurate as one might expect. As he opened his door, the exciting aroma of salted chips and seasoned chicken wafted into the cab. We had passed multiple fast food restaurants on our way here, and it was making me feel more and more empty by the second. I kept my posture, however, as my companion returned and started the car back up. We followed a few more street signs down the little lane until we found the entrance to the police station car park.
