The Great Escape
by HAL
Copyright© 2025 by HAL
Fiction Story: The idea for this came to me when we really did pull into a very odd border station between Germany and France. My family are nothing like this, I just thought 'what if' and the started constructing it in my head.
Tags: Fiction
They pulled in to the petrol station cum cafe at the border. He had been driving for nearly three hours and she had said barely a word to him. They had left at 5am to drive across Europe to get the channel tunnel back to Britain and then drive home.
The argument had lasted until 2am; at which point he had turned over saying he had to get some sleep if he was to drive five hundred miles the next day. Her response had been to accuse him of running away from the argument “Like you always do. And anyway, I CAN drive too.” It was her way of escalating, and this time he did not respond. He had thought of replying that yes she could drive, but she wouldn’t; that she insisted to others that they shared the driving but in reality he always did most – the vast majority – of it. He tried to ignore the frozen atmosphere in the bedroom when the temperature was still twenty two degrees. He drifted off and got maybe two and a half hours sleep.
It wasn’t surprising that he’d missed the satnav instruction to switch motorways somewhere in Germany; so they had lost time in driving around Karlsruhr as the satnav gamely tried to get them back on the right road. She had said nothing, done nothing to help. Finally, when they joined a new motorway on a different route to Calais, she had simply commented “Did you change your mind about the route? I was looking forward to the scenery.” How that could be true when she had taken no interest in the route escaped him. No, no it didn’t mean that at all; he knew she was just twisting the knife a little. Making a poisonous point.
The plan had, ironically, been his. He had suggested that they hired a gite in France so daughter Molly and her husband and son could come across from Germany for a week. Their son could fly in from Oslo. Frank was between lovers, it seemed he was always between lovers but perhaps that was just because they were only told about them after the event. The plan had been a good one; everybody accepted. It soon became clear that the understanding of that plan differed. Frank informed when he would arrive an an airport seventy miles away and expected to be collected; he wasn’t badly paid, he could have hired a car or looked at public transport. His mother just said of course ‘they’ would collect him. Naturally she would be unable to go at the last minute, John knew that already.
Molly, Tim and ‘little Tim’ assumed it was an all expenses paid, no work type of holiday. Wife Mandy was always engaged in playing with lovely little Tim so John found himself in the kitchen much of the time. The truth was that by halfway through the time, he didn’t mind being out of it.
Lovely little Tim was, let’s be honest, a pain. Four years old and not willing to listen to anyone or do anything he didn’t want to. Bedtimes were screaming matches, bathtimes were worse. Cups and plates were thrown if he didn’t like his tea. John mildly suggested that they (‘they’ Ha!) could lose the security deposit to which everybody confidently suggested that ‘some things always get broken, it’s built into the price’.
John mildly suggested that saying “Don’t do that Timmy.” but never following that up when he ignored you was simply a way of letting him run riot. “Perhaps he needs the occasional firm hand. The occasional fence around his behaviour.” The atmosphere was icy for a day afterwards. Mandy took her daughter’s side (‘thanks Mandy’), Molly said little Tim was just high spirited. Father Tim was a useless, arrogant, unhelpful father who considered any house work beneath him (they had a cleaning lady from Turkey in their home in Germany), and clearly considered John a lesser man because he was retired from a less responsible job. Tim worked for a bank (not ‘in a bank’, he always said ‘for a bank’ like he was above simply dealing with customers – John enjoyed occasionally asking about Tim’s work in a bank, just to wind him up); John had worked as a primary school teacher which was apparently a lesser role in life. Nevertheless, when the sink got blocked, it was John who spent an hour taking off the U-bend, cleaning the muck out, and putting it all back. Tim said it was the landlord’s job, Molly insisted it wasn’t anybody’s fault that little Tim had stuffed strips of kitchen roll down the sink, Frank was nowhere to be found and Mandy took no notice. No-one said well done.
Frank arrived and told his mother she needed to take it easy; “Have a rest,” he said. “it’s your holiday too.” The same did not apply to John apparently, even though he did most of the cooking at home now.
The last guest – the dog – was not to blame for leaving hair everywhere. Shandy was a hairy creature who ought to be brushed regularly but wasn’t. John happily took the dog out to get away from his family. At first he told himself it was just to give the dog a good run, but by the end of the ten days he was being more honest with himself. He enjoyed the peace in the woods. Shandy liked John, he liked the smells in the woods, they got on well. If only Molly and Tim would vacuum the hair up sometimes.
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