said, bursting into tears.
Valerie put her hand on the dashboard to steady herself. âYou havenât driven on a motorway before?â She sounded horrified.
âNoâ¦â I snivelled.
âI am not confident in your driving ability, Iâm afraid, Poppy. This is absolutely unacceptable,â said Valerie.
âWell, we canât stay here,â said Nick. âIâm not insured. I canât drive.â
âI will not be driven by Poppy,â said Valerie firmly.
I grabbed my phone and jumped out of the car, trying to sniff back tears. I scanned the call sheet for phone numbers. I tried scary Shannon but she didnât answer, so I dialled the Last Clan Standing production office up in Scotland, praying someone would pick up.
âHello?â I sniffed.
âHello, Last Clan Standing , Rhidian speaking.â
Oh great.
âWhat are you doing up there?â I asked.
âPoppy? Hi. Oh they flew me up yesterday to help. Itâs unbelievable, you should see the games theyâve built here, itâs huge⦠Are you okay?â
âNo, no⦠Iâm not okay,â I sobbed.
âPoppy, whatâs wrong? Where are you?â
âI, I⦠I was supposed to drive a cameraman and Valerie Decouz up to Scotland as a last-minute change of plan, but I havenât really driven for ages and⦠andâ¦â I choked back a sob. âValerie says sheâs not confident in my ability and doesnât want me driving, and weâre on the hard shoulder of the M1 and I donât know what to do!â The last words were lost in a wail.
âOkay, okay, calm down,â said Rhidian. âDonât worry, weâll sort it out. Is anyone else with you in the car?â
âNick Hill, the cameraman, but heâs not insured.â
I was starting to feel calmer. For some reason Rhidianâs voice was reassuring me that this situation might be fixable.
âOkay, listen, you get Nickâs driving licence details for me and Iâll call the car hire company and get him on the insurance. Donât worry, Poppy, weâll sort this out.â
Twenty minutes later, Nick was driving us off the hard shoulder. He was not happy about it, grumbling that he had work to do and âwhatâs TV come to when you have to drive yourself to a shootâ. Valerie hadnât said a word since her earlier pronouncement that she refused to be driven by me. I sank into the back seat, cursing the fact that I hadnât taken that extra motorway driving post-test lesson my instructor had recommended. I think I spent the thirty-seven pounds I saved on a pair of really uncomfortable pleather clogs. Damn those bloody clogs.
We drove in silence for a few miles, me primarily thinking clog-related thoughts, when a phone started to ring. Mine â Iâd plugged it back into the carâs phone system to charge. It flashed up on the dashboard screen: UNKNOWN NUMBER.
âWant me to answer that?â asked Nick.
It was probably Shannon calling me back. I couldnât reach my phone to unplug it, so Iâd just tell whoever it was Iâd call them back.
âYes?â I said.
âHello, itâs Ian,â came a voice through the car speakers.
âIan?â I asked, nonplussed, trying to think if an Ian worked at RealiTV.
âIan Griffith. I texted you. Lorraineâs son?â Ian sounded embarrassed.
Ah, Ian, I suddenly remembered.
âAh! Hi, Ian, I umâ¦â
âSorry, is this a good time? Itâs just I wanted to see if you got my text? I wasnât sure I had the right number.â
âOh yes, yes,â I said. âIâm so sorry I didnât reply, I was going to, but I totally forgot⦠This new jobâ¦â
I could see Valerie looking disapproving, sensing it typical of my lack of professionalism that I wouldnât reply to somebodyâs text.
âWell I d-didnât want to bother
Valerie put her hand on the dashboard to steady herself. âYou havenât driven on a motorway before?â She sounded horrified.
âNoâ¦â I snivelled.
âI am not confident in your driving ability, Iâm afraid, Poppy. This is absolutely unacceptable,â said Valerie.
âWell, we canât stay here,â said Nick. âIâm not insured. I canât drive.â
âI will not be driven by Poppy,â said Valerie firmly.
I grabbed my phone and jumped out of the car, trying to sniff back tears. I scanned the call sheet for phone numbers. I tried scary Shannon but she didnât answer, so I dialled the Last Clan Standing production office up in Scotland, praying someone would pick up.
âHello?â I sniffed.
âHello, Last Clan Standing , Rhidian speaking.â
Oh great.
âWhat are you doing up there?â I asked.
âPoppy? Hi. Oh they flew me up yesterday to help. Itâs unbelievable, you should see the games theyâve built here, itâs huge⦠Are you okay?â
âNo, no⦠Iâm not okay,â I sobbed.
âPoppy, whatâs wrong? Where are you?â
âI, I⦠I was supposed to drive a cameraman and Valerie Decouz up to Scotland as a last-minute change of plan, but I havenât really driven for ages and⦠andâ¦â I choked back a sob. âValerie says sheâs not confident in my ability and doesnât want me driving, and weâre on the hard shoulder of the M1 and I donât know what to do!â The last words were lost in a wail.
âOkay, okay, calm down,â said Rhidian. âDonât worry, weâll sort it out. Is anyone else with you in the car?â
âNick Hill, the cameraman, but heâs not insured.â
I was starting to feel calmer. For some reason Rhidianâs voice was reassuring me that this situation might be fixable.
âOkay, listen, you get Nickâs driving licence details for me and Iâll call the car hire company and get him on the insurance. Donât worry, Poppy, weâll sort this out.â
Twenty minutes later, Nick was driving us off the hard shoulder. He was not happy about it, grumbling that he had work to do and âwhatâs TV come to when you have to drive yourself to a shootâ. Valerie hadnât said a word since her earlier pronouncement that she refused to be driven by me. I sank into the back seat, cursing the fact that I hadnât taken that extra motorway driving post-test lesson my instructor had recommended. I think I spent the thirty-seven pounds I saved on a pair of really uncomfortable pleather clogs. Damn those bloody clogs.
We drove in silence for a few miles, me primarily thinking clog-related thoughts, when a phone started to ring. Mine â Iâd plugged it back into the carâs phone system to charge. It flashed up on the dashboard screen: UNKNOWN NUMBER.
âWant me to answer that?â asked Nick.
It was probably Shannon calling me back. I couldnât reach my phone to unplug it, so Iâd just tell whoever it was Iâd call them back.
âYes?â I said.
âHello, itâs Ian,â came a voice through the car speakers.
âIan?â I asked, nonplussed, trying to think if an Ian worked at RealiTV.
âIan Griffith. I texted you. Lorraineâs son?â Ian sounded embarrassed.
Ah, Ian, I suddenly remembered.
âAh! Hi, Ian, I umâ¦â
âSorry, is this a good time? Itâs just I wanted to see if you got my text? I wasnât sure I had the right number.â
âOh yes, yes,â I said. âIâm so sorry I didnât reply, I was going to, but I totally forgot⦠This new jobâ¦â
I could see Valerie looking disapproving, sensing it typical of my lack of professionalism that I wouldnât reply to somebodyâs text.
âWell I d-didnât want to bother
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