12. Emma

The early morning arrives way too soon, and my alarm blares at the ungodly hour of 2:30 AM. I groan, slap it off, and roll out of bed, every inch of me protesting against the early rise. Anna's already up, shuffling around in the kitchen like a zombie, which is a sight to behold. She does not look her best, but then I'm guessing neither do I.

"Coffee?" she croaks.

"Please," I mutter, my voice barely functioning.

We go through the motions of making coffee and grabbing a quick bite with the last of the food we didn't throw out last night, our movements slow and deliberate.

At 2:55 AM, with our handbags clutched tightly, we stare at each other as we stand by the front door. "You ready?" I ask.

"As I'll ever be."

"You can back out. I don't mind."

"Fuck you, bitch. You can't get rid of me that easily."

We giggle, and it settles the nerves as we leave the flat, knowing the last time we were both up at this hour, we saw it from the other side. This is a whole different experience and one I hope never to repeat as long as I live.

Trudging down the pavement, by 3:00 AM, we're outside the garage with the Mini, which looks exactly like how I feel—strained.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I glance over at Anna, who's clutching our travel mugs like they're lifelines. "Are you ready for this epic journey?"

She nods sleepily. "As ready as I'll ever be."

I start up the engine, and we head out onto the dark streets, leaving behind our lives. The roads are deserted at this hour, and it suddenly hits me how grateful I am to have Anna with me. We drive in comfortable silence for a while, just the hum of the engine and the occasional slurp from our travel mugs breaking up the stillness.

By dawn's first light, we're well out of the city and on the motorway heading north.

Anna has perked up considerably since we left, humming along to some pop tune on the radio. "Sorry I don't drive," she suddenly blurts out. "I feel bad you have to go the whole way."

Shooting her an amused stare, I refocus on the road. "Don't be daft. It's actually nice to be back in the driver's seat."

"Do you think I'll need to learn when I get there?" she asks, almost nervously.

"What, drive? That's up to you. Public transport isn't what it is here, but there again, you don't really need it to be."

"Maybe I should learn. It's not like I'll have much else to do while I look for a job."

"Speaking of jobs… what do you plan to do? SM again, or are you thinking of branching out?"

"Erm… I don't really know. I hadn't thought about it. I don't think I want corporate. That's one reason why I'm leaving." She sounds so unsure of herself for the first time ever. Anna has always known what she wants, but I guess plans change.

"As long as you're happy, that's all that matters," I say, trying to offer some encouragement. "You've got options."

"I guess," she sighs, staring out the window. "One step at a time, right?"

"Exactly," I nod. "And who knows? You might find your dream job up there."

"That's the plan, right?"

We lapse into another stretch of comfortable quiet. It's just us, the open road, and the promise of new beginnings.

Around 6 AM, after being on the road for three hours already, I pull into the next services with a yawn. Topping up first, because I can't just sit back and watch the tank get lower and lower, we drive around to the other side and switch the car off. Climbing out, we stretch our legs, and it feels like a blessing after being cooped up in the cramped Mini for hours. Anna heads straight for the loos while I stock up on snacks and more coffee. When she returns, I head for the toilet while she does a spot of shopping, and then we pile back in the car, even more weighted down.

"Ready to hit the road again?" I ask.

"Ready," she grins, grabbing a packet of crisps from my hand and tearing it open despite the early hour.

Back on the motorway, I settle back and travel at a steady pace as we head past Stoke-on-Trent and set a course for Manchester.

"I've never been this far north before," Anna muses. "I've spent my whole life in London, apart from overseas holidays. What does that say about me?"

"It doesn't say anything," I chide for her solemn tone.

"Maybe. It's green."

"It rains a lot."

She giggles. "Yeah."

"No, seriously," I say. "You have no idea the amount of rain that can fall in one day up north. It's bizarre."

"Well, I like the rain."

"Actually, yeah, me too."

We share a smile and then fall back into silence as the radio plays hits from the ‘80s.

As we approach Carlisle, it is nearing 9 AM. We've been on the road for six hours, and it's taking its toll on me, especially after the early start.

I pull into a parking space and immediately close my eyes.

"Sorry," Anna mutters again.

"Fuck off. I just need a quick nap. Go do some more shopping. Get us some Maccie Ds for brekkie."

"Okay, I can do that," she says and disappears, leaving me to my power nap.

What feels like seconds later—though it's probably been twenty minutes—I wake up to the sound of Anna getting back in the car, holding two McDonald's bags and a drink tray with two large cups of pop, switching it up from coffee.

"Rise and shine, sunshine," she chirps.

"Bless you," I mumble, stretching out and feeling every muscle complain about our long drive.

She hands me one bag and a cup of Coke, and I dig in.

We sit in the car, munching away in companionable silence. The food helps wake me up properly, filling me with new energy.

"You know," Anna starts between bites, "maybe this isn't so bad after all. Road trips have their charm."

"Well, let's see how charming it feels after another few hours in this box on wheels," I laugh.

She grins back at me, but there's a twinkle in her eye that tells me she's genuinely enjoying this break from routine, too. After finishing our breakfast, we tidy up and hit the loos again, driving around to top up with petrol again and to check the tyres after so long on the road with a heavy load before we set off, charting a course to Glasgow.

"Oh," Anna says sadly. "I was hoping we'd see Edinburgh Castle."

"Wrong side, you goon," I mutter. "It will divert us further and huge pass on spending more time getting there."

"Yeah, I hear you," she grumbles. "I can always come back down to see it on my own while you're doing your hockey thing."

I neglect to tell her it's a nearly four-hour train journey from Inverness to Edinburgh after I just dashed her hopes already, so I just nod along and focus on getting us over the Scottish border, and into my homeland, where I swear Anna is peering out the window, expecting a bunch of marauding Highlanders in full kilted regalia to come storming across the motorway to whisk her away and ravage her.

A girl can dream.