I pressed my foot to the brake pedal and felt it give a little under the pressure. My wife caught me frowning.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Oh, probably nothing,’ I flashed a reassuring grin at her. ‘Just the brakes.’
She got noticeably paler. ‘What?’
‘The brakes felt a little spongy, that’s all,’ I laughed. ‘They still work.’
‘But for how long?’ she whispered, casting her eyes to the quiet, sunset-lit road we were driving down.
‘You’re feeling very dramatic this evening.’
‘You know I don’t trust this car, Darryl.’
‘Because it’s foreign?’ I frowned.
‘Because it’s electric,’ she hissed, like it was a dirty word. I rolled my eyes.
‘It’s only half electric,’ I mocked her. ‘And the brakes are fine, relax.’
‘How often should you get a brake pad replacement, near Lockleys?’ she asked, suddenly.
‘What? I don’t know, whenever they wear out.’
‘Yeah, but what about in this car?’
‘Why would it be different in this car?’
‘Because it’s elec–’
I slammed on the brakes, cutting her off with their squealing. She flung her arms out, catching herself from jerking forward, and looked up at me with wide eyes.
‘Did you see that?’ she asked me, shocked. ‘It tried to kill us!’
‘That was me!’ I shouted. ‘Why are you so afraid of electric cars?’
‘You know I don’t like talking about my childhood,’ she whispered, spinning away from me to stare out the window. I rolled my eyes.
‘Fine. Look, I have to get these brakes checked out – is that going to be a problem?’
She shook her head, and turned to look at me, eyes wet with tears.
‘When we got married, you promised I’d never have to have a qualified hybrid car mechanic near me. You promised!’
‘I know, but–’
‘It was in your vows, Darryl!’
‘Alright!’ I threw my hands up. ‘I’m sorry! I’ll get someone else to take me!’
She slowly shook her head as I started the car up again and got going. I caught the motion and looked over at her.
‘What?’
‘Who?’ she asked, voice quivering.