Driving Lessons Page #3

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Camping?

Why on earth would anyone

want to go camping?

To escape?

He can't possibly.

He's got a dress rehearsal

with the Guides next week.

He's a tree.

A eucalyptus tree.

Plus, he's got Bible club and

his driving lessons to think about.

But I thought you

were teaching him. -Precisely.

Well, surely a few days

is hardly gonna make

any difference...

Robert, you're not the one

trying to run the Girl Guides,

organize a play,

keep house and look after half

the over-70s in Finchley.

Sorry, but what does any

of that have to do with Ben?

I need him here.

Night, Dad.

Night-night, Ben.

I'm sorry about the camping.

Sometimes your

mother can be a little...

Good night, Mr. Fincham.

Bright and early.

That's the ticket.

I'm afraid I can't

come camping with you.

My mother needs me at home.

I see.

Sorry.

Well, never mind. We can just take

a little drive instead.

I take it you drive.

I'm still a learner.

This is wonderful.

This is simply...

Just look at all that green!

Just look at it.

It's all so f***ing green!

We should probably think

about turning back soon.

Oh, there's bags of time.

It's not even dark yet.

I really do think

we should turn back.

Stop the car!

Stop! Stop!

Good God above,

I am in Elysium!

Drive in!

I see now why the working classes

kept camping a secret.

Sky. Air.

Their little urchins

skedaddling about.

Hello, there.

I'm Evie. I've come camping.

Mum!

There.

Very nice.

If you don't mind,

I really think we should

be getting back now.

My mother was expecting me at 6:00.

I can't possibly leave

until I've eaten campfire food.

I really do have to say,

there's no time left.

There's always time.

Right, that's it.

I'm packing up the tent.

I beg your pardon?

I'm taking down the tent.

We're leaving.

Car key, please.

Sorry?

Car key.

Okay.

Oh, my God.

You've swallowed the key.

What a relief. He swears.

You've swallowed the f***ing key!

Better and better.

Choke. Bring it back.

You can't do that!

You have to bring it back!

No, I don't.

-Yes, you do!

No, I don't.

Sh*t. There's a spare set.

Where's the spare?

Haven't got one.

How could you do that?

Felt like it.

My mother's gonna kill me.

You don't understand.

She said I wasn't to come.

I asked, and she said no.

You don't say yes when my mother

says no. You don't do it.

My dear boy,

the key will be back

with us in the morning.

I'm regular as clockwork.

Look, if it makes

you feel any better.

I'll ring your mother and tell her

I went momentarily mad.

No! No.

Whatever you do,

do not ring my mother.

As you wish.

I'll have to call home.

Eat first. A soldier fights

better on a full stomach.

Have a drink.

I don't drink.

Go on.

It'll make you feel better.

No, it won't.

It was a key. I swallowed it.

Frankly, you should be flattered.

Now, I insist

you have a drink.

I'm underage.

Well, how old are you?

Seventeen and a half.

So young,

and so pedantic.

One glass. You can

tell God I forced you.

To poetry.

"'Auschwitz,'

screamed my halting mentor.

"'Remember

your godforsaken lust

"'in their tolled,

heaped-up hell. '

"'But, but,' I urged... "

That's me.

Yeah.

"'But, but,' I urged,

"'they have passed us,

passed beyond to a better place. '

"'Revenge,' he cries, 'is yours,

"'but you are blinded

by your petty sorrow. '

"'Pity me, pity me,' I yelped.

"'Your service is inclusive

of this testing ground, your soul. '"

Then you go back to the narrator.

Mmm-hmm.

"The Church's

palpable texts breathe

"their rich, rich grace

into your heart,

"and they are

precious and beautiful,

"and you must never forsake

the thought of God,

"for God is love. "

And you wrote this for...

Sarah. She's a friend.

I haven't sent it yet.

She thought my last

poem was a bit weird.

Yes.

Well, don't hurry your heart.

That was always my mistake.

What do your parents make of Sarah?

Or perhaps you haven't

got that far yet.

To be honest,

I'm not really sure

how she feels about me.

Well, you have

the soul of a poet,

and that, let me tell you,

lasts a great deal longer than looks.

Hello?

Mum?

Ben? Where are you?

I was expecting you at 6:00.

I'm on a campsite.

Evie swallowed the car key,

and now we can't get back

till she poos it out.

Mum? You there?

I'm calling the police.

Where are you?

I don't know.

Don't call the police.

I'm fine, really.

Have you taken a tablet?

Ben, try to think.

Did she give you a tablet?

Something for a headache?

I'm fine. I just can't

come back till morning.

Robert, she's kidnapped him!

He's somewhere on a campsite.

He sounds drugged.

Mum, I'm fine, honestly.

Don't move.

I'm on my way.

Mum, there's

nothing wrong with me!

I'm stuck on a campsite,

and I can't come back till morning.

Then I'll expect you

whenever you can get back.

Good night, Ben.

Mum?

Mum.

And will I be a part

of what you've made

And I am throwing

All my thoughts away

And I'm destroying

Every bet I've made

All well?

Fine.

Don't feel guilty.

Guilt's a wicked ghost.

I'm just going for a stroll.

I'll be down

the road a little way.

So pack the car up

and come out and meet me.

Car key.

Oh, yeah. Right.

Yeah. There we are.

Right.

Your granny said you'd pay.

You could have told me

you weren't going to pay.

That campsite

manager was a very big man.

- If I hadn't had the money...

- I'll pay you back.

- That's not the point!

- Oh, for goodness' sake.

Anyone would think

you'd given blood.

I think it's best

I stop working for you.

Oh, why? So you can take up

being pompous professionally?

You can pay me what you owe me

when we get back to the house.

I'm not going back.

I have a poetry recital in Edinburgh.

I'm to take part in

a week of readings

at the Literary Festival.

You never said

anything about that.

Why should I?

Well, I can't

possibly go to Edinburgh.

It's...

It's all the way up there.

Nonsense. It's just

a few miles on the motorway.

I can't. - Well, that really

is most inconvenient.

I'm sorry, I just can't.

Look, I'll drive

you to the station,

and I'll get the train home.

I don't drive.

Oh, sh*t.

You have a car in your garage.

Ex-husband's. The Russian.

Very keen skier.

I'm a learner driver.

I'm strictly forbidden to drive a car

without a qualified

motorist in the vehicle.

Gosh, you really do

know all the rules, don't you?

We're breaking the law!

Evie!

Evie?

You okay?

Do you want some water?

I'll...

You all right now?

What's wrong?

Other than the fact

that I have an untreatable

condition, nothing.

- What condition?

- What do you care?

You're going home.

Evie, please, tell me.

Sparing you the details,

my tits have

turned into time bombs.

Doctors gave up

treating me last year.

My surgeon says it's the worst

case he's ever seen.

How long have you got?

Did they say?

How long is a piece of hope?

A month?

Three months?

A week?

A week?

You're shocked.

You're still so young.

To me a week is a year,

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