Knitting Needles

Havermouth, Five Years Before

Cameron’s Ute was an experience to drive, Aislen thought ruefully as she worked her way into the traffic of the town center. The handbrake was in the wrong place, and it was much bigger than any of the driving instructor’s cars or Tiffany’s little hatch.

The traffic was heavier than normal, with cars diverting out of side street. Flashing blue and red lights drew their eyes to where police cars and an ambulance parked outside a small house, and people gathered on the paving, but Aislen could not look too closely as she had to watch for a gap to move forward in, the traffic banking up behind her.

She moved forwards, shifting through the gears with a grimace. “I prefer automatics,” she told him.

“It’s good to be able to drive both,” he replied. Cameron was relaxed but uncompromising as a supervising driver, giving her no opportunity to take the easy way out of things. “There’s a park,” he pointed.

“That’s a reverse parallel park,” she replied. “Between two