GOING FOR A DRIVE

 In 1992, seventeen-year-old Emma Jackson had recently moved in with boyfriend Dan.

   Emma glanced at her watch. Only five past six. That must be why the Red Lion, her local, was comparatively quiet.

   Daniel Perry was twenty-four, which Emma's parents considered to be too old for her. But then, Cynthia and Rufus had always found something of which to disapprove. Mark had been too unemployed, Steve too bisexual, and Farooq too Pakistani. Growing up, Emma hadn't realised quite how narrow-minded her parents - particularly her mother - were. It appalled her, in truth. Was disappointing.

   Apparently, the sense of disappointment was mutual. Just as well, for Cynthia and Rufus Jackson, that they had Julie and Caitlin. Emma was the difficult middle daughter, the one they "managed", and were never quite as proud of.

   "Usual, Em?" enquired Janice, the barmaid, a redhead of about forty, who had always seemed friendly.

   Simply Red sounded, at a low volume, from the jukebox: "I wanna fall from the stars..."

   "Yes, please," said Emma. Her "usual" being a pint of Stella.

   It had become a habit, hadn't it? The quick drink every evening. Work, bus stop, bus, straight home: Emma's once familiar pattern. Routine.

   Emma seldom went home now, without first visiting the Lion.

   She didn't notice Michael approaching. He appeared, grinning the grin she had considered smug, when she had first met him, barely a fortnight before.

   When Dan had introduced his girlfriend to his long-term friend and partner in, often literal, crime. And their new housemate, like it or sodding well lump it. Not negotiable.

   "Hey, Emma - I thought it was you. Is Dan with you?"

  "Not unless he's invisible, all of a sudden."

   Michael shrugged. "I thought maybe he'd popped to the loo or something."

   "No, he isn't here. And, to cut to the chase - yes, I'm on my own."

   "Not any more. Have a drink with me, Em." The look in his pale blue eyes. That look.

   "You aren't meeting anyone yourself?"

   "Not specifically, and not yet. A few mates of mine are meeting up later, but not for half an hour, at the earliest. I've got time for a quick drink first."

   "Sure," replied Emma.

   "Hi, Michael. Usual?" So, he was also on first name, "usual" terms with Janice.

   Once the drinks were sorted, Emma and Michael chose a table.

   There was a brief silence between them. Emma took a decisive swig of Stella Artois. Dutch courage? Did she need Dutch courage, though - like, seriously?

   "You know, maybe it isn't my place to say this."

   When had that stopped him before? Had aliens kidnapped the arrogant housemate her boyfriend had forced upon her? If so, could Emma keep the lovely man they had sent down, in his place?

   "Say what?" Her tone wasn't defensive any more. 

   "I heard you and Dan this morning. It was hard not to."

   "Yeah, sorry about that. We were kind of shouting the place down, I suppose."

   "I think he's wrong, you know - to put you down like that, discourage you from following your dreams. You should go for it: college, uni, all of it. Dan should be proud of you."

   "It means a lot to hear you say that."

   The conversation flowed after that.

   "Fancy going for a quick drive?"

   "How about your mates?"

   "That's not important," said Michael. "And I've only had the one drink. So..?"

   "Sounds good."

   Emma's remains were discovered in the New Forest, nine months later.