Of course, there is a chance they are lying. But that would be false advertising, and I’m pretty sure they would be in jail for that, alongside all the car stranglers.
‘Fine,’ says Dad, and the car rattles and thumps and bumps into the car park.
We sit at a table by the window and watch Dad outside as he opens the bonnet of the car. Even Teddy must know that Dad has no idea what he’s doing. Normally, Dad would call a mechanic, or use Google to see what might be the problem, or maybe ask someone on Twitter. But now he has to rely on his own knowledge and, like I say, he doesn’t have any.
He slowly closes the bonnet and walks sadly inside.
It’s silent and empty in here, which seems weird to me considering it serves the best food in the country. There’s a TV in the corner but they’ve put a black sheet over it, like it’s died and they’ve done a funeral for it.
A lady with tattoos stomps over. Teddy holds a menu over his face because he still thinks that makes him invisible. The lady is wearing slippers and seems quite angry about everything. She says she couldn’t print any *rude word* specials menus so she just wrote the specials on the *rude word* blackboard.
I see that today there’s a choice between the best fish and chips in the country or the best spaghetti Bolognese in the country. For dessert you can have the best apple crumble in the country or the best ice cream in the country. I opt for the best spaghetti Bolognese in the country, and then if I’m allowed I think I’ll have the best ice cream in the country.
‘You know it’s the environmentalists what broke the screens,’ says the woman, like she’s worked it all out and it’s obvious.
‘The environmentalists?’ says Mum.
‘Yeah. The Gretas and whatnots. It’s all to do with liquid crystals. Once a screen cracks, the crystals escape and make the clouds disappear which means less rain so the world gets all hot. They’re always moaning about it being too hot, that lot, but I say, what’s wrong with a tan?’
She nods at us, all wise and that, but she is forgetting about global warming, not to mention skin damage. Mum gives me a Look which I know means I’m not to say anything to make the lady more cross.
Dad comes back from the toilets, thank goodness, where he has tried to wash all the mud and cow pats off his face and hands. He has not done a very good job. If anything, he has just smeared it around his face, like it’s a dirty moisturizer. But at least the smell is less bad now. Now it’s just like a light aftershave, maybe called Eau de Cow, or Eau What’s That? or Eau, Dad, You Stink!
Dad points out to Mum what it says on the board below the menu.
NO CARDS.
‘It’s okay,’ Mum whispers. ‘We don’t need the debit card. I brought the cheque book.’
She taps her head like she’s a genius. I have no idea what a cheque book is, but then Mum says it’s a book full of forms that you fill out to promise you’ll give someone some money at some point soon.
I mean, really? And people BELIEVE that? No wonder no one uses them any more because that seems like some risky business right there.
We wait for our food but then the lady comes out and says she can’t do the best Bolognese in the country because she forgot the *rude word* microwave isn’t working, on account of her not being able to tell what’s on the screen. Dad asks if maybe she could cook it the normal way but she just makes a face like Dad has suggested she change the name of the pub to The Badger’s a Butthead.
Teddy begins to slowly bang his head on the table. Normally, this would be a case for a child psychologist but I get it: he misses his normal routine. Paw Patrol. Roblox. Planes on YouTube. All of these things are better than waiting for some food from a tattooed woman in slippers in a weird pub.
I feel a bit sorry for him so I get a comic out and ask him if he wants to read with me. I start to do all the voices, and slowly he starts to forget that his screenless life is totally worthless.
While I’m doing that, Mum and Dad start to talk really quietly to each other because they think I’m distracted. But I can still hear them.
Dad is saying what if Grandma actually doesn’t have enough food? She doesn’t drive so she can’t get to a supermarket and, even if she could, she might not have actual cash. They closed her local bank recently because people forget that some older people don’t use banking websites, and she doesn’t have friends nearby or neighbours. He says he’s worried about the car, and some of the stuff that’s going on in the cities sounds mad.
Mum says once we get on to the motorway we should be fine, let’s not worry anybody (she looks at me and Teddy when she says this), let’s just get there and hope Grandma’s in a good mood.
Then BANG. A plate of fish and chips is dropped on the table. Without being rude, I have to say it doesn’t look anything like how I imagined the best fish and chips in the country would look. I turn to Mum and Dad who are both smiling broadly at me, which is when I know stuff is really wrong.
‘We don’t accept cheques,’ says the lady.
‘Oh,’ says Mum with a smile, looking at our empty plates. ‘Oh dear!’
‘It’s the *rude word* banks,’ says the lady. ‘It’s
