‘His public pronouncements make me dubious. Still, maybe you’ve got a point. Maybe I’m just too flattened out by the endless fight that all this is. And the realization that we’re never going to find a common ground, no agreement to meet in the middle. When it comes to this issue the battle lines are completely drawn. It’s our new Civil War. Not exactly North versus South, although that’s now part of it. Rather, hardline Christian versus those of us who still believe that we’re supposed to be a secular country. But who is right here? Me and my point of view? That priest fellow? I’m just trying to protect women and help get them through a difficult passage – with the knowledge that there is going to be a degree of psychological pain. Why turn such a personal choice into a frontier? A way of dividing us even further?’

Bing. A text on Elise’s phone. From Klara.

‘Hurry,’ Elise read. ‘Things going to shit here.’

She clicked back to the GPS. We still had almost two hours of driving ahead of us.

‘There’s no alternative route?’ she asked.

I shook my head.

‘Surely after all your years here,’ I said, ‘you know that one of the great rules of Southern Californian life is: the traffic will always be at its worst when you absolutely need to be somewhere fast.’

She texted back:

Nightmare on the 10. Cars backed up for miles. Getting there as fast as we can. How bad?

Seconds or so after Elise sent it … bing.

Bad. She has a gun. She’s pointing it at me.

eighteen

THE NEXT TWO hours were among the longest of my life. The traffic started to clear as we got through the town of Whitewater. I was able to speed up once we reached Cal 62 – but was conscious of highway cops on the lookout for anyone who did ten miles over the speed limit. A patrolman lecturing me on going too fast – then handing me one of those nasty big tickets … always some weird sum like $334 – was further bullshit I didn’t need right now.

‘You okay?’ Elise asked me. Then seeing my expression she said: ‘I am sure that this young woman isn’t going to use the gun. Something made her panic and –’

‘If she’s crazy enough to point it at the woman who risked her life to get her to fucking safety she’s crazy enough to pull the trigger. Text Klara back.’