At the lights, Todd consulted his map. His first reading was a full day’s drive from here; he would be driving for most of the day if he was going to get there in time and check in to his accommodation after the event. He was a good map-reader and not too concerned about getting lost. It was all just a question of keeping going.

Four hours later, Todd’s bladder was painfully full while his stomach was almost as painfully empty. Todd looked at the Volvo’s clock. He was making good time and there was a truck stop just up ahead.

Todd pulled off the highway and into the parking lot.

The stop was largely full of Mexican truckers, which explained the counter menu. After a happy visit to the bathroom, Todd drank a Coke and ate a burrito. He was about to head back to the car when he saw a rack of postcards. They were generic Illinois: Home of some damn thing or other cards, but they fulfilled Sara’s tackiness requirements and besides, he didn’t know when he would be able to pick up some more postcards.

He paid for them and walked out into the sunshine. Across the way, two people were laughing about something. It was the kind of snapshot of time you want to preserve, what the TV ads called a Polaroid moment.

It ended a second later when Todd realized that one of the people laughing was Janis.

She looked different. Janis was wearing clothes that she would never have looked at six months ago: jeans and matching denim jacket. Her hair was cut short, almost like an old rock’n’roller. And she was wearing biker boots. Todd’s Janis had hated boots, said they deformed her feet or something, but this Janis looked like, Todd thought uncharitably, the fucking Fonz. He had to admit, reluctantly, that it suited her.

Todd felt a bump at his shoulder. He turned, to see her. The other woman. She walked past him, not saying a word, and before Todd could see her face, slid a bike helmet over her head. She was wearing a leather jacket, jeans, and motorcycle boots. She slid her legs onto the pillion of a big black Harley, and when Janis walked over to the bike, reached down, and pulled a still laughing Janis on with her.

Todd stared as Janis wedged on her own helmet, and the Harley roared into full-throated life and peeled out onto the highway. He didn’t notice his grip slacken on the brown paper bag of postcards before it fell to the floor. He walked back to the Volvo and sat behind the wheel, staring into space for half an hour.

*  *  *