‘Where are you headed?’ The driver peers down at me. He has longish blond hair sticking out from under a baseball cap, and looks to be in his fifties or maybe sixties.

‘No, it’s okay,’ I say, my teeth chattering again. ‘I’m just waiting for a cab.’

‘Sorry, hun. Not too many of those around this time of year.’ He looks me up and down. ‘You should really get out of this cold. Want me to give you a lift somewhere? I don’t bite, promise.’

I scan the empty street for any signs of buses or taxis. The men are still staring at me and I feel like prey.

‘Are you going south?’

‘Sure am.’

He sounds genuine, the men are freaking me out, and I’m shaking too much to think anymore, so I jump in. He closes the door with a lever. ‘You look frozen.’ He leans towards me, arm stretched out.

Suddenly, all my nerves go on high alert and my skin erupts in even bigger goosebumps. What have I done? It’s ten at night and I’m alone in a truck with a strange man.

My shoulders tense as he rummages behind my head where there’s a small storage area. I imagine a knife, a gun, a …

‘Put this on.’ He hands me a beanie.

I put it on, breathing through my mouth in case it stinks. My bag on my lap, I fold my arms across my chest as he pulls onto the road.

Now I’m stuck.

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Once I warm up, I take off the beanie although it only smells a little like engine oil. We travel along the dark road and I look around the inside of the truck—a dashboard with lots of switches and buttons, walkietalkie hanging low, enormous wood-panelled steering wheel and oversized rear-view mirror with a glass eagle hanging down on a string. Behind us is a black curtain; who knows what’s behind it.

I cross my legs, relieved I didn’t wear a dress, and start biting my nails. My mind flits to my aeroplane image of God sitting on a sunbeam, promising me my life would be easier from now on. Tonight is pitch-dark, and there’s not a sunbeam in sight.

‘What’s your name?’ the driver asks.

‘Rebecca,’ is the first lie that comes to mind.

‘Pretty name. I’m Ted, delivering some food cargo down south. Is that the direction you want to go, Rebecca?’

‘Sure.’ I peer at him out of the corner of my eye. He seems okay enough. ‘Maybe you know where … There’s a thing, a winter festival that I want to find, somewhere south of here. Is there a place you think it would be?’

‘Festival, ha.’ He chuckles. ‘Tree huggers out in this cold? No, hun, no idea.’