Still, she’d been delighted and vowed to live up to his faith in her, only every time she slid behind the wheel she broke into a sweat. She felt like a fraud and an imposter. She expected the police to pull her over and tell her that they had CCTV footage that proved she hadn’t really passed her test at all.

Driving scared Martha. It might have been all right if she’d been the only person on the road, but everyone seemed to either be stuck to her bumper, or overtaking her like a racing driver competing for a trophy. She knew that what she needed was more practice, but ever since she’d driven his car into a ditch during a practice session, her father had refused to let her behind the wheel. It didn’t matter that he was an appalling teacher.

Wait until you can afford your own car.

As if that was ever going to happen.

She finished her tea and gazed out the window. From the bed she had a perfect view into the gardens of the houses opposite. Mrs. Pettifer, who was eighty-five and recovering well after receiving a new hip, was watering her plants.

What stories would she have to tell when she was eighty-five? Unless something dramatic changed, nothing that was likely to interest anyone.

She heard her mother clattering in the kitchen below.

“Martha!” her mother called up the stairs. “Kitchen floor!”

“I’m job hunting!” Martha opened her laptop again. She was ready to do anything. Better to do the wrong thing than nothing.

The driving job was still on the screen.

Are you ready for the adventure of a lifetime?

Yes, she was definitely ready for that.

Curious, she read on.

Enthusiastic and competent driver needed for a road trip across America, driving from Chicago to Santa Monica. Generous salary, all expenses paid. Must be good-humored, flexible and friendly. Clean driving license.

Martha stared at it.

She definitely wasn’t an enthusiastic driver, and not by any stretch of the imagination could she be described as competent, but she was friendly, and she was also flexible, always assuming that they were talking about attitude to life rather than the ability to touch her toes without pulling a muscle because that was more her sister’s province.

She scanned the details again.

A road trip across America.

Why did it have to be a road trip? But hadn’t she read somewhere that America didn’t have many roundabouts? If it was all straight roads and no roundabouts then she’d probably be fine. Providing she didn’t have to reverse.

Her driving license was definitely clean, even if that was because no one in uniform had so far witnessed one of her misdemeanors. Also it had gone through the washing machine three times before she’d realized it was in her pocket.

How far was it from Chicago to Santa Monica?