She and Sam hadn't even discussed it when the doctor had said only one parent could go in the helicopter. 'I'll go,' Sam had said without even looking at Clementine. Surely it was normally the mother who went. Children needed their mothers when they were sick. Just because Sam took the girls for their injections didn't give him first place in line during medical emergencies. They called out 'Mummy!' if they were sick in the night, and Clementine was the one who would go and sit and cuddle them while Sam went to measure out the medicine. Why had she just passively stood aside and let him go? She was the mother. Clementine should have gone. She loathed herself for not insisting. She loathed Sam for not giving her the option.
'Oh God,' she said out loud. Her stomach cramped violently. 'We're not moving at all.'
The brakelights on the car in front went off and Tiffany hunched hopefully over the steering wheel. They inched forward and stopped immediately. From behind them a car horn tooted and another one responded with a furious, ludicrous scream.
'Oh, fuck it,' moaned Clementine. 'Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.'
She couldn't sit still. She plucked at the diagonal strap of her seatbelt. It felt like she was being physically restrained from seeing Ruby. The need to be there with her right now was overwhelming. She wanted to scream with it. She could feel her arms straining with the desire to hold her.
'She's in good hands,' said Tiffany. 'My niece was in intensive care once at Westmead and my sister said they were amazing. She was so ... um, impressed, and ...' She fell silent.
Clementine looked out the window and then opened it to let in some air. She imagined herself throwing open the door and running. No footpath. She'd just ru
n along the highway, past all those stupid horrible metal cars, screaming, 'Get out of my way!'
'I'll see if we can find a traffic report.' Tiffany switched on the radio.
She pushed buttons, flicking past fragments of sound before finally settling on what sounded like a news report.
'Come on,' said Tiffany to the radio.
Finally they heard it. 'A three car pile-up,' said 'Vince, the roving traffic reporter' cheerily from his viewpoint in a helicopter. Someone else in a helicopter. 'Traffic at a standstill. It's unbelievable! This is not your average Sunday evening! It looks like a peak-hour gridlock on a Monday morning.'
Tiffany switched off the radio.
'So that confirms we're in a traffic jam,' she said.
They sat in silence.
The car in front of them moved and then stopped almost immediately.
'I can't ... I have to ...' Clementine undid her seatbelt. The roof of the car was so close to her head. 'I have to get out of here, I can't just sit here.'
'There's nowhere to go.' Tiffany looked panicky. 'We're moving. Look! We're moving. It will clear.'
'Did you see how white she was?' said Clementine. 'Her face was so white. She normally has these pink little cheeks.' She could feel her self-control slipping, like a foot sliding on gravel. She looked at Tiffany. 'Talk to me about something else. Anything else.'
'Okay,' said Tiffany. 'Um.'
Clementine couldn't bear it.
'I've got an audition coming up. A very important audition. It was the biggest thing in my life this morning. Did you have to audition to be a dancer?' She pressed her hands over her face and spoke through her fingers. 'What if she stops breathing again?'
'I don't think she can stop breathing, because she's intubated,' said Tiffany. 'To help her breathe.'
The line of traffic moved again. Stopped.
'Fuuuuuck this!' Clementine slammed her closed fist on the dashboard.
'I did have to audition,' said Tiffany quickly. 'For my job at the club. I went with my friend Erin. Otherwise I might have chickened out.'
She stopped.
'Go on,' said Clementine. 'Keep talking. Please keep talking.'
'So we turned up at the club, and I thought we might have trouble taking it seriously, but there was this woman in charge of the auditions. Her name was Emerald Blaze. I know. It sounds comical, but honestly, she was formidable. As soon as we saw her we took it dead seriously. She was an amazing dancer. She moved in slow motion. It made me think of silk. Slippery silk. Almost too sexy. Like you were seeing something you shouldn't see. She said, "Girls, it's not about fancy pole tricks. It's about the tease." That advice earned me a lot of money. So the first thing we had to do was just walk up onstage, walk around the pole and walk off. It doesn't sound like much but it was terrifying, knowing all the girls were watching and judging you, and of course we weren't used to the high heels yet - I thought I was going to fall - and what else? I remember Emerald had this whole thing about not being yourself. You had to come up with a stage name and invent your own backstory. Should I stop?'
'What?' Clementine kneaded her stomach with her fists. The traffic inched forward. 'No. Please don't stop. Keep talking. What was your stage name?'