Marzalous

          Everyone was in the driveway looking at the new car. It was the first car we'd ever had, and we were all so excited that it had finally arrived. I was going back inside to find my pink Lambourghini Marzal. I'd already seen the car and given it the once over when me and dad had been to buy it. It was small and old and black and it didn't look like any of the cars in my collection, that’s all I remember. It was some kind of Austin or something. I also remember the serious look on my dad's face as he counted out the six ten pound notes. He’d worked hard for that money, but he knew mum really wanted us to get a car; all the neighbours had one.

          I went into the living room and looked for the Marzal. I wanted to show everyone the car that we should have got. I had to show them, because no one listened when I told them. I looked around and saw it over by the window. It was piled up with some of the others in the back of the Tonka truck, between the toy box and the armchair. As I was picking it out, I saw through the window that the girls were now in the back of the car. Mum was in the front and was rolling the window down. Dad was bent over and was leaning with both hands on the door. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and his sunglasses were pushed up into his hair. He was saying something and they were all laughing.

          I dashed back to join them, keen to be in on the joke, but before I reached the back door, I realised that the car in my hand was a Ferrari and not the one I wanted. I stopped and turned back towards the living room. As I did, I could hear the Austin’s engine roar. There was a split second of screeching tyres, and then I felt the impact of the car, driven by my mother, as it crashed into the side of the house, ripping the drainpipe away from the wall, scraping down the brick work and smashing into the back door.

          The noise was awful, and totally disorientated me until I realised what it was, but it was the glass I remember most. As I spun and stared at it, the back door began to move, just as though a gentle breeze was pushing at it. Then the breeze died and there was a short pause before the glass panel exploded both violently and in slow motion, and shards flew all over me. I remember a flash. It must have been the light catching the glass as it left the frame, or just spilling into the space as it became available. It must have looked like the explosion of glass had thrown me backwards and onto the floor, but it hadn’t really, it was more the surprise that had made me fall.

          I wasn't cut that much, on my hands mostly as I was trying to get up, but the glass was everywhere. I even found some pieces in my underpants. Mum kept saying how she was sorry. She was crying and everything, but I was fine. I told her I hadn't been that close to the back door. She just kept hugging me and telling me she was really sorry. ‘I’m so sorry, sweetheart,’ she kept saying, over and over. She didn’t say she was sorry to my dad though. Peering up past her cardigan, I could see the fierce look on his face.

          My mum had been taking lessons. She hadn't had that many and she wasn't that good yet, but she really wanted to drive. She was always saying as how, now she was done with having kids and that, she wanted to get out and about a bit more. My dad knew that and that's why he bought the car; he knew she really wanted it, even though he joked that she'd just drive off and never come back.

          Dad tried to fix it up but it was too late, it was never the same again. Eventually he gave up trying, sold it for scrap, and bought mum another one. By that time my mum had got a licence, and like dad had predicted, she did drive off and never came back. Like I said, it had never been the same again really.


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