‘Excuse me, I think my car has been stolen,’ I say, making an effort not to sound hysterical.
He carries on looking at the screen and, presuming he didn’t hear me, I speak again, only louder.
‘I heard you the first time,’ he says, raising his head and looking back at me through the glass.
‘Oh. Well, in that case, can you tell me what I should do?’
‘Yes, you should take another look.’
‘I have looked,’ I say indignantly.
‘Where?’
‘On the fourth floor, where I left it. I also checked on the second, third and fifth floors.’
‘So you’re not sure where you left it.’
‘Yes, I’m perfectly sure!’
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‘If I had a pound for every person who told me their car’s been stolen, I’d be a rich man. Do you have your ticket?’
‘Yes,’ I say, taking my purse out of my bag and opening it. ‘Here.’ I push the ticket under the hatch, expecting him to take it.
‘So how did whoever has taken your car manage to get it through the barrier without the ticket?’
‘I presume they pretended they’d lost it and paid here, at the exit.’
‘What’s the registration number?’
‘RV07BWW. It’s a Mini, black.’
He looks as his computer screen and shakes his head. ‘That car registration hasn’t been logged as going through on a reissued ticket.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying that your car hasn’t been stolen.’
‘So where is it then?’
‘Probably where you left it.’
He goes back to his screen and I stare at him, shocked at how much I suddenly hate him. I know it’s because of what this might mean – more proof of my disintegrating memory – but I hate the way he’s so dismissive and anyway, I know where I parked my car. I slam my hand against the glass and he eyes me warily.
‘If you come with me, I can prove that it’s not,’ I say firmly.
He looks at me for a moment, then turns his head and calls over his shoulder. ‘Patsy, can you cover for me!’ A The Breakdown
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woman comes out from the office behind. ‘This lady
has had her car stolen,’ he explains.
She looks at me and grins. ‘Of course she has.’
‘I can assure you I have,’ I snap.
The man comes round from the booth. ‘Come on
then.’
We go towards the lift together and while we’re waiting for it to arrive my mobile rings. I don’t really want to answer it in case it’s Mary but I know it’ll look strange if I don’t, so I take it from my bag. When I see that it’s Matthew, relief washes over me.
‘Hello?’
‘You seem pleased to hear from me,’ he remarks.
‘Where are you? I’ve just got home.’
‘I’m in Castle Wells. I decided to come in and do some shopping but there’s a bit of a problem. I think my car’s been stolen.’
‘Stolen?’ His voice rises sharply. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Well, it looks that way.’
‘Are you sure it hasn’t just been towed away? Did you forget to put a ticket on it, or stay longer than you should have?’
‘No,’ I say, moving away from the parking attendant and the smirk on his face. ‘I parked in the multi-storey.’
‘So it definitely hasn’t been towed away?’
‘No, it’s been stolen.’
‘You haven’t just forgotten where you parked it, have you?’
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‘No! And before you ask, yes, I’ve checked the whole car park.’
‘Have you called the police?’
‘Not yet. I’m with someone from the car park and we’re on our way up to check.’
‘So you’re not sure it’s been stolen?’
‘Can I call you back in a minute?’ I ask, my face now burning. ‘The lift is here.’
‘All right.’
The lift doors open and people come flooding out.
We get into the lift and the man watches as I press the button for the fourth floor. On the way up we stop at the second, then at the third. At the fourth, I get out, the man following close behind.
‘I parked it over there,’ I say, pointing to the other side of the car-park. ‘Row E.’
‘Lead the way,’ he says.
I thread my way through the rows of cars.
‘It should be somewhere around here.’
‘RV07BWW?’
‘Yes.’ I nod.
‘It’s right there.’
‘Where?’
‘There,’ he says, pointing.
I follow his eyes and find myself staring at my car.
‘It’s not possible,’ I mutter. ‘It wasn’t there before, I promise.’ I walk over to it, wanting it – perversely – to be the wrong car. ‘I don’t understand. I checked the whole row twice.’
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‘It’s easily done,’ he says, generous in victory.
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Well, you’re not the first and you certainly won’t be the last. Don’t worry about it.’
‘But it wasn’t here, it really wasn’t.’
‘Maybe you weren’t on the right floor.’
‘I was,’ I insist. ‘I came straight up here and when I couldn’t find it I went up to the fifth and then checked the third. I even checked the second floor.’
‘Did you go up to the sixth?’
‘No, because I knew I hadn’t gone up to the very top of the car park.’
‘The seventh is the top.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I parked it on the fourth.’