Chapter Text
Enid had assumed buying a car would be relatively straightforward.
This was her first mistake.
Her second had been agreeing to go with Wednesday.
Not because Enid objected to helping her girlfriend buy her first car.
Quite the opposite.
When Wednesday had announced, three weeks earlier, that she had finally grown tired of relying on public transport, taxis, Enid, and what she had referred to as the general incompetence of strangers, Enid had been delighted.
Wednesday getting a car meant freedom.
Convenience.
Weekend trips.
Not having to stand outside Enid’s flat at six in the morning while Enid attempted to remember where she had put her keys.
Enid had immediately offered to help.
Wednesday had stared at her.
“I am capable of purchasing a motor vehicle without supervision.”
“I didn’t say supervision.”
“You said you would come with me.”
“Support.”
“That sounds suspiciously similar.”
“Girlfriend support.”
Wednesday had considered this.
Apparently girlfriend support was sufficiently different from supervision to be acceptable.
Which was how Enid found herself standing on the drive of a perfectly normal semi-detached house in Surrey on a perfectly normal Saturday morning, beside a perfectly normal black car being sold by a perfectly normal middle-aged man named Martin.
While Wednesday held a small black notebook.
The notebook should have warned her.
Enid looked at it.
Then at Wednesday.
Then back at the notebook.
“Is that a list?”
Wednesday glanced at her.
“Obviously.”
“How long is the list?”
“Thirty-seven questions.”
Enid stared.
Martin laughed.
Wednesday did not.
The laugh died slowly.
“Oh.”
Enid smiled brightly.
“She’s very thorough.”
“I gathered.”
Wednesday stepped towards the car.
It was beautiful.
Black.
Naturally.
Not dark grey.
Not midnight blue.
Not metallic charcoal.
Black.
Wednesday had rejected six listings for misrepresenting colours she considered offensively adjacent to black.
The car was four years old, sleek without being ostentatious, large enough to be practical and polished to the point Enid could see her own reflection in the passenger door.
Wednesday circled it once.
Silently.
Martin watched her.
Enid watched Martin watching her.
Wednesday crouched beside the front wheel.
Martin looked at Enid.
“Is she always this serious?”
“Yes.”
Wednesday looked up.
“I heard that.”
“I know, baby.”
Martin’s eyebrows rose.
Enid ignored them.
Wednesday stood.
“How long have you owned it?”
“Just under three years.”
“Why are you selling it?”
“Got another one. Company car.”
Wednesday wrote something down.
Martin glanced at Enid again.
Enid gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
Wednesday continued.
“Has it ever been involved in a collision?”
“No.”
“Minor impact?”
“No.”
“Pedestrian?”
Martin blinked.
“Sorry?”
Enid immediately stepped in.
“She means has it ever clipped anyone.”
Wednesday turned her head.
“No, I don’t.”
Enid smiled harder.
“What do you mean?”
“I asked whether the vehicle has ever struck a pedestrian.”
Martin stared at her.
Wednesday stared back.
Enid rubbed her forehead.
“She’s checking the accident history.”
“I already asked about collisions.”
“Yes, but sometimes people don’t report smaller ones properly.”
Wednesday frowned.
“A collision with a human body is still a collision.”
“Yes, Wednesday.”
“Regardless of whether it is reported.”
“I know.”
“Your translation was therefore inaccurate.”
“Thank you for your feedback.”
Martin looked as though he was beginning to regret putting the advert online.
Wednesday made another note.
“No pedestrians,” Martin said carefully.
“Animals?”
“No.”
“Cyclists?”
“No.”
“Motorcyclists?”
“No.”
“Anyone pushed against the bonnet hard enough to cause structural damage?”
Enid closed her eyes.
Martin’s mouth opened.
Enid got there first.
“She means dents.”
Wednesday looked at her.
Enid pointed at her.
“Dents.”
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed.
“You are deliberately making my questions less precise.”
“That is the entire reason I’m here.”
“I thought you were providing girlfriend support.”
“This is girlfriend support.”
Martin suddenly became very interested in the bonnet.
Wednesday opened it.
She inspected the engine.
Enid knew almost nothing about engines.
Wednesday, apparently, had spent the previous three weeks learning enough about them to qualify as a moderately threatening mechanic.
She checked fluid levels.
Belts.
Battery.
The service history.
She asked Martin about the timing belt, brake pads, tyres and the last MOT.
All extremely normal.
Enid relaxed.
This was fine.
Wonderful, even.
Wednesday sounded informed.
Martin sounded relieved.
Perhaps the first five minutes had merely been Wednesday finding her stride.
Then Wednesday closed the bonnet.
“Has anyone died inside it?”
Martin froze.
Enid’s head snapped towards her.
“Wednesday.”
“What?”
“You can’t just ask people that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s weird.”
“It is relevant.”
“To what?”
“Resale value.”
Martin stared between them.
Wednesday continued calmly.
“A vehicle associated with a death may experience depreciation depending on the circumstances, particularly if the death occurred inside the passenger compartment and remediation was required.”
Enid opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Wednesday raised an eyebrow.
“Well?”
Enid sighed.
“She wants to know if there are any… unusual events in the car’s history that might affect the value.”
Wednesday considered this.
“Acceptable.”
Enid turned triumphantly towards Martin.
“There.”
Martin nodded slowly.
“No unusual events.”
“No deaths?”
“No deaths.”
“Attempted murders?”
Enid spun back around.
“Wednesday!”
“What?”
“That was not included in my translation.”
“Your translation was broad enough to encompass it.”
“No, it wasn’t!”
“It was.”
Martin coughed into his hand.
“No attempted murders either.”
Wednesday nodded.
“Good.”
Enid stared at her.
Wednesday looked mildly puzzled.
“You appear distressed.”
“We’ve been here twelve minutes.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve asked the man if he’s run over pedestrians and whether anyone has been murdered in the passenger seat.”
“Attempted murder is not murder.”
“That somehow makes this worse.”
Wednesday moved towards the rear door.
Enid looked at Martin apologetically.
“She’s lovely once you get used to her.”
“I can still hear you,” Wednesday said.
“I know.”
Martin smiled uncertainly.
Wednesday opened the rear passenger door and inspected the seats.
“Original upholstery?”
“Yes.”
“Any stains?”
“No.”
“Professionally cleaned?”
“Couple of times. Just normal valeting.”
Wednesday pressed one finger into the leather.
“What cleaning products were used?”
Martin frowned.
“Couldn’t tell you.”
“Were any enzyme-based?”
“I… don’t know.”
Enid saw where this was going.
“No.”
Wednesday looked at her.
“You don’t know what I am about to ask.”
“I absolutely do.”
“You cannot possibly.”
“You’re going to ask about blood.”
Martin slowly turned towards Enid.
Enid smiled.
Wednesday looked impressed despite herself.
“Yes.”
“Please don’t.”
“It is important.”
“Why?”
“Porous materials retain biological residue.”
Martin made a very small sound.
Enid rubbed both hands over her face.
“She wants to know if the leather is easy to clean.”
Wednesday’s expression became openly disapproving.
“That is not remotely equivalent.”
“It is today.”
“What if I spill something difficult to remove?”
“Like coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“Hot chocolate.”
“I would not consume hot chocolate inside my car.”
“Mud.”
“Why would there be mud inside my car?”
“Because your girlfriend is a werewolf who occasionally goes hiking.”
Wednesday paused.
Looked at Enid.
Then down at the upholstery.
“That is a legitimate concern.”
Enid smiled sweetly.
“See?”
Wednesday turned to Martin.
“Is the upholstery resistant to mud?”
Martin nodded immediately.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Enid beamed.
“Look at us. Normal car-buying people.”
Wednesday opened the rear door on the opposite side.
“Do the doors lock independently?”
“Yes.”
“Can they be opened from inside while locked?”
“Front ones, yes. Back ones have child locks.”
Wednesday paused.
“Excellent.”
Enid stared at her.
“No.”
Wednesday looked over.
“No?”
“You’re not allowed to say ‘excellent’ like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’ve just discovered a useful feature for kidnapping.”
Martin inhaled sharply.
Wednesday looked offended.
“I have no intention of kidnapping anyone.”
Enid relaxed.
“Thank you.”
“Kidnapping introduces unnecessary logistical complications.”
Enid’s relief evaporated.
Martin looked towards his house.
Possibly wondering how quickly he could get inside and lock the door.
Enid laughed weakly.
“She’s joking.”
Wednesday looked at her.
Enid widened her eyes.
Wednesday stared back.
“Right?”
Silence.
“Wednesday.”
“Yes.”
“Tell Martin you’re joking.”
Wednesday looked at Martin.
“I am joking.”
Martin nodded.
Enid leaned closer to her.
“You have to make your face look different when you say it.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“My face is irrelevant to factual accuracy.”
“Not when telling someone you’re not planning to abduct them.”
Wednesday wrote something else in her notebook.
Enid tried to read it.
Wednesday closed the notebook.
“Was that about me?”
“No.”
“That means yes.”
Wednesday walked around to the driver’s side.
Martin handed her the keys.
“Want to start it?”
Wednesday sat behind the wheel.
Enid watched her expression change.
Only slightly.
Most people would not have noticed.
Enid did.
Wednesday liked it.
The seat suited her.
The dashboard was simple and dark.
No ridiculous glowing strips.
No enormous touchscreen attempting to make the interior resemble a nightclub.
Everything Wednesday needed was within reach.
She adjusted the seat.
Mirrors.
Steering wheel.
Then started the engine.
The low rumble filled the drive.
Wednesday’s mouth twitched.
There.
Enid knew that twitch.
She definitely liked it.
Enid leaned through the open passenger window.
“You look good in it.”
Wednesday glanced at her.
“That is not a meaningful metric by which to evaluate a vehicle.”
“Still true.”
Wednesday looked forward again.
But Enid saw the tiny shift at the corner of her mouth.
Martin apparently saw it too.
His shoulders relaxed.
“She likes it, then?”
Enid lowered her voice.
“A lot.”
“I heard that.”
“I know.”
Wednesday turned the engine off and got out.
“What is the turning circle?”
Martin answered.
Wednesday asked about fuel economy.
Then insurance group.
Then previous owners.
Then whether any of those owners smoked.
Normal.
Completely normal.
Enid’s optimism returned.
Wednesday checked the headlights.
Indicators.
Windscreen wipers.
Tyre tread.
Spare wheel.
Emergency kit.
Then she stood beside the rear of the car.
Her eyes fixed on the boot.
Enid’s optimism died.
She knew that expression.
Wednesday had discovered something.
“Open it.”
Martin pressed the button.
The boot lifted.
It was enormous.
Enid actually laughed.
“Bloody hell.”
Wednesday stared into it.
Martin looked pleased.
“Loads of space. That’s one of the reasons I bought it originally. We used to take it down to Cornwall. You’d be amazed what you can get in there.”
Wednesday’s eyes sharpened.
Enid turned slowly towards Martin.
Don’t.
Please don’t encourage her.
Martin did not receive the telepathic message.
“Suitcases, camping equipment, golf clubs. Had a flat-pack dining table in there once.”
Wednesday stepped closer.
She measured the opening with her eyes.
Then leaned forward to inspect the depth.
Enid watched.
Martin watched.
Wednesday straightened.
“How much weight can it safely carry?”
Martin told her.
Wednesday nodded.
“And the boot mechanism?”
“Never had a problem.”
“Does it detect obstructions?”
“Yeah. It’ll stop if something’s in the way.”
Wednesday frowned.
Enid knew exactly why she had frowned.
“No.”
Wednesday looked at her.
“I haven’t asked anything.”
“I know.”
“Then your objection is premature.”
“It is preventative.”
“You don’t know what I was going to say.”
“I have spent enough time with you to make an educated guess.”
Wednesday turned back to Martin.
“How sensitive is the obstruction sensor?”
Martin shrugged.
“Pretty sensitive, I think.”
“Would fabric trigger it?”
Enid immediately intervened.
“She means shopping bags.”
Wednesday looked at her.
“I do not.”
“Today you do.”
“I have never purchased enough items simultaneously to require multiple shopping bags.”
“I have.”
Wednesday considered this.
“Fair.”
Martin nodded.
“Bags are fine. It’s more if something solid catches as it closes.”
Wednesday looked thoughtful.
“An arm?”
Martin went still.
Enid stared at the sky.
Birds.
Lovely.
Beautiful blue sky.
She wondered what normal couples were doing this morning.
Brunch, probably.
Normal couples were eating avocado on toast somewhere.
They were not discussing whether a severed arm would interfere with an electronic boot mechanism.
“A… what?” Martin asked.
“An arm.”
Enid dropped her gaze.
“She means if someone was reaching into the boot while it was shutting.”
Wednesday slowly turned towards her.
Enid pointed.
“Safety feature.”
Wednesday considered.
Then nodded.
“An acceptable interpretation.”
Martin visibly exhaled.
“Yes. Yeah, it would stop.”
“Useful.”
Enid gave Wednesday a warning look.
Wednesday ignored it.
She leaned into the boot again.
Reached to the back.
Checked the storage compartments beneath the floor.
Lifted the carpet.
Inspected the spare wheel well.
“Are there drainage holes?”
Martin blinked.
“I don’t know.”
Wednesday looked underneath.
Enid’s eyes narrowed.
“Why do you care about drainage holes?”
Wednesday continued inspecting.
“Liquids.”
“No.”
Wednesday looked at her.
“Rainwater.”
Enid paused.
Wednesday’s eyebrow lifted.
Enid narrowed her eyes further.
“You did that on purpose.”
“Did what?”
“You gave me the normal answer before I had to invent one.”
“I am capable of normality.”
“Debatable.”
Martin chuckled.
That was progress.
He was laughing again.
Perhaps he had finally understood Wednesday’s humour.
Or possibly he had entered the stage of fear where the human brain simply gave up.
Wednesday lowered the carpet.
“Do the rear seats fold flat?”
“Yes.”
“How flat?”
“Almost completely.”
Martin demonstrated.
Wednesday studied the increased load space.
Enid crossed her arms.
She could see calculations occurring behind Wednesday’s eyes.
This concerned her.
Wednesday took two steps back.
Looked from the folded seats to the boot opening.
Then at Martin.
“What are the internal dimensions with the rear seats lowered?”
Martin gave her approximate measurements.
Wednesday took out her notebook.
Wrote them down.
Enid leaned closer.
“What are you planning to put in this thing?”
“Various items.”
“That answer has never reassured me once in the entire time I’ve known you.”
Wednesday closed the notebook.
“You wanted weekend trips.”
“I was thinking luggage.”
“There will be sufficient room.”
“For luggage?”
“Yes.”
“And nothing alarming?”
Wednesday did not answer.
“Wednesday.”
“You are making assumptions.”
“Based on extensive historical evidence.”
Martin cleared his throat.
“Do you want to take it for a drive?”
“Yes.”
Enid almost hugged him.
“Yes. Great idea. Test drive. Driving. On roads. In public. Excellent.”
Wednesday gave her a flat look.
“You are behaving strangely.”
“I wonder why.”
Martin handed Wednesday the keys.
He started to move towards the passenger side.
Enid moved faster.
“I’ll go with her.”
Martin stopped.
Enid smiled.
“You don’t need to.”
“I normally go along for test drives.”
Enid looked at him.
Then at Wednesday.
Then back at him.
“Do you have children, Martin?”
“Two.”
“Stay here.”
Wednesday sighed.
“I am not going to murder the car salesman.”
Martin’s face changed.
Enid closed her eyes.
“You cannot phrase it like that.”
“It was a direct reassurance.”
“It wasn’t reassuring!”
“What would you prefer?”
“Something like, ‘Martin, please don’t worry, I’m a safe and responsible driver.’”
Wednesday looked at Martin.
“I am a safe and responsible driver.”
“See?”
“I also have no intention of murdering you.”
“Wednesday!”
Martin laughed.
Actually laughed.
A proper one this time.
“I’ll tell you what. You two go. I think I’ll risk it.”
Enid pointed at him.
“Good choice.”
Wednesday opened the driver’s door.
“Statistically, it may not be.”
“GET IN THE CAR.”
Wednesday got in.
Enid climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Wednesday adjusted the mirror.
Enid fastened her seatbelt.
Wednesday glanced at her.
“You are frustrated.”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I’m having a lovely time.”
“You are lying.”
“I have spent the last forty minutes translating your questions from serial killer into English.”
“I speak English.”
“Not socially acceptable English.”
Wednesday started the engine.
“I have been perfectly polite.”
“You asked him if anyone had died in the car.”
“A reasonable question.”
“Then whether they’d been murdered.”
“Attempted murder.”
“That correction is not helping.”
Wednesday pulled away from the kerb.
Perfectly smoothly.
Annoyingly perfectly.
Enid watched her for a moment.
Then smiled despite herself.
Wednesday looked comfortable behind the wheel.
More than comfortable.
She looked right.
One hand resting lightly on the steering wheel.
Eyes ahead.
Black jacket.
Black car.
Expression of mild disdain for every other road user.
Very Wednesday.
“You like it.”
“I have not yet completed my assessment.”
“You like it.”
“The steering is responsive.”
“You like it.”
“The visibility is adequate.”
“You really like it.”
Wednesday was quiet.
Enid grinned.
“You want the car.”
“I am considering it.”
“You’ve already named it, haven’t you?”
Wednesday’s head turned a fraction.
Enid gasped.
“You have!”
“I have not.”
“You absolutely have.”
“Pay attention to the road.”
“I’m not driving!”
“Then stop distracting the person who is.”
Enid laughed and reached across to rest her hand on Wednesday’s thigh.
Wednesday glanced down briefly.
Her expression softened.
Barely.
“The car is acceptable,” she said.
“High praise.”
“It may even be preferable to yours.”
Enid withdrew her hand.
“Take that back.”
Wednesday’s mouth twitched.
“My car has personality.”
“Your car has a glitter air freshener.”
“It’s a rainbow.”
“It rotates.”
“It’s cute.”
“It is an assault on the vestibular system.”
“You love my car.”
“I tolerate your car because it contains you.”
Enid paused.
Then smiled.
“That was almost romantic.”
“It was entirely factual.”
“Still taking it.”
They drove for fifteen minutes.
Wednesday tested the brakes.
Acceleration.
Parking.
Turning circle.
Every feature imaginable.
She even drove over a speed bump twice because she disliked her first assessment of the suspension.
When they returned, Martin was waiting by the drive with two mugs.
He had apparently decided that if Wednesday was going to murder him, he might as well have tea first.
Wednesday parked.
Perfectly.
Of course.
She switched off the engine.
Enid looked at her.
“Well?”
Wednesday looked around the interior.
“The vehicle is satisfactory.”
“You love it.”
Wednesday opened the door.
“The word is excessive.”
“You’ve definitely named it.”
Silence.
Enid scrambled out after her.
“Tell me the name.”
“No.”
“Wednesday.”
“No.”
“Baby.”
Wednesday stopped walking.
Enid smiled.
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed.
“Emotional manipulation.”
“Effective emotional manipulation.”
“The name is Nero.”
Enid’s entire face lit up.
“You named your car Nero?”
“I considered Thanatos, but it seemed melodramatic.”
Enid stared at her.
Wednesday stared back.
Then Enid burst out laughing.
Wednesday walked towards Martin.
“You are intolerable.”
“And you love me.”
Wednesday did not deny it.
Martin handed Enid one of the mugs.
“Everything all right?”
“She loves it.”
“It is satisfactory.”
Martin smiled.
“Thought so.”
Wednesday opened her notebook again.
Enid’s smile vanished.
“No.”
“I have six questions remaining.”
“Six?”
“Yes.”
“I thought we were nearly done.”
“We are.”
Martin sipped his tea.
“Go on, then.”
Enid looked at him.
“Don’t encourage her.”
Wednesday ignored her.
“Have you ever transported animals in it?”
“Dog. Labrador. Boot liner, though.”
Wednesday nodded.
“Any damage?”
“No.”
“Has the vehicle ever been used off-road?”
“No.”
“Stored outside?”
“Mostly garage.”
“Any recurring electrical faults?”
“No.”
“Have you ever lost either set of keys?”
“No.”
Wednesday ticked something.
Enid counted silently.
Five.
Thank God.
One question left.
Wednesday looked at the boot.
Enid followed her gaze.
No.
No, no.
Absolutely not.
Wednesday closed the notebook.
Then reopened it.
Martin waited.
Enid stared at her girlfriend.
Wednesday looked completely serious.
Of course she did.
“How many adult bodies do you estimate could be placed in the boot simultaneously without preventing it from closing?”
Silence.
A bird chirped somewhere in a nearby tree.
A car drove past.
Someone was mowing a lawn three houses down.
Martin lowered his mug.
Enid stared straight ahead.
Wednesday looked at her.
Enid did not move.
“Enid.”
“No.”
“You have been translating.”
“Nope.”
Martin’s mouth twitched.
Wednesday raised one eyebrow.
Enid pointed at her without looking.
“I can’t translate that.”
“You translated the others.”
“I cannot make that sound better than what it is.”
“I merely require an estimate.”
“Then you are on your own.”
Wednesday looked at Martin.
Martin looked at Wednesday.
Then, astonishingly, he walked over to the boot.
Enid’s jaw dropped.
Martin opened it.
He stared inside.
Considered.
Wednesday joined him.
Enid remained where she was.
“No.”
Neither listened.
Martin scratched his chin.
“Adults?”
“Yes.”
“Average size?”
“Approximately.”
“Whole?”
Enid made a strangled noise.
Wednesday nodded.
“Preferably.”
“PREFERABLY?”
Martin looked deeper into the boot.
“Three comfortably.”
Wednesday considered.
“Only three?”
“Four if you folded them a bit.”
Enid’s mouth fell open.
Wednesday stepped closer.
“At the knees?”
“Probably.”
“Wouldn’t the shoulders create difficulty?”
“Depends how you arranged them.”
Enid pointed between them.
“What is happening?”
Martin shrugged.
“You asked.”
“I did not!”
Wednesday looked thoughtful.
“What if they were stacked?”
Martin leaned sideways.
“Could maybe manage four.”
“Five?”
“Bit ambitious.”
“I dislike inefficiency.”
Enid slapped both hands over her face.
“This is my life now.”
Wednesday looked towards her.
“You volunteered to come.”
“I thought we were buying a car!”
“We are.”
“You’re discussing human Tetris with Martin!”
Martin laughed into his tea.
Wednesday frowned.
“The comparison is inaccurate. Tetris pieces are geometrically consistent.”
Enid dropped her hands.
“That is the part you objected to?”
Wednesday turned back to Martin.
“Four, then.”
“I’d say four.”
“Acceptable.”
Enid stared at them.
Martin closed the boot.
“So?”
Wednesday looked at the car.
Then at Martin.
“I’ll take it.”
Martin smiled.
“Excellent.”
Enid blinked.
“That’s it?”
Wednesday nodded.
“You’re buying it?”
“Yes.”
“After everything we just did?”
“I was always likely to purchase it.”
Enid stared.
“Then why did we ask thirty-seven questions?”
“Due diligence.”
“One of them was how many bodies fit in the boot!”
“An important metric.”
“For what?”
Wednesday looked at her.
Enid waited.
Martin waited.
Wednesday’s expression did not change.
“Contingencies.”
Enid closed her eyes.
Martin laughed again.
“I’ll get the paperwork.”
He disappeared towards the house.
Enid turned slowly to Wednesday.
They were alone beside the car.
“Contingencies?”
“Yes.”
“You are never allowed to use that boot without telling me first.”
“That seems impractical.”
“Wednesday.”
“I may need groceries.”
“You don’t buy groceries.”
“I occasionally buy groceries.”
“You buy six things and carry them in one bag.”
Wednesday stepped closer.
Enid crossed her arms.
“I am wounded by your lack of trust.”
“You asked a stranger how many corpses fit in your car.”
“Bodies.”
“That is not better.”
“I never specified corpses.”
Enid froze.
Wednesday’s face remained perfectly neutral.
Enid stared at her.
Then slowly pointed.
“No.”
Wednesday’s mouth twitched.
Enid’s eyes widened.
“You’re messing with me.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“You are!”
Wednesday turned away.
Enid caught her wrist.
Wednesday stopped.
“Wednesday Addams.”
“Yes?”
“You absolute menace.”
“An unsupported accusation.”
Enid laughed.
She couldn’t help it.
The whole morning finally caught up with her.
The pedestrians.
The blood.
The child locks.
The obstruction sensor.
The arm.
The bodies.
Martin apparently being perfectly willing to calculate corpse capacity like he was discussing suitcase space.
Enid laughed until her eyes watered.
Wednesday watched her.
Patiently.
Fondly, though almost nobody else would have recognised it.
When Enid finally managed to breathe again, she stepped closer and hooked both arms around Wednesday’s waist.
“You’re lucky I love you.”
Wednesday’s hands settled at Enid’s hips.
“I have never relied on luck.”
“No?”
“No.”
Wednesday leaned in.
Her lips brushed Enid’s forehead.
“I relied on your questionable judgement.”
Enid gasped.
“That was almost sweet and then you ruined it.”
“I improved it.”
“You absolutely did not.”
Wednesday kissed her properly.
Brief.
Soft.
Enough to make Enid forget, momentarily, that her girlfriend had just assessed a vehicle according to theoretical corpse capacity.
When Wednesday pulled back, Enid smiled.
“So.”
“So?”
“Your first car.”
Wednesday glanced towards it.
Nero sat gleaming on the drive.
Black paint.
Black leather.
Large boot.
Apparently capable of accommodating four average-sized adults with strategic knee placement.
Wednesday looked pleased.
Actually pleased.
Enid smiled.
Martin reappeared carrying a folder and his phone.
“Right. Paperwork.”
Enid glanced between the folder and Wednesday.
There it was.
The final stage.
Actual normal car buying.
No questions about decomposition.
No discussions about load distribution.
Just money.
Forms.
Keys.
She could handle this.
Martin set the folder on the bonnet.
“I’ve got the service history, MOT certificates and receipts in here. Both keys. Locking wheel nut’s in the glovebox. And I can do the change of keeper online now.”
Wednesday took the folder.
She opened it.
Of course she did.
Enid stared at her.
“You’re checking it again?”
“Yes.”
“You checked all of that before the test drive.”
“I am verifying that nothing has spontaneously ceased to exist during the intervening twenty-seven minutes.”
Martin laughed.
Enid pointed at him.
“You’ve become part of the problem.”
“I’m starting to enjoy myself.”
“Of course you are.”
Wednesday checked the documents.
Every page.
Every receipt.
Every stamped service entry.
Martin waited patiently.
Apparently once you had discussed fitting four human beings into a boot, watching someone verify a brake-fluid receipt became remarkably unremarkable.
Finally Wednesday closed the folder.
“Acceptable.”
Enid looked at Martin.
“That means she’s happy.”
“I gathered.”
Wednesday gave Enid a flat look.
Martin reached for his phone.
“So, payment. Bank transfer all right?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. I’ll give you the details.”
Wednesday already had her phone in her hand.
Enid blinked.
Wednesday entered the information.
Checked it.
Then checked it again.
Martin read out the account number.
Wednesday compared it to the screen.
“Again.”
Martin paused.
“The account number?”
“Yes.”
He repeated it.
Wednesday checked it.
“Sort code.”
He repeated that too.
Wednesday entered the amount.
Enid peered over her shoulder.
“Are you checking whether Martin has secretly changed his bank account in the last nine seconds?”
“I am ensuring I do not send a substantial sum of money to an unintended recipient.”
“That was almost normal.”
Wednesday ignored her.
She turned the screen towards Martin.
“Confirm the details.”
Martin checked them.
“Yep. That’s right.”
Wednesday pressed the button.
A moment later Martin’s phone chimed.
He looked down.
Then smiled.
“Got it.”
Enid spread both hands.
“There! Money exchanged. Car purchased. Completely ordinary human transaction.”
Wednesday looked at her.
“You appear disproportionately excited by electronic banking.”
“I’m excited because nobody mentioned bodies for nearly four minutes.”
Martin snorted.
Wednesday slipped her phone back into her pocket.
“Your standards for excitement are concerning.”
“My standards changed approximately thirty-seven questions ago.”
Martin began completing the keeper transfer.
Wednesday stood beside him and watched the entire process with sufficient intensity that Enid suspected the DVLA website itself might feel judged.
A few minutes later, Martin looked up.
“Done.”
Wednesday’s gaze moved to the screen.
“Confirmation?”
“Just come through.”
He showed her.
Wednesday read it.
Then nodded once.
Enid stared.
“That’s it?”
“Yes,” Martin said.
“That’s actually it?”
Martin laughed.
“That’s actually it.”
He handed Wednesday both sets of keys.
For the first time all morning, Wednesday went completely still.
Just for a second.
The keys rested in her palm.
Her keys.
Her car.
Her first car.
Enid saw the tiny shift in her expression.
There and gone.
But she caught it.
Of course she did.
Wednesday curled her fingers around the keys.
Martin handed her the document folder.
“Everything’s yours.”
Wednesday looked towards Nero.
The black paint caught the sunlight.
Enid grinned.
Martin followed her gaze.
“You picked a good one.”
Wednesday glanced at him.
“I am aware.”
Enid groaned.
“You could just say thank you.”
Wednesday looked at Martin.
“Thank you.”
Martin smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
He paused.
Then glanced at Enid.
“And thank you for translating.”
Enid pointed at him.
“I gave up at the bodies.”
“Understandable.”
Wednesday’s expression sharpened.
“My questions were entirely comprehensible.”
“Comprehensible isn’t the issue, baby.”
Martin laughed again.
Wednesday slid one set of keys into her pocket and kept the other in her hand.
Martin stepped away from the car.
“Well.”
He looked at Wednesday.
Then at Nero.
“Enjoy your new car.”
Wednesday looked at the vehicle for a moment.
Her vehicle.
Then back at Martin.
“I intend to.”
Enid’s smile softened.
There it was.
For Wednesday, that was practically bouncing up and down screaming with excitement.
Martin apparently understood too.
He nodded towards the boot.
“And try to keep it to four.”
Enid’s head snapped towards him.
Martin grinned.
Wednesday regarded him with considerably more approval than she had displayed at any previous point that morning.
“A sensible limitation.”
“Oh my God.”
Martin laughed.
“I’m joking.”
Enid stared at him.
“You’ve been around her for two hours and she’s corrupted you.”
“I prefer educated.”
Wednesday nodded.
“Correct.”
“No. Absolutely not. You two are not allowed to become friends.”
Martin held up his hands.
“I’ll leave you to it.”
He started back towards the house, then turned.
“Seriously. Enjoy it.”
Wednesday gave him a small nod.
“Thank you.”
Martin went inside.
Enid waited until the front door closed.
Then turned.
“So.”
Wednesday looked at her.
“You actually own a car.”
“Yes.”
“Your first car.”
“Yes.”
“You paid for it.”
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed.
“Were you under the impression I intended to steal it?”
Enid stared.
“You know what? After this morning, I genuinely don’t know what I was supposed to think.”
Wednesday opened the driver’s door.
Enid followed.
“Want me to drive yours home so you can get used to it?”
“No.”
Enid blinked.
“No?”
“You are not driving Nero.”
Enid stared.
“You’ve owned him for thirty seconds.”
“Seven minutes.”
“Of course you know that.”
“Correct.”
“And I’m already banned?”
“You once reversed into a wheelie bin.”
“It came out of nowhere!”
“It was stationary.”
“It was dark!”
“It was fluorescent green.”
Enid narrowed her eyes.
“Fine.”
Wednesday looked smug.
“Can I at least choose the music?”
“No.”
“Passenger rights.”
“No.”
“Girlfriend rights.”
Wednesday paused.
Enid grinned.
Got her.
Wednesday sighed.
“One song.”
“Yes!”
“Provided it contains no ukulele.”
Enid pulled out her phone.
“Two songs.”
“One.”
“Three.”
“One.”
“Two and I promise not to tell Bianca about the body-capacity question.”
Wednesday stared at her.
Enid smiled sweetly.
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I absolutely would.”
“Blackmail.”
“Girlfriend support.”
Wednesday stared at her for several seconds.
Then:
“Two songs.”
Enid beamed.
“Pleasure doing business with you.”
Wednesday leaned closer.
“You have forgotten something.”
“What?”
Wednesday’s lips touched her ear.
“Bianca would want to know whether Martin’s estimate accounted for rigor mortis.”
Enid went completely still.
Wednesday stepped away.
Walked towards her new car.
Opened the driver’s door.
Enid stared after her.
“WEDNESDAY!”
Wednesday got in.
Enid hurried around to the passenger side.
“You cannot say things like that and walk away!”
Wednesday started the engine.
“Apparently I can.”
“Was that a joke?”
Wednesday pulled her seatbelt across.
“Get in, Enid.”
“Was it?”
“Your allotted songs are diminishing.”
Enid scrambled into the passenger seat.
“This conversation is not over.”
Wednesday shifted into gear.
“It rarely is.”
Enid stared at her girlfriend.
Then at the dashboard.
Then over her shoulder towards the boot.
She pointed backwards.
“For the record, if I ever find a body in there, I’m breaking up with you.”
Wednesday pulled smoothly away from the kerb.
“One?”
Enid looked at her.
“What?”
“You said a body.”
Wednesday’s expression remained serene.
“Your previous objection concerned capacity.”
Enid stared.
Wednesday’s mouth twitched.
And Enid realised, far too late, that at some point during the morning Wednesday had stopped asking disturbing questions because she genuinely required the answers.
Now she was simply enjoying herself.
Enid sank back into her seat.
“You’re horrible.”
Wednesday reached across.
Took Enid’s hand.
Interlaced their fingers.
Then rested them together against her thigh.
“I bought you a car with sufficient luggage capacity for weekend trips.”
Enid looked down at their joined hands.
Then at Wednesday.
“That’s your defence?”
“Yes.”
Enid tried very hard not to smile.
Failed.
“Fine.”
Wednesday glanced sideways.
“Fine?”
“You’re forgiven.”
“I had not apologised.”
“I know.”
They drove for several seconds in comfortable silence.
Then Wednesday said:
“Four is still a disappointingly low number.”
Enid dropped her head against the window.
“Jesus Christ.”
Beside her, Wednesday smiled.
And Nero carried them home.