The car screeched to a stop.
“That’s it, Billy, I’ve had enough. If you think you can do better, you drive!”
Before Billy could answer Debbie had flung off her seatbelt and was clambering out of the car.
“Debs, don’t be like that. I’m sorry. I wasn’t having a go at you. It’s just this road is so quiet and this darkness is making me jumpy. Please, Debs, get back in the car.”
There was an ominous silence. Billy knew there was only one thing worse than his wife being angry and that was her not talking to him. He sighed, realizing he had a lot of making up to do. Climbing out of the car he said,
“Come on Debs. Talk to me, please. Tell you what, why don’t I drive for a bit and give you a rest. And I promise, no more moaning. What do you say, Debs, do you want me to drive?”
Billy walked to the back of the car expecting to find his wife standing there, arms folded, with that practised, ‘I’m not happy with you’ look on her face, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight.
“Debs, where are you? Come on, don’t be daft, it’s too dark for playing silly games. Debs …?”
The hand over her mouth and the knife at her throat stopped Debbie from answering her husband.