Charlotte Mooney - A Good Car

 

I was driving home. I'd been away from home for about a week, working in Portsmouth. It had been a really hard week, so I was desperate to get home. I had my four-year-old daughter in the back of the car and we were just rounding the final bend of the A3 about five minutes from my house. And the second we turned the corner, I knew that something was deeply wrong. It was like a giant hand had scattered the traffic in front of us. Cars were headed right and left, and all of the horns were blaring. And then, I saw that walking right down the central lane towards my car was an old man. 

 

I was probably going at about 50 miles an hour, and I slammed my brakes on and somehow, I managed to stop when he was only about a meter from me. He didn't break stride. He kept walking straight back right up to the car until he rested his fingertips on the bonnet, and then he kept going around the side up to the driver's windows. He was small, mid-70s, and well dressed with a button-down jacket and a hat. He bent his head through the window and he said to me, “I'm so sorry, I'm just going for a walk.” And then, he took three steps back, and a car came which between me and him. My daughter was in the back wide eyed, and I tried to reach to him and call to him, but by that time, he was off. He was weaving a line up the A3 through the cars. 

 

I drove home as quick as I could. I left my daughter with my partner and I rang the police and they said that they'd send out a car, but it'd be about 15 minutes. When I called them back 15 minutes later, they said, “Oh yeah, we couldn't find anyone matching that description. He's probably wandered off.” So, I got back in my car and I drove back up the A3 really hoping I wasn't going to find him. But almost immediately, I saw him walking down a parallel road. And by the time I had swung the car around and parked and got out, he was literally about to step his foot back onto the A3. I ran up to him and put my hand as gently as I could on his shoulder. He spun around and looked at me and said, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just walking home. I'm walking home.” And I said to him, “Would you like a lift?” Fully expecting that he'd say no, but he said yes. [audience laughter] 

 

As I walked him over to the car, I said, “Do you know your address?” And he said, “Of course. [audience laughter] It's number 4, Battersea. Is that right?” As I sat him down in my car, his legs gave way and I thought he might have walked from Battersea. I had a bottle of water in the footwell, which I gave to him, and he drank. And the only other thing I had were apples, so I said, “Would you like an apple?” And he said, “Have you got a knife to peel it?” And I said, no. [audience laughter] He didn't like to peel. He did something I've never seen anyone do before. He nibbled off every single shred of peel [audience laughter] before he took a single bite. It took him bloody ages. [audience laughter] 

 

Meanwhile, I went and called the police. They said, “Find out his name. We'll send a car.” And I called my friend, whose mum had dementia, and she said, “Just talk to him, Charlotte. Make sure he doesn't get distressed.” So, I hunkered down on the curb next to him and introduced myself. His name was Leslie. He had three children, Poppy and two sons, but their names changed as we talked. He used to be a mechanic in Dagenham. He was a good mechanic and he had a good car, a Mercedes. 

 

And if I asked him anything else, he'd start to get a bit twitchy and anxious like, “Why are we talking? Why aren't we going?” So, I would go back to the boot and fiddle around for a bit, and then I'd come back and we'd have the same conversation again. Poppy, Dagenham, mechanic, Mercedes. As long as I stuck to that, he didn't get distressed. He sat there, straight back, nibbling bits of apple peel and just watching the traffic pass. As far as he was concerned, I was finding the address and we were going to be leaving any minute. 

 

Eventually, after about three hours, the police rang back. They said, “There's no one lost by that name. Take him to a local police station.” The moment I started the engine, it's like, he came to life. He was literally stroking the dashboard. He said, “This is a good car. This is a quiet car. I used to have a good car. I had a Mercedes.” And then he said, “Charlotte, when they take your car, then you're really stuck.” I didn't know it was going to happen, but I started to cry and I was trying to hide this from him. But he saw and he reached out his hand and put it on my shoulder and said, “You're very tired.” 

 

When we got to Kingston police station, I helped him out of the car. His legs pretty much didn't work by this point. I noticed for the first time that he had odd shoes on, one suit shoe and one trainer. He tucked into me as we walked across the road as if we were old friends, he kept saying, “This is a good day. This is a fine day.” I took him into the police station, and the police officer took one look at him and she said, “Right. Cup of tea.” She took him from me and sat him in a chair. I left. And on the way out, I could still see his silhouette through the frosted glass. He was sat straight back on a plastic chair waiting. And I got to go back to my good quiet car, and I got to start the engine and I got to go home. Thank you.