“Madam, I need you to stay here.”
“She’s doing this because of some stupid argument!”
I called back, “Twenty-two stupid arguments, actually.”
Denise looked like she wanted to throw something.
“You could have knocked!”
I nearly laughed.
“I did.”
“You could have knocked this morning!”
“At half past five?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“So I could move it!”
I stared at her.
That was the first time in weeks she’d admitted that moving it was, in fact, possible.
The officer asked, “Have you previously been asked not to obstruct this driveway?”
Denise immediately said, “No.”
I put my coffee down.
“Would you like the photographs?”
She turned.
“What photographs?”
I held up my phone.
“The twenty-two photographs.”
Her face went blank.
The officer looked at me.
“Can you send those to the case number?”
“Already did.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
I had uploaded 19 of them while I waited for the truck.
The last three were still attaching.
But emotionally, I felt it counted.
Denise folded her arms.
“This is harassment.”
The officer remained calm.
“Documenting a vehicle obstructing private access isn’t harassment.”
“She’s been photographing my house.”
“I photographed your car.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
The driver continued attaching equipment.
Denise heard the metal clank and spun around.
“You’re not towing it.”
The officer explained that she had an opportunity to deal with the matter before removal, depending on the enforcement procedure, but there would still be a penalty.
Denise looked stunned.
“How much?”
When he told her, her mouth dropped open.
“That’s ridiculous.”
I picked up my coffee again.
“You’ll survive.”
The silence that followed was beautiful.
I hadn’t planned to say it.
Honestly.
It just came out.
Denise looked at me with pure hatred.
Then from behind me came a small voice.
“Mum?”
I turned.
My six-year-old, Oliver, stood in the hallway in dinosaur pajamas.
“Why’s Mrs. Denise shouting?”
Before I could answer, my eight-year-old, Ben, appeared behind him.
Then he saw the recovery truck.
His eyes widened.
“Is her car getting arrested?”
The driver snorted.
I covered my mouth.
“No, sweetheart.”
“Cars can get arrested?”
“No.”
Oliver looked disappointed.
Denise snapped, “Can you keep your children inside?”
That did it.
I stepped out of my doorway.
“Do not bring my children into this.”
“They’re standing there staring.”
“They’ve spent three mornings sitting in my car while you made them late for school.”
“I never made anyone late.”
Ben said, very helpfully, “You did.”
