Fred is Lost

Fred was a chauffeur. He never really wanted to be a chauffeur. He wanted to be a milkman. But when it became apparent, in his twenties, that he was lactose-intolerant, the perceived perks diminished rapidly.

So, a chauffeur he became. He spends his days driving Miss Julie, as it were. More often, he is simply running errands for Miss Julie who prefers to lay about with her sketchpad and pencils and dream of being an artist.

Today’s errand is to the art supplies store in the city. Miss Julie has arranged a “click and collect” order, which means that she clicks, and Fred collects. So, with peaked hat on head and water bottle in the cupholder, he sets off to help make dreams come true.

The disembodied voice of the sat-nav urges him to turn here and there, left and right. The sun beats through the window. He drains his water bottle. There is no art supplies store on the horizon, which is beginning to glow as sunset approaches.

Fred is lost.

Rounding a roundabout for the third time, Fred pulls into a nearby carpark and shuts off the engine. He removes his hat and lays it on the dashboard, its peak resting on the steering wheel.

And that is how the car was found the next morning: empty water bottle, abandoned hat, no Fred.

He never really wanted to be a chauffeur anyway.