Ten and Two, by Constance Merrow

An original novel extract set in the twentieth century.

Pocock had driven for the Carrow family for nineteen years, and in all that time Mrs Carrow had never sat anywhere but the back seat of the Daimler, upright, gloved, and looking out of the window as if the county were a play put on for her benefit. So when she came down the steps on the first Monday in May and opened the front door of the car herself, he very nearly dropped the chamois leather.

‘You will teach me to drive,’ she said.

‘Madam?’

‘The Colonel is dead, Pocock, and my son is in Ceylon, and I do not intend to sit in this house waiting for someone to take me somewhere. You will teach me. We shall begin today.’

He had no answer that a chauffeur could give. He folded the chamois, walked round to the driver’s side and held that door open instead, and after a moment she understood and came round to it, settling behind the wheel with an expression of distaste, as though the seat itself were a little beneath her.

The lesson went badly. She could not grasp the clutch. She held the wheel at arm’s length, like a tray of drinks. When the engine stalled at the bottom of the drive for the third time she said, ‘This machine is impertinent,’ and Pocock, staring hard at the gatepost, said, ‘Yes, madam,’ in a voice so empty of expression that she turned and looked at him sharply.

‘You are laughing at me.’

‘No, madam.’

‘You are. Your ears have gone pink. The Colonel’s did the same.’

There was a silence. Pocock had carried the Colonel to the car on the last morning, when he could no longer manage the steps, and had driven him to the nursing home at twelve miles an hour so as not to jolt him. Neither of them had spoken of it since.

‘Again, please, madam,’ he said quietly. ‘Clutch down. Gently now. Imagine you are lowering a cup onto a saucer.’

She lowered the cup. The Daimler crept forward, through the gates and out onto the lane, and kept going. Mrs Carrow did not look out of the window at the county. She looked at the road, her lips pressed tight, her gloved hands at ten and two.

At the crossroads she stopped without stalling, and Pocock heard himself say, ‘Very good, madam,’ and mean it.

‘Thank you, Pocock,’ she said. Then, without turning her head: ‘Tomorrow you will show me how to go backwards.’

What impressions does the writer create of the relationship between Mrs Carrow and Pocock? How does the writer create these impressions?

You must refer to the language and structure used in the text to support your answer, using relevant subject terminology where appropriate.