Annabel was looking forward to a rustic, quiet weekend in the country, but was it really better to travel hopefully than to arrive?
Since Monday morning, when the overhead projector failed during my major presentation, and Serena spilt coffee over the VIP visitors, I’d been looking forward to this weekend. Billy’s phone call had promised light at the end of the too-long tunnel: two days of fresh country air, relaxing in the Hunter Valley, touring vineyards, finally getting the chance to sink my teeth into my paperback copy of The latest John Grisham. Bliss!
Now, sitting in Billy’s car as he drove too fast along the country roads, I wasn’t so thrilled. The exhaust system on his throaty old V8 had developed a hole which seemed to get bigger with each kilometre, and if it wasn’t the noise giving me a headache, it was the fumes. Billy thought it terrifically funny.
“Sounds like I’ve got a forty thousand dollar engine under the bonnet!” He slapped the steering wheel, thoroughly amused by himself. Never one to take speed limits seriously, he accelerated until the shrubs at the side of the road became a blur. Luckily I’d developed nerves of steel ages ago. Continue reading