“‘What are you doing to me, Myrtle? We’re miles from anywhere and the weather’s foul. You can’t have a tantrum now. I didn’t mean it a mile or two back when I called you crabby.’ The ancient little car didn’t reply by so much as a cough or a splutter, but Marigold suspected there was a distinctly smug air of ‘You should think before you speak’ to Myrtle’s demeanour as the car’s four wheels settled themselves more comfortably into the two inches of snow coating the road in front of them. The old ...engine had been hiccuping for the last half an hour or so before dying completely. Great. Just great. Marigold peered out into the driving snow that was already coating the windscreen now the wipers had ceased their labouring. In another hour it would be dark, and here she was, stuck in the middle of nowhere and with what looked like a very cold walk in front of her. She couldn’t stay in the car—she’d freeze to death out here if no one came along—and for the last little while there hadn’t been sight of a house or any dwelling place on the road.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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