Mr Wrong
“Nobody answered him. Ruth, his wife, was so exhausted by having tried to prevent an embarrassing row in front of the girls – their sixteen-year-old daughter and a friend – that she literally couldn’t think of anything to say. Julie didn’t want to prolong any of the interminable grown-up talk that seemed to accompany the slightest grown-up plan, and Christine, the friend, was examining with her compact mirror something on her cheekbone that was either a mosquito bite or worse, possibly a spot of... some kind.
They got slowly out of the car. It was intensely hot, and the tall trees that edged one side of the park were so dusty that they were hardly green at all. Throngs of people in holiday clothes, dark glasses and irrelevant hats wandered to and fro from the cars, the tourist stall placed under a bluff of the rocky cliff by the road, and the road to the river. The moment that they were all out of the car, they started to separate: the girls gravitated to the stall where hideous wares were constantly stared at and fingered, but seemed hardly ever to be bought.MoreLess
They got slowly out of the car. It was intensely hot, and the tall trees that edged one side of the park were so dusty that they were hardly green at all. Throngs of people in holiday clothes, dark glasses and irrelevant hats wandered to and fro from the cars, the tourist stall placed under a bluff of the rocky cliff by the road, and the road to the river. The moment that they were all out of the car, they started to separate: the girls gravitated to the stall where hideous wares were constantly stared at and fingered, but seemed hardly ever to be bought.MoreLess
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