They hadn’t packed extra coats. For David, this was extremely odd, as he was forever packing down the old Vauxhall with various jackets, hats and scarfs. You never know, you might need them.
But this trip had been unplanned, the turning left instead of right had led them here. They had been bickering like children; David determined that if he had only listened to himself, they would be on the correct road by now, heading to the pub that they had planned to visit.
She had laughed at him, shaking her head at his pedantic ways and eating the last packet of crisps. David’s eyes came off the road for a moment, watching her shaking the packet into her mouth, catching the last little crumbs. One fell onto her cream woollen jumper, just above her breast.
How he hated the smell of cheese and onion. Turning back to the winding road, he could feel the smell moving about the car. She had insisted on the windows being up, so that it felt ‘cosy.’
He was just considering hitting the brakes and putting the old machine into reverse, when the sand banks on the left side of the road disappeared.
What a view.
She had immediately pulled her bare feet off the dashboard and sat up straight, her eyes widening to take in the coloured horizon. Pull over she said. Please, pull over. She turned to him, the deep orange glow of the setting sun illuminating her eager face. Please?
They were late as it was. But, then, if they carried on and turned right as soon as possible….
He sighed, feeling her stare upon his cheek. She gently placed her hand on his arm.
Looking into the small mirror for the non-existent traffic, he congratulated himself and flicked the indicator.