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,' I said, shifting my bottom on the Sitting Board. We were in Yolanda's
latest hire car, heading south for Dudgeon Magna at high speed.
'They're fine; you look great in them. Hell, you smell great in them, honey!'
We hurtled round a corner. The car lurched and I had a strange sense that it
was pivoting. Yolanda swore and chuckled at the same time and did something
fancy with the steering wheel.
'What was that?' I asked, glancing at her.
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all
'Bad camber, tightening bend,' she said tersely. 'When will you people learn
to build roads properly?'
'At least,' I said, 'these trousers don't let me slip around so much on the
Sitting Board when you go round corners.'
'Yeah,' my grandmother chuckled, sounding like she was enjoying herself, 'keep
those buns well anchored. Haw haw haw.'
I gripped the sides of the seat as we went round another bend. I looked down.
'What are these buttons for?'
Yolanda glanced over. 'Seat adjustment. Electric.'
I nodded, impressed that disabled people were so well catered for in ordinary
automobiles. I grabbed the sides of the seat again for the next bend, and
duly found myself rising and tipping back in my seat. I
giggled, then gasped as we just missed an oncoming car.
'Ah; this bit isn't dual carriageway, Grandma.'
'I know that!& Why are these people flashing their lights at me?'
'Well, I don't think it's because they know you.'
'Wimps!'
*
The big, dark blue car swept into the drive of Clissold's Health Farm and
Country Club. We had encountered a few police vehicles, and passed a lay-by
where they were checking an old, decrepit-looking coach, but we hadn't been
stopped.
The Health Farm and Country Club proved to be a mansion with what looked like
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a giant conservatory tacked onto the back. I suppose I had been expecting
something more farm-like. The mansion's grounds looked old, neat and
manicured, just like the receptionist.
'I'm afraid Miss Whit checked out this morning.'
'Oh drat.'
'Shit!'
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'Did she say where she was going?' I asked.
'Well, I wouldn't be able to tell you if she had, but-'
'Oh for God's sakes; this is her cousin; and she's my-' Yolanda broke off and
looked at me, frowning.
'Hell, what Morag to me?'
is
I shrugged. 'Great-niece? Grand-niece?'
Yolanda turned back to the receptionist. 'Yeah, whatever,' she said, with
convincing decisiveness.
'Well, she didn't, anyway. Sorry.' The receptionist smiled. She didn't look
very sorry.
'Was she due to check out today?' I asked, trying to look sweet and reasonable
and in need of help.
'Let me see,' the receptionist said, lifting a pair of glasses from round her
neck and placing them on her nose. She keyed something into her computer,
then consulted the screen. 'No; she was due to stay until the end of the
week.'
'Damn!'
'Hmm,' I said.
'Oh, I remember,' the lady said, replacing her glasses on her cardigan. 'I do
believe she said she'd changed her plans because of something she'd seen on
the local news last night.'
Yolanda and I looked at each other.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
'I know you think I'm just a complaining old woman, Isis-'
'Not at-'
'-and I know you don't drive, but you must see what I mean.'
'Well-'
'I mean, it stands to reason; you go into a gas station and you get gas. You
get served; somebody fills your tank, maybe gets their hands dirty, checks
your oil, washes the bugs off your windshield, kicks the
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all tyres, whatever; you pay the bill, and that's all very fine& but you pull
into a gas station, you serve yourself
, you get your own hands dirty, maybe break a nail, for God's sakes; no oil
check, no windshield wash unless you do it yourself; and you pay the same
amount of money
! Now, really, I mean, come on;
does that seem reasonable to you
? Do you think that's right
?'
'Put like that-'
'I'm only asking you because maybe you can be objective because you don't
drive and maybe you haven't ever thought about all this, maybe you've never
noticed all this. I mean, you've never bin to the States, have you?'
'No.'
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