Automatically he said, “Don’t talk such nonsense. You’re a young woman.” She and the other old women paid him to say things like that.
“You mustn’t tell untruths. I’m not young, Gerry, but I’m not old. I’m in the best years of my life.”
Hamsley shuddered.
Out of the darkness a two−seater slid up to them. The young mechanic got out quickly and stood holding open the door. Hamsley felt completely trapped. She’d arranged everything.
The mechanic winked at him and made a sign with his hand. Hamsley climbed in beside Mrs. Poison, ignoring him. He could have wept with shame.
He said desperately, “It’s cold out here. You sure you won’t catch cold? Maybe we ought to get back.”
“Oh no!” She gave a giggling little laugh. “It’s cold now. But we’ll be warm soon.”
There, she had said it. He knew beyond any doubt now. His hand shook as he engaged the gears and let the clutch in with a jerk. “Where shall we go?” he said, driving the car slowly into the road.
“Go straight. I’ll tell you.” She leant against him. He could feel her soft hot body pressing into his shoulder.
He drove down the road for a couple of miles, then she told him to turn off to the left. He could hear the tyres bite into the dirt road, and the trees overhead blotted out the sky.