As if to confirm their news, a red orb in the distance was eyeing us angrily….
"We turn to the right," said Piers. "I'll tell you when."
I glanced at the clock.
The hour was nine minutes past ten.
My teeth began to chatter of sheer excitement….
There was a turning ahead, and I glanced at Piers.
"Not yet," he said.
With a frantic eye on the clock, I thrust up that awful road. The traffic seemed to combine to cramp my style. I swerved, I cut in, I stole an odd yard, I shouldered other drivers aside, and once, confronted with a block, I whipped on to the broad pavement and, amid scandalised shouts, left the obstruction to stay less urgent business.
All the time I could see the relentless minute-hand beating me on the post….
At last Piers gave the word, and I switched to the right.