‘Darling, I care. I’m so terribly sorry. I’ve come to make it better.’
You stroked his forehead with cool fingers, smoothed his pillows, gave him a drink and told him to lie still.
‘That’s better. Thank you, Judy. Do stay with me.’
It was bliss looking after him. He had ceased to withdraw himself and be proud: he was utterly dependent. You bent and kissed his forehead....
Martin broke in upon her dream, saying: ‘Quite comfortable, Judith?’
And after he had adjusted the wind-screen, explained to her some of the devices on the dash-board, looked round to see that the others were all right, he addressed himself with satisfaction to his driving again, resuming his one-sided muttered conversations with his car and with passers-by.
‘Now, now, come along, old lady ... that’s right.... What’s the matter with you? Got a pain?... Well done, old girl....’ ‘Now, my dear sir, what are you up to?... Put out your hand, Madam, before you turn corners like that.... Look out, you little brutes, spinning tops in the road. Lucky for you I didn’t run you clear over.... Oh, so you think you can race me, do you? Well, try, that’s all.’
As a variant he read the signposts aloud.
Judith watched the deep-golden, dark-shadowed country slip by: its woods and fields wore a sullen empty look.
They reached their destination at tea-time, and walked down the steep slope to the edge of Monk’s Water.