3
LUNCH IN COFETE
When the minibus pulled up in the car park outside the restaurant, the lads in the back cheered. Francois killed the engine and exited the driver’s seat, rounding the front of the vehicle to open the side door. Keen to be the first off, the matrons swung round in their seats. Richard was still gripping his. Clarissa took in the look of terror in his eyes and began to wonder why he bothered coming if he was that scared of heights. Maybe he hadn’t known about the road to Cofete.
Fred said, ‘There you go, Margaret. It wasn’t too bad.’
Clarissa wasn’t sure Margaret agreed with him, judging by the pale expression on her face.
The tour party decanted, the matrons leading the way, followed by Fred and Margaret and then Simon, his perfume trailing behind him like a wraith. C
