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“Whoa, easy there, old horse,” Lucy called out, slamming her hands on the dashboard in front of her, as if preparing for an imminent impact.
“Sorry,” replied Jerry, glancing over to her for a moment, and offering a smile. “I just hate it when idiots dawdle in the middle lane, and only drive at 50 miles an hour.”
Jerry had initially asserted that he was driving down to Cornwall alone. But Lucy had other ideas and insisted that she be allowed to accompany him.
Once they reached the motorway, Lucy programmed the address Dan had given Jerry into Google, and they settled themselves in for the long drive.
By half-past eight, they had been on the road for more than five hours and, although she had offered to share the driving, Jerry insisted on taking the wheel. When Lucy cracked a joke a
