18
‘Come on, Cissie, what’s the hold-up?’ George yelled down the hall.
‘I’m trying to find my gloves. Have you seen them?’ she called back.
‘No.’
She rifled through her top drawer again. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve found them.’
They were leaving for Wellington. Scotty had called for a meeting with the crew.
‘Good, now hurry up and get in the car. If we don’t start moving now it’ll be after lunch when we get there. They’ll be wondering where we’ve got to.’
‘You don’t need to shout, George,’ Cissie said with a frown.
Charlie leapt into the car.
‘Not today, boy. Out you hop,’ said George.
The dog refused to budge and began to whine, a noise which, on that day, infuriated his master.
‘Get out!’ George reached in and grabbed the dog’s collar, wrenching him out on to the driveway. ‘Bloody mutt
