TWENTY-ONE
Della had only her flimsy, designer, town raincoat, and a scarf Jonas had found her. She wore her jeans from last night, the bottoms tucked into Jonas’s thick, Big Foot socks, and Angel’s lumpy bovver boots. Although the rain seemed to be holding off, there was a stiff breeze.
‘I will get you some wellies, what size feet do you have?’ Jonas asked.
She looked at him, questioning, ‘Six, but please don’t bother,’ and then she recalled Pansy and Angel’s flowery wellington boots. ‘Jonas,’ he looked up, ‘if you do get me some Roger Mellies can I have helicopter ones?’ He looked confused, ‘And if they don’t ‘ave helicopter, get me plane,’ and she and Beryl shared enjoyment of the look on his face as they disappeared out the door, skirted the only slightly receding lake, and headed o
