Colin and Chloe, sitting at the back, looked sadly and soulfully at the passing landscape. The sky was overcast. Red birds flew as low as the telegraph wires, going up and down with the same monotonous rhythm, and their harsh piercing shrieks echoed back from the leaden water of the long never-ending puddles. ‘Why are we coming this way?’ Chloe asked Colin. ‘It’s a short cut,’ said Colin. ‘But you are forced to take it. The main road is worn out. Everyone kept on using it because the weather was always fine there – and now there’s only this road left. Don’t worry. Nicholas is a very good driver.’ ‘It’s this unusual light,’ said Chloe. Her heart was beating fast, as if it had been squeezed inside a stiff, crusty shell. Colin put his arm round Chloe and, slipping his hand under her hair, playfully pinched the back of her graceful neck as if he were picking up a little kitten. ‘Oh …’ said Chloe, letting her head sink into her shoulders while Colin tickled her.
