Ethel and the Naked Spy by Marc Lovel

Author:Marc Lovel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-12-13T00:00:00+00:00

Apple yawned. The spasm came not from tiredness but nerves, he recognised. Here it was midafternoon already, the hours flitting past like birds late home, and no progress whatever had been made—except by Defector, who was getting ever closer to his destination.

Matters were worsened for Apple by the motorcade’s pace, which was being set at a spanking dirge by the leader. Dr. Mavis Whittington drove her little blue MG as though she were afraid of disturbing whatever archaeological finds might lie beneath the road.

Not for the first time, Apple considered passing the caravan and leaving it behind. As before, what stopped him was having no ideas as to what he would do then; or so he guessed, avoiding that it could be because he didn’t want to appear the outsider to the others, especially Prunella.

In spite of his tension, Apple couldn’t help but admire the sight whenever a long, open curve obliged: a dozen codger automobiles in immaculate condition, ranging from a tiny Fiat to the big Buick, from a cheap Austin 7 to Jacob Planter’s luxury Cord convertible.

Buildings appeared. Modern, they formed a town’s outer suburb, with businesses standing back from the road, wide here. Apple nodded approval as Dr. Whittington led her followers to a trickly halt.

There were two places offering refreshments/restrooms. The debate over which to patronise was in full fume when Apple reached the frontward assembly, after taking care to lock Ethel. Some people were for the closest, which was indoors, some for the terrace cafe farther along where parking was out but from where the cars could be watched.

A woman, eyes canny, suggested the posting of guards, if the closest was to be used. A man asked for volunteers. When everyone had stopped looking at everyone else, the woman broke the silence: “To the terrace we go.”

It was a quarter hour before they were settled and served, at three adjoining tables. Apple, out-skirmished, got left off the table Prunella and Jacob Planter shared with another couple. He sipped his pop aggressively.

In among the talk of the place they would stay at tonight, this side of Passau, and of tomorrow’s crossing into Austria, and whether or not it was going to rain again, there were running comments on the motorcade’s audience. As always, the old cars had attracted a collection of admirers, prompting:

“That rotten little boy’s going to climb right on top of my Sarah any minute.”

“If we had the time I’d offer to give those girls a spin.”

“That official is such a nosy sod.”

“I bet the old boy there had a Fiat like yours once.”

“If only they’d keep their hands off.”

“I could’ve sworn the official passed us ten minutes ago, after that last arrow.”

“No, I don’t think he did.”

Looking away from where Jacob Planter had his arm on the back of Prunella’s chair, looking toward the cars, Apple saw a figure in knee-length dustcoat and billowy cap. The ensemble goggles were over the eyes, which alerted Apple more than his vague recollection that the dustcoat should reach down to the ankles.

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