The Vintage Ice Cream Van Road Trip (Cherry Pie Island - Book 2) by Jenny Oliver

Author:Jenny Oliver [Oliver, Jenny]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Humorous, Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Women, General
ISBN: 9781474030809
Google: AqcQBgAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00RTQCX76
Publisher: Carina
Published: 2015-04-27T04:00:00+00:00

Holly woke up with her head resting on the knees of the policewoman. Tiny and elfin, she smiled down at Holly and offered her a sip of water.

Holly struggled to sit up. Then, taking the bottle with a smile and a ‘merci’, took a great gulp and tipped some into her hand and rubbed it on her face.

The woman put her hand on her shoulder to steady her.

She heard Wilf shouting something and looked over to see him being bundled into the back of the police car along with the van driver. ‘Where are they taking him?’ she asked.

The policewoman shook her head and gave Holly a little smile. ‘They are a little hot,’ she said, pointing to her head, ‘We take them to cool off.’

‘Are you arresting him?’ Holly tried to stand up but lost her balance, and the woman tried to encourage her to stay sitting.

‘Mais non, just a little time to sit. Oui?’ she said.

Holly nodded, quite pleased it was completely out of her hands. ‘Oui.’

‘Holly?’ Wilf shouted.

‘Yeah?’ she shouted back.

‘Are you OK?’

‘Yeah,’ she said, still mad with him for his driving, for his stupidness.

‘Is the baby OK?’

‘Yeah the baby’s OK,’ she shouted back, softening slightly when she saw him leaning out the car, his cuffed hands resting on the wound-down window.

The siren started.

‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

‘Yes!’ she shouted. Shaking her head at the policewoman who rolled her lips into a little smile.

‘Are you going to come to the station?’ he shouted over the siren, but the car pulled away before she could reply.

‘This van, it is very exciting, n’est pas?’ the policewoman said.

‘C’est pour la glace,’ Holly replied.

The policewoman laughed, ‘Mais oui. Camionette des glaces,’ she said and Holly repeated it as she strolled over to look at the little stickers of ice creams on the window and look up at the forget-me-not patterned ceiling of the van. ‘C'est tres tres jolie, very pretty,’ she said, then asked, ‘We go and get your husband?’

‘Oui,’ Holly said. ‘But, just for the record, he’s most definitely not my husband.’

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