"David Garnett - Off The Track (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Garnett David)

Off the Track
a short story by David Garnett

They drove on down the road. Stretching ahead to the horizon, it was
straight and empty. An hour had passed since they'd seen another
vehicle;
an hour before that, they'd taken the wrong road.
Michael had realised his mistake almost at once but had said nothing.
It
would make little real difference.
He kept his speed down. If they went any faster, the cracks and
potholes
in the road shook the car too much. Not that he cared about the hired
car,
but there was no hurry. They were on holiday -- or supposed to be.
"There's nothing," said Angela, as she turned the radio dial.
"Nothing."
Michael heard all kinds of different sounds fading in and out between
the
crackles of interference -- news reports, advertising and sports
commentary; a string quartet, a choir singing hymns and a swing band --
but Angela switched the radio off and leaned back in her seat.
He watched from the corner of his eye as she looked down at the book in
her lap and turned the page. Michael couldn't believe Angela was as
bored
as she pretended. She kept complaining about the heat, saying they
should
have hired a car with air conditioning; but he knew she wouldn't have
complained about the heat if she'd been stretched out on a beach. Her
window was wound down, and the hot desert wind blew her hair back.
Angela could be on the beach again in a few days when they went back,
but
this was his part of the holiday, something he'd always wanted to do.
He had not been disappointed. The desolate landscape and the distant
rock
formations were even more spectacular than he'd imagined. He liked
everything about the place; he even liked the potholed road.
Driving was meant to be like this, without long queues, without being
jammed solid in a city street. Back in Britain, there was nowhere he
could
have driven as far without having to stop. The same was true wherever
he'd
travelled in Europe.
They had driven through Holland and Germany, France and Spain and
Portugal, but always in their own car. This was the first time Michael
had
driven a left-hand drive vehicle, and he was surprised how soon he got
used to it. Angela had refused to drive, another demonstration of her
feelings about this part of the holiday.
"Town coming up," said Michael, as he saw the signpost at the side of