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

She shrugged, then studied the silver bracelet around her wrist, lightly
rubbing at the turquoise stone with her thumb.
"Some of it is alright," she said. "I suppose."
Even after so long together, Michael was always amazed how much Angela
could say in a few words. Almost as much as she could say with a single
look.
As far as she was concerned, they could have returned an hour after
crossing the border. By then she'd bought everything she wanted from the
handful of tourist shops clustered on the northern side of the frontier.
Michael had to admit that it all seemed good quality stuff, and of course
the prices were ridiculously cheap. Tourists had only been allowed in very
recently, and they'd had to buy their visas before they left Britain.
When it came to shopping, Angela was an expert; she could find what she
wanted almost immediately. She had bought hand-crafted jewellery and woven
rugs to take back as gifts. Michael had restricted her to the number of
rugs they could fit in a large suitcase, but told her to buy as much
jewellery as she wished н- and not to forget herself. Angela had tried to
persuade him to buy a pair of fancy leather boots, but Michael knew he
would never wear them. To keep her happy, he bought a snakeskin belt. He
would never wear that, either, but at least it was less bulky and a lot
cheaper.
That had been yesterday morning, and they had spent the night in an
approved hotel. Michael had filled the fuel tank before they crossed the
border, and again where the Volkswagen had been garaged for the night.
"If nothing else," said Angela, "perhaps we can get some lunch. Even if
they don't have petrol, they've got to eat."
"You want to risk it?"
"It can't be worse than some of the food we've eaten abroad, and it will
be a lot cheaper. We've got to try the local cuisine while we're here."
They had enough food, a packed lunch prepared at the hotel; but maybe
Angela was finally coming to terms with this trip.
"Just don't drink the water," said Michael, as one of them always did
wherever they went. "I wouldn't even put it in the radiator."
Angela nodded, then glanced back at Michael. "Air-cooled engine, right?"
she said. "I just wish this air would cool me." She fanned her face with
her book, then gazed out of the windscreen as they neared the town.
They had driven through several similar small towns, and compared to those
in Europe the roads were all very wide, even the side streets, and the
buildings were set far apart. None of them were very tall, many of them
only single storey. There was no need to build up when it was easier to
build out. If there was one thing in surplus here, it was land.
Michael wondered what possible reason there could be for a town out here
in the wilderness. Why had it ever been settled? Which came first, the
road or the town? Almost every building was built of wood. Nothing looked
new, nothing looked old. A decade or a century, it made little difference.
A swirl of dust blew across the street ahead of them, a reminder that the
desert was waiting to reclaim the whole area.
It only took a minute to reach the centre of town, and the road was lined
with shops on either side. At least half of them were boarded up or
derelict. Michael saw two other vehicles going by in the opposite