Sunshine Yellow Read Online Free PDF Page B

or with a glib sound to it ... a word that she could treasure, even if it was only her name, spoken with the right sort of intonation.
    But when he said her name at last it was with sudden soberness. He must have sensed how desolate she felt, sitting there on the seat beside him, close to him yet many miles removed from him, because there was no real bond between them. Not even a spark of genuine affection—on his side, at least. And she was only twenty-four, and she looked very slight and attractive in the dark green suit and the heavy top-coat that was a mixture of greens, like the occasional flecks in her huge brown eyes.
    “Poor Penny!” he said, and there was genuine remorse in his voice as one of his hands left the wheel and covered hers. “This isn’t good enough for you, is it? Not a wedding day like this!”
    She said nothing, because the lump started steadily to grow in her throat, and he stared ahead through the windscreen, which was becoming misted with a fine rain that was partly sea spray as they drew near to the sea.
    “I’m sorry, Penny,” he said suddenly, with grave politeness. “I don’t suppose I should have drunk all that champagne at one go, but it seemed to help things a bit.” She saw him gnaw hard at his lower lip, and something inside her flinched and curled up in a kind of agony. “But you only had a very small glass of champagne, and you haven’t much to look forward to, have you?”
    On the boat he looked after her as if she was a small sister of whom he was very fond, and as she was a poor sailor—although she managed somehow not to be sick, in spite of it being rather rough—she was grateful for the warmth and the comfort of his protection.
    As she sat, tightly swathed in rugs, in a sheltered corner of the deck, where she could get enough salt - laden air to overcome the sensation of nausea, she found herself glancing in a secretive fashion at the bright gold ring on her finger, and the only comfort she had that day was in the knowledge that, from now on, she had a right to her husband’s protection.
    They had dinner soon after they landed, and then they set off on the drive to Paris through a night that was dark and dismal with softly falling rain. The surface of the road was wet and glistening, and every time a car passed them its sidelights lit up the glistening surface. Stephen’s mood had altered yet again since they left the boat, and he was morose and taciturn as he sat behind the wheel.
    Because of the poor visibility, and the fact that it was some time since he had driven on the wrong side of the road on the Continent, he decided against going straight through to Paris, where rooms were reserved for them at one of the bigger hotels; and, between struggling with a faulty windscreen-wiper that refused to function, and endeavouring to get the better of a mood of black depression that almost certainly had something to do with the inclemency of the night, he told Penny that he would stop at the next town of any size and make inquiries about accommodations for the night.
    Penny didn’t really care what he did, the blackness and the dampness and the frustration of the man beside her making her feel that nothing was any longer of the smallest consequence. She knew now that she had made a dreadful mistake, and Stephen knew it too, and he was trying to rise above his mounting consternation by swearing softly at the windscreen-wiper, and cursing every motorist who passed them without dipping his lights.
    Penny knew that, normally, he would never have behaved like that, with a very new bride beside him.
    If, for instance, she was Veronica, and the same conditions prevailed, they wouldn’t matter at all.
    She heard him apostrophizing petulantly the glassy surface of the road, and then a car came travelling towards them at terrific speed. Stephen had been letting his car out somewhat unwisely considering the conditions that annoyed him so much, and as the other car came on and its