The Way You Look Tonight Read Online Free Page B

Girton
going on
Sunday Night at the London Palladium
and larking about with Bruce Forsyth? You could hardly conceive of a more bizarre, unlikely scenario, could you? It doesn’t bear
thinking about.’
    The Lincoln suddenly dipped into a deep pothole. There was a sharp thump and groaning of suspension, and Stella gave a faint yelp of surprise.
    ‘Hey, all right in the back there?’
    ‘Yes, fine thanks – sorry, I was just startled out of a daydream. Where are we?’
    Dorothy waved expansively at the rolling farmland and woods on either side of the road.
    ‘God’s own land – the sweetest countryside in the whole of America. I was born on a farm here so I should know.’
    ‘You’re right, it’s lovely,’ agreed Stella. ‘I’ve been thinking how pretty and prosperous-looking it all is since we got out of Boston. Sort of like a
patchwork quilt, lots of different-sized fields and meadows and beautiful old trees everywhere. It reminds me of that film,
A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court
. I
hadn’t expected America to look so . . . well, quaint and old-fashioned. What kind of farm did you grow up on, Dorothy?’
    ‘You can take your pick around here – we’ve got all sorts in Massachusetts. Horse ranches, cattle farms, fruit orchards . . . but I was brought up on one of those.’ She
pointed to a green meadow where what appeared to be a red-painted barn on wheels was slowly scything down vast swathes of long grass.
    ‘My dad made hay; made hay while the sun shone, you could say, on glorious days just like this . . . I used to sit on the back of his combine harvester like that one over there and read my
books. He’d look round at me and say: “Little girl, don’t you get enough of those at school?” and I’d smile back at him. I knew he knew I’d never be a
farmer’s wife, not that he cared either way. He just wanted me to be happy. So God knows how I ended up with this long drink of charged water here.’ She poked her husband affectionately
in the ribs.
    ‘Hey, don’t dig the driver! Anyway, she asked where we are, not where you come from.’
    Jeb spoke over his shoulder to Stella. ‘We’re about three-quarters of the way there – it’s only a hundred miles or so from Boston to Northampton, and Smith. This is
Interstate 90, the Massachusetts Turnpike. See that bridge up ahead? That takes us over the Connecticut River. It used to be called the Great River – flows all the way down from Quebec up
north and if you jumped on a raft here, you’d eventually be spat out into Long Island Sound. One way to get to see New York, huh?’ He slowed down as they approached a toll station,
fumbling inside an ashtray.
    ‘Damn! Where’s my change?’
    Dorothy looked slightly hunted. ‘Er . . . I took it for cigarettes at the airport, Jeb. I left my purse at home again.’
    ‘Great. You
always
do this.’ He turned as they pulled up at the barrier and looked round sheepishly at Stella.
    ‘Sorry to ask for a cash loan, so soon after making your acquaintance, but I don’t suppose you have any quarters on you, do you, honey?’
    Stella nodded, enjoying his discomfiture. For some reason she felt an irresistible urge to tease him.
    ‘Yes, actually, I do. My mother found some in a drawer yesterday and gave them to me just before I left.’ She pursed her lips, making an elaborate show of considering the matter.
‘But you’ll have to sing for them first.’
    ‘What the – you’re
kidding
. What exactly do I have to sing?’
    ‘“Buddy, Can You Spare a Dime”, please. Any verse will do.’
    Jeb stared at her a moment and then turned gloomily to his wife. ‘Can you imagine what she’ll be like when she teams up with Sylvia? My life won’t be worth a damn. Can’t
we just drop her off at the YWCA?’
    The driver behind them honked his horn and Stella jingled the coins in one hand.
    ‘Do you want these quarters or don’t you?’
    Jeb cleared his throat.

5
    He had to drive north all