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Back Guilt at the Garage Save as PDF
Chapters (31)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Simon Brett
  3. GUILT AT THE GARAGE
  4. Dedication
  5. ONE
  6. TWO
  7. THREE
  8. FOUR
  9. FIVE
  10. SIX
  11. SEVEN
  12. EIGHT
  13. NINE
  14. TEN
  15. ELEVEN
  16. TWELVE
  17. THIRTEEN
  18. FOURTEEN
  19. FIFTEEN
  20. SIXTEEN
  21. SEVENTEEN
  22. EIGHTEEN
  23. NINETEEN
  24. TWENTY
  25. TWENTY-ONE
  26. TWENTY-TWO
  27. TWENTY-THREE
  28. TWENTY-FOUR
  29. TWENTY-FIVE
  30. TWENTY-SIX
  31. TWENTY-SEVEN

Her mother went on the offensive again. ‘And how do you reckon your Billy will manage, converting Shefford’s to all-electric? He’s never been good at change, has he?’

‘He’ll cope,’ said Shannon. ‘Anyway, the future at the garage is all rather in the air at the moment.’

‘Oh yes,’ said Rhona. ‘Since Billy’s dad married the Chink, you mean?’

As she left Waggoners, Jude could not help feeling a surge of sympathy for Billy Shefford, caught in a pincer movement between a wife who disapproved of the work he did and a mother-in-law who disapproved of him full stop.

No wonder he spent a certain amount of time sounding off in the Crown and Anchor.

FOUR

Carole’s skills at blanking things out were finite. However determinedly she tried not to think about the attack on her Renault, nagging anxieties kept on invading her mind. It wasn’t the smashed glass that caused them – she had come to terms with that – it was the note through the kitchen door, the note that changed a random act of violence into targeted aggression. The temptation to talk about it, to tell Jude what had happened, was strong. Except, of course, that would probably have meant owning up to her inefficiency over the car insurance. Not to mention her stupidity in burning the vital evidence. No, she’d have to bottle it up. And Carole Seddon was very practised in bottling things up.

She was also very practised in being slow to change her habits. Everything new she approached with suspicion. For many years, she had resisted computer technology. It was the same with mobile phones and, currently, using the camera function.

Then again, for a long time, when in Jude’s company, the two of them had drunk Chilean Chardonnay. And when they came to the mutual conclusion that Sauvignon Blanc was much nicer, it still felt wrong to Carole. Although she wondered how they had apparently enjoyed the Chardonnay for so long, she did feel a pang almost of betrayal at a bar when ordering Sauvignon Blanc.

It was the same with coffee. Carole’s instinctive Englishness and aversion to change had made her very suspicious of the invasion by coffees with foreign names. Resolutely resisting the siren calls of mochas, lattes and macchiatos, when offered a choice she would reply stuffily, ‘Just ordinary black coffee, please.’ And when Polly’s Cake Shop on the parade closed, Carole’s voice was strong in condemning the prospect of its being replaced by a Starbucks. The very idea was appalling. This was Fethering, after all. Fethering would never give way to the relentless march of the multinationals.