The scones were delicious. My enjoyment was obvious and she pressed more on me.I looked at the clock. It was half past ten. Even if I left now I might not reach Exeter in time for the last train to London. I said so.“You won’t need a train,” his wife said. “That car may be old but it’ll get you all the way there and back again, slowly mind, but steadily.”“But it’ll need petrol and there aren’t any petrol stations open at night.”“There’s an all-night one near Honiton,” he said, “but you’ll need a fill before then. Got another sixpence?”I looked in my pocket. There was a sixpence among the pennies and halfpennies. I held it out. He took it.“I’ll fill the petrol tank and check the oil. I’ll put some more petrol in the can in the boot just in case you run out. You shouldn’t if you drive carefully. A tankful should get you all the way home.”“But that’s worth more than sixpence…” I protested.“Maybe it is, but it’s nearly Christmas and you should be with your family, Geoff.”“I don’t know. It was them worrying about me that caused them to crash – and that was all your bloody fault."By now her face was an angry red, her eyes were blazing with fury, and she was gradually losing control of herself. I suppose I should have stopped it there and just left, but I didn't."Don't talk such bollocks. It wasn't my fault, it was an..." before I could finish the sentence Miriam lost it and screamed at me. "You're blaming me? It was your fault–it wasn't my fault – I'm not to blame, I'm not to blame!"Her eyes were wild and staring, like a crazed person, and spittle sprayed from her mouth. She became quite hysterical and started beating her fists on my chest; I'd never seen Miriam in such a state. I had always thought her flashes of temper were an aberration to her normal, calm placid self – but this was scary. I concluded she was having a fit, so I slapped her face.The transformation was instant. She stepped back from me, dropping her hands to her side. Her eyes lost their mad look.
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