When it rained these days, it felt like it would never stop. Constantly out in it, the grey was wearing on them. The atrocious weather had returned, as if whatever was responsible for controlling the elements was goading them. There were dark storm clouds overhead, alternating with random clear patches. For the last hour it had either been black as night or bright as summer, no in-between. It made driving along the debris-strewn motorway even harder; after every sudden downpour, the sun would appear temporarily, and the glare was unbearable. ‘Wish it would make up its damned mind,’ Ruth grumbled.
‘This is how it is now,’ David said, semi-serious. ‘Nothing’s straightforward anymore. My old dad would say it’s character building.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘Want me to drive for a bit?’
‘No, I’m good
