That Man Simon [antikvár]

CHAPTER ONE Fifty yards along the narrow back street, the way was blocked by a lorry. Jenny Shannon sighed and switched off the engine of her grandfather's shabby old car. It was Saturday morning, and the main streets of the county town were congested with cars and vans and noisy little scooters. She had already wasted twenty minutes, trying to find a space to park near the market place. Now she was delayed again. If she had not had to collect several bulky parcels, it would have been easier to come in by bus. The lorry driver signalled that he had nearly finished unloading, and Jenny nodded and smiled. It was no good getting impatient. Fortunately, she had started out early, so there would still be time to choose dress material after she had done her other errands. As the lorry moved off, another car came up behind her - a big silver-grey Jaguar, she noted, from a glance at its glossy bonnet in her rear view mirror. She turned the key in the ignition, and pressed her foot on the accelerator. But the motor failed to respond. She tried again. Nothing happened. By now, the lorry had gone. The driver in the car behind gave an imperious toot on his horn. 'I'm not asleep, dear man,' she muttered aloud. But still the little saloon would not start. And as she was right in the middle of the lane, the Jaguar could not pass even by edging on to the pathway.