Rosie said with a groan. “If I’d known you’d complain so much, I’d have told you to stop at home,” retorted Norma. “Two-and-six to get to Blackpool and back—if that isn’t a bargain I don’t know what is.” “If I’d known this charabanc would be so uncomfortable I’d never have agreed.” “Then next time one of the boys at work offers me cheap tickets I’ll remember not to ask.” “Enough with your bickering,” Charlotte intervened. “We’ll be there soon enough, and thanks to Norma we’ll each have a few extra shillings in our pockets. So let’s not throttle one another before we get there.” They’d spent the past two and a half hours crammed into the open-topped charabanc, with at least another hour to go before they reached Blackpool. It resembled nothing so much as a gigantic coffin bolted atop the deck of a lorry, and was roughly as comfortable as one might expect of such a jury-rigged vehicle.
