She walked stiffly, holding her head high, her shoulders unnaturally straight. He stood aside to let her climb on to the bus, blocking the way to the other passengers so that she need not hurry, then he followed her to where she settled in a seat next to the window, stood between her and their fellow travellers while he heaved the bags on to the rack, then inserted his bulk into the seat beside her. The torrential rain streaming down the window made it impossible for anyone looking in to see Poppy; within the bus he shielded her with his body. Her bruised face, dishevelled hair, the way she sat ravelled into herself reminded him of the rabbits dying of myxomatosis he had seen as a child, too stupefied, too blind to get out of the rain. Then he had joined his father in awful retching sorties to shoot or club the miserable animals, putting them out of their misery. Sitting with Poppy in the bus Willy experienced the rage of pity and fury he had had as a child magnified tenfold. It was clear Poppy had not been in a car accident.
What do You think about Vacillations Of Poppy Carew?
