Treść książki

Przejdź do opcji czytnikaPrzejdź do nawigacjiPrzejdź do informacjiPrzejdź do stopki
The1970s
Acrossthecabbagefield
Wemeantittobeashort“getawayfromitall”triptoMasurianLake
District.Therewerethreeofusinthecar,aso-calledsmallFiat,
or“Maluch”,andMaryla’smongreldog,Lobo.Itwaswellafter2p.m.
becauseittookuslongerthanusualtoleaveWarsaw,andwewere
drivingalongawindingroad,toalovelyspotbyalake
werememberedfromoursummersailingadventures.
Les,whotookturntodrive,waswhistlingsometunesof“Jolka,
Jolka,”atrendysongeveryoneknew,Iwassittinghalf-asleepinthe
rearseatofthistinycarnexttotherestlessdog,andMarylaseemed
tobecountingtalltreesontherightoftheroad.Iwasjustbeginning
tofloatoffintoadreamwhenIheardahigh-pitchedscream:“Stop!!!
Stopimmediately!!!”
LesbrakedwithascreechoftiresandlookedatMarylawith
amazement,hisfacepale.
“Why?Whyonearthdidyouwantmetostop?”heuttered.
“Notyou!Him!!!”shepointedatLobobusywithapillowtrying
tomakelovewithit.Shegrabbedthesinneranddraggedhimontoher
lap.
“Wecandriveonnow,”shesaidinasweetvoice,pressingthedog
hard,sohecouldnotescapehergrip.“Hewillcalmdownsoon.”