Free The Vintage Ice Cream Van Road Trip (Cherry Pie Island - Book 2) by Jenny Oliver Page B

taking him?’ she asked.
    The policewoman shook her head and gave Holly a little smile. ‘They are a little hot,’ she said, pointing to her head, ‘We take them to cool off.’
    ‘Are you arresting him?’ Holly tried to stand up but lost her balance, and the woman tried to encourage her to stay sitting.
    ‘
Mais non
, just a little time to sit. Oui?’ she said.
    Holly nodded, quite pleased it was completely out of her hands. ‘Oui.’
    ‘Holly?’ Wilf shouted.
    ‘Yeah?’ she shouted back.
    ‘Are you OK?’
    ‘Yeah,’ she said, still mad with him for his driving, for his stupidness.
    ‘Is the baby OK?’
    ‘Yeah the baby’s OK,’ she shouted back, softening slightly when she saw him leaning out the car, his cuffed hands resting on the wound-down window.
    The siren started.
    ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’
    ‘Yes!’ she shouted. Shaking her head at the policewoman who rolled her lips into a little smile.
    ‘Are you going to come to the station?’ he shouted over the siren, but the car pulled away before she could reply.
    ‘This van, it is very exciting,
n’est pas
?’ the policewoman said.
    ‘
C’est pour la glace
,’ Holly replied.
    The policewoman laughed, ‘
Mais oui. Camionette des glaces
,’ she said and Holly repeated it as she strolled over to look at the little stickers of ice creams on the window and look up at the forget-me-not patterned ceiling of the van. ‘
C'est tres tres jolie
, very pretty,’ she said, then asked, ‘We go and get your husband?’
    ‘Oui,’ Holly said. ‘But, just for the record, he’s most definitely not my husband.’

Chapter Thirteen
    They kept Wilf in the cell for four hours. When Holly walked into the reception area, she could just see him out the back, sitting on a metal bench, slouched against the wall, his bare feet crossed in front of him. The white van driver was sitting on the bench opposite, his elbows on his knees, his head bent forward. It was boiling in the police station. Sticky and humid, with flies buzzing near electric zappers.
    She saw Wilf look up as she came in, trying to catch her eye through the bars, but she didn’t look at him, instead she waited for the policewoman to come back and tell her how long she thought they’d be keeping him in and then left. She walked across the road in the scorching heat towards an Intermarche supermarket.
    Ambling up and down the aisles looking at pots of duck confit, French cereal packets, big displays of fresh fish and shiny fresh vegetables, she tried to imagine what Enid would have done in her situation.
    She knew she’d have been furious with Wilf. She’d have strung him up for putting added stress on Holly and the baby and she’d be delighted that he’d been thrown in jail, but she’d think that punishment enough. She’d look at the reason behind it all. The fear. She’d make Holly acknowledge that she was scared too and had had longer to get used to it. She would then probably tell Holly that it was time for her to accept it as well. To accept the baby and enjoy it. She’d tell her to turn and face it, head on.
    Holly walked away from the vegetable section and found herself searching out the baby aisle. Soon she was standing, perplexed, in front of rows of bottles, bowls, Sophie the Giraffe chew toys, rattles, Calpol, nappies, wipes… It was endless and all a foray into the unknown. On the peg closest to her was a cream comforter blanket with the head of an elephant. It looked so soft and fluffy that her fingers just reached forward to touch it on instinct.
    Holding it in her hands she looked down at her tummy and said, ‘Do you want one of these? I don’t know if you’ll want one of these but it’s pretty soft. I think I’d have liked one of these.’
    At the till a middle-aged woman scanned the comforter and glanced at Holly, looking at her surreptitiously to see if it was for her own baby. She raised her brows at her with an expectant smile and Holly did a tiny nod and smiled