. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. John sat pensively in the back of his best friend's mother's minivan, piloted by his best friend Mark.
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