WfW 14.10 - On the way to Unicorn Island.

In October Messymimi at Messymimi's Meanderings is supplying the Words for Wednesday. Today she has exceeded our (at least my) expectations with these sets:

implicit
grass
spring
accident
ankle
start
     and/or the following somewhat archaic words
God’s acre - a churchyard
Larcener - thief
Weed - garment or outfit worn during mourning

I don't know quite where in the Unicorn Farm timeline this is going to fit in. There's almost no magic in it, as it recounts a typical trip from Susan's home to Unicorn Island.
I used all the ordinary words, the archaic ones, which I (and Susan) love, will have to wait until Susan has arrived at the Farm, as Dad in particular disapproves of  fancy words.

  Spring was in the air as Susan returned to Unicorn Island. She had rolled down the windows in daddy's car and sat with the head into the wind. It was almost dark, at it almost always was when they arrived at the island. Mom worked in a bank, and as it closed at 3 pm she was almost always free to leave at 4 pm, after balancing her till. Dad was an electrician, and more or less his own master, so he had been at home at half past three. But Mum did not show up. Actually she did not arrive until half past five, almost running, and out of breath.
  "Some money was missing all the time," she said as soon as she had closed the door. "One of the ladies behind the counter had an accident, she fell down the stairs and broke her ankle. And of course the money and so on from her till did not balance. And not by a small amount either. Not until we found the  wad of money she had held in her hands while slipping on the stairs did we get anywhere. And after those were counted, we still missed a 50 kroner note. We guessed it had flown off to somewhere and in the end we each paid a fiver to get home, and here I am. Give me half an hour and a cup of coffee, then we'll be off."
   "We can stop somewhere on the road and pick up something to eat," Dad said. " We won't make it there until too late for dinner anyway."
  "Oh, fine with me," Mum said, "I'll call Dina and tell her of our delay."

  They had stopped at an hot dog stand at the market square in a sleepy provincial town a bit more than two thirds of the way there. Susan had ordered Croque Monsieur with cocoa milk, and Linda had a coke and a cowboy toast, essentially the same as  Croque Monsieur, but with a hamburger instead of slices of ham. They each had two, while Mum and Dad ate big hot-dogs with lots of mustard and onions. Dad and Mum also had a beer each as well. The smell of mustard and onions in the car made Susan and Linda want to open their windows, But their parents complained of the draught, and in the end - after some fighting, scuffing and scolding - they took turns having their windows open for five minutes. And Susan was lucky. As they crossed the bridge to the island, her five minutes period was just about to start.
  Ergo she was able to sit with her head into the wind, sniffing the new mown grass from the many summer houses being opened for Easter holidays, the salt spray from the sea, and an occasional whiff of coffee drifting in.
  As they turned into the dirt road leading to the summer house, Dad stopped the car. A rabbit was caught in the headlights. It sat in the middle of the road, immobile, only its nose twitching. When they had all admired the little creature, Dad turned off the lights, and Susan could feel the rabbit's relief at being released as it jumped off in the dark. Then Dad ignited the car and drove the small distance to the summerhouse.
 Over coffee and soft drinks Mum recounted the story of the cashier's accident. Mum never said so in plain words, but it was implicit from her telling, that she was the one to foster the idea of looking for the missing money in the stairwell.

... to be continued