‘He’ll come around. He probably just needs his own space back for a while.’
‘Does that mean I’ll have to sleep on the sofa with you?’
‘Well, Aunt Liv has found a place we could stay for a little while.’
‘We’re moving?’
‘More like a holiday,’ I said, not even knowing if this was true or not.
‘If we go on holiday, when we come back, Jake might like me again.’
‘I’m sure he will. Aunt Liv’s going to take us to see the holiday place today so we can decide if we like it. But Bertie?’
‘Hmm?’
‘If you don’t like it, we won’t go there. OK?’
‘OK.’
I pulled Bertie closer to me, breathing him in, knowing whatever happened, I’d do everything in my power to give him the life he deserved. Except for joining a cult. That was a firm no, and if I got even a whiff of that while visiting this place, I’d be out of there before they had time to light a stick of incense.
Chapter Eleven
Cass was right that the community was only an hour away. At least it would have been, if we hadn’t got terribly lost.
‘We’ve been past this pub already,’ said Bertie, his nose pressed to the window.
‘We’ve passed it more than once,’ I said.
Cass reached across and slapped my knee. ‘I think you’ll find it’s your job to navigate, not mine.’
‘True,’ I said, ‘but these directions are hopeless.’
‘Read them out to me again.’
‘Go past the pub, then turn left down a narrow track.’
‘But there is no track,’ said Cass, bashing the steering wheel with her fist.
‘There is,’ said Bertie. ‘I just saw it.’
‘Where?’ said Cass, turning her head to Bertie.
‘Cass, look out.’
Cass turned her eyes back to the road just in time to avoid hitting a flock of sheep being moved from one field to another.
‘It’s back there,’ said Bertie. ‘Past the pub, just like the directions said.’
Cass reversed the car at a snail’s pace, freaked out after her near-miss.
‘There,’ said Bertie, pointing out of the window to a tiny opening between the pub and its neighbouring house.
‘Young eyes,’ I said, earning myself another slap from Cass.
It took Cass three attempts to turn the car into the opening. Hedges enclosed us, the middle of the track sporting a grass mohican. Cass flinched at every turn, paranoid we’d meet another vehicle on a track barely big enough for one car. If the state of the track was anything to go by, there wouldn’t be much other traffic around.
Cass’s shoulders softened as we finally reached a wooden gate, a sign announcing we had reached Lowen Farm. Beside the gate stood a postbox and a structure resembling a doll’s house containing fresh eggs.
