CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Trev didn’t stop until he reached the back fence behind the police station. His hands were curled into fists and he somehow resisted the urge to hit the timber palings. As it was they were falling down, some hanging by a nail and others bending away from the top. Another thing to fix. He walked alongside the fence, counting the damaged palings until the thunder in his ears subsided. By then he’d reached the corner of what was a large and unkempt yard. Not dissimilar to his station in River’s End when he’d arrived there.
There was adequate space for a vegetable garden and an idea formed. Something for the community. Unlike River’s End station, which also had his accommodation on the same land, this was a standalone station. With some nurturing he might turn this into a
