26Breakfast time he sat alone at his table. The silent waitress, older than the hills, dumped the plate in front of him and shuffled off. He stared at the offering – two scrawny pieces of burnt bacon, a runny egg and a heap of slimy mushrooms. He pushed the plate away and spread hard butter on cold toast. Sitting back, he gazed out of the restaurant window towards the open grassland beyond. It was raining, in great slanting sheets, darkening his mood still further. He took a gulp of coffee, threw his half-eaten toast onto the plate and went out.
“Are you old enough to be driving that car?”
He turned towards the sound of the voice. A strange little man, glasses pushed back onto a shiny dome, stood behind the reception desk, huddled over a large ledger. Jed frowned, not sure if the man was
