Pippa parked at the timber bungalow that stood about fifty metres behind the main house. The building nestled into the base of a steep bank that was swathed with flowering wonga wonga vines. However, Pippa couldn’t admire the pretty purple blossoms, teetering as she was on the brink of emotional and mental overload. She crossed her arms on the steering wheel, closed her eyes and let her head sink down.
Pippa’s thoughts swam in a thick soup of confusion. Duke pawed at her knee and whined with concern. She shook her head to clear it and sat up. ‘You’re right,’ she murmured. ‘Let’s go inside.’
The modest building consisted of four bunk rooms off a central hallway, a bathroom with a washing machine, and a small kitchen diner. Where was the back door? She found it at the end of the hallway, c
