The rabbits were still on the lawn as Grant and Sara wheeled their bikes back to the road. They cycled in to Port Ellen without seeing a single car on the four mile ride. They stopped outside the Port Ellen Hotel, opposite the quay where they had landed the day before. They propped their bikes up against the wall of the whitewashed building and went inside. It was lunchtime, but there were only four people in the bar – all men. Sara took a seat at the table in the corner while Grant went to the bar.
“Hi,” said Grant when the burly landlord came over.
“Good day, what can I get you?” he said looking past Grant and across to Sara.
“A pint of bitter and an orange juice,” he said,” and can I have a look at the menu, if you have one?”
The landlord turned away and reached for a black plastic
