By six o’clock that same morning, Sarah and Wendy had left the caravan and were on their way to the town centre. Neither one had hardly slept. The need to escape the confines of their claustrophobic home seemed to take priority and overrode everything else.
Carlos had tipped his cap again when they left and had maintained his stoic position by the kitchen window; legs astride and hands clasped behind his back as he scanned the area for intruders. He looked exhausted, which only made Wendy ponder how alert and on the ball he would be if the shooter put in another appearance.
Breaking into her thoughts, Sarah said: "I’m not sure we’ll find anywhere open at this ungodly hour of the morning, but I needed to get out."
"There's bound to be a bakery or something open somewhere. Let’s keep walk
