NineteenThe rain had ceased when Rick and Marlies exited the small terminal at Newquay Airport. The balmy temperatures they had left behind in Hamburg were replaced by an icy breeze, blowing in from the Atlantic Ocean. They walked to a car lot, their luggage trundling behind them. “This is the one,” Rick said as they stopped in front of a white saloon. He pressed the key fob, pleased when the lights on the car blinked to attention. A minute later, they were ensconced in a plush interior, the growing wind thankfully shut off.
“Have you got the address?” Marlies said as she struggled out of her tan coat.
“It's on my phone,” Rick replied as he selected the cars built-in navigation. “There we go,” he said seconds later. “It should only take an hour to get there. Let's hope the English weathe
