After four hours" sleep and a change of clothes, Luke left Radford’s in mid-afternoon and drove north up the motorway for ninety minutes. He turned off, passing through a succession of yuppified villages, until he located the minor road that led to the ancient green lane he remembered from the happy days of his childhood.
His dadu had told him that the lane was a surviving fragment of a complex of drove roads, when Galloway horses and cattle had been brought south to sell to the English. Luke hung on his words, imagining the whole of England crisscrossed by these ancient ways, where drover and gypsy were free and at peace, one with the land.
They lived in a workaday Open-lot back then, trading in horses and lurchers. Ambrose occasionally got him to climb an oak tree or an elm to take a f
