The Retreat
Gemma Amor
Jennifer knew something was wrong within ten minutes of leaving The Retreat.
‘It feels a bit … off out here, doesn’t it?’ She mused, staring out of the passenger side window of her friend’s beaten up Nissan Micra and trying to get a handle on what, exactly, it was that she found so disconcerting.
‘It’s certainly very quiet,’ Red replied, struggling to change gear. The gear stick jammed mid-shift, and a hideous grinding, groaning noise filled the car. ‘f**k,’ she spat, yanking on the stick and forcing it to behave. ‘It’s only been three weeks, and I’ve already forgotten how to drive.’
Jennifer grunted. ‘It’s the car’s way of saying it doesn’t want to go home,’ she said, dragging her eyes away from the bleak winter skyline of the Norfolk broads. There was a lot of
