“Where to, mate?”
“The Market Square in Little Bassington, please,” Adam replied.
The driver nodded in the rear view mirror and set off, the car committing itself to the same 90 degree turn as the one in front, where Adam caught a glimpse of the red-headed mother fussing over little Tommy. He was vaguely aware that they had been sitting further along his carriage during the journey from Euston, but his mind had mostly been elsewhere, his eyes locked onto the blur of Home Counties scenery that the train had cut a path through.
His plan, he decided, was to visit the house first. The thought of stepping across the threshold, knowing that Iris wouldn’t be there to greet him, caused his stomach to knot. The realisation came to him, suddenly and acutely: she’s gone. Just like his mother and f
