XI“What’s going on?” Bethan wandered into the kitchen, padding over the rich, red flagstones in relishing the feeling of cold on her bare feet.
Sal was busy packing a large rucksack whilst shoo-ing Meow away. The latter was trying to clamber into the rucksack which already contained a Thermos flask and what looked like a couple of packs of foil-wrapped sandwiches.
Billy ambled in from the garden. “Morning, Bethan!”
“Hey Billy, how’s the head?”
“I’m doing alright.”
“We’re going gleaning.” Sal finally lost the battle of the rucksack and left Meow to savour his victory whilst she hunted the cupboards for some suntan lotion.
Bethan, who wasn’t really awake, sat at the kitchen table, as Meow lurked in the bag, every now and then popping his head up and batting the air with his paw.
“Glea
