He occasionally stopped in a layby, flicked on his hand torch and studied the road map that would take him nearer and nearer. Then it was the roar of the Spitfire's engine, the flare of the headlights and he was off again, pushing the car faster and faster.
The names on his route passed him by… Yeovil… then Exeter… Lauceston… Bodmin…
Then across the moors… Truro… Penryn… Falmouth… until the names of the villages and the road signs to his destination became more infrequent.
Finally, the road to Maenporth opened up and he was aware of the sea to his left as it crashed against the cliff face and the shoreline. He pulled the car over into a layby for one last check of his map and five minutes later, he found the gates to the property he was looking for. They were of substantial ornate ironw
