CHAPTER THIRTY
When Bob circled back to the farmhouse and repeated his offer of a cuppa, Georgie’s feet were numb and her hands frozen stiff, even though they’d been stuffed deep inside her leather jacket – the replacement to her old favourite ruined last spring.
‘Definitely, thanks.’
It gave her the chance to thaw, recharge, and most crucially, with luck, to connect with Hilda. She didn’t want to leave the Gettys without discovering the something Hilda knew that she wished she didn’t.
They walked straight into the kitchen, finding Hilda at a computer on the table, her back to an old wood stove. She mumbled hello, giving Georgie a furtive glance, silently begging.
She caught the message and acted as if they were strangers. Which they were, excluding the phone exchanges.
Bob made drin
