36
Some hours later, Curtis pulled the car into a verge, angrily opened the route map and studied it with concentrated intensity.
“You’re lost.”
Curtis shot Patrick a wild glance. “No. I just took a wrong turning.”
“How can anyone get lost in Shropshire?”
“I’m not lost!” He tossed it into the back seat in disgust. “There must be a sign somewhere.”
“Why don’t you just turn around and go back the way we came.”
“What?” He sighed deeply. “All right, I guess you’re probably right. Once we’re back on the main road, we can find a sign.”
He wrestled with the wheel, but the tyres slipped on the narrow, rutted track, engine screaming, gears grating. Slamming the car into reverse, Curtis swore, turned the wheel first one way, then the other as Patrick held on, eyes closed. “It’s almost as if
