The Old Military Road was fairly straight. A high hedgerow to the left blocked their view, but to the right were ploughed fields giving way to peat moorland.
‘It’s been a while since I walked along this road,’ Malcolm said. ‘Usually, I’m in my car and I forget how beautiful it is out here.’
‘Crataegus monogyna,’ responded Audrey, indicating the hedgerow.
Malcolm laughed. ‘Common hawthorn. Did you study Latin?’
‘I know the Latin name for a few plants, but at my ballet school French was more important. It’s the language of dance.’
Twenty minutes later, they passed a rusting triangular sign warning motorists that a school was up ahead. A few minutes’ further walking and a side road opened up to the right with a sign on the far corner announcing in weathered letters: Hawksmead College.
T
