thirty-two
As the weeks passed by, summer arrived with full, blistering force to the Southern pinnacle of the UK. Elizabeth had settled in well to her new role of kitchen assistant; she was working twenty-four hours each week, which suited her just fine. The rest of her time was spent walking and sunbathing on the glorious sandy beach. With the help of factor thirty, she was developing an impressive golden tan. Her hair, naturally lightened by the sun’s rays, was even longer, curling softly at her waist. To all outward appearances, there was no doubt that she was happy to be home, yet Elizabeth felt numb inside, like there was something missing from her life.
One morning, compelled by curiosity, she found herself searching out The Rebels on social media. Their Twitter, f*******: and i***
