By nine PM on that Friday evening, Ellie, her mother, father and Hand-Me-Down-Henry had said their goodbyes to Lucinda and her guests and were walking back to The Old Chapel, along the faded tarmac road that ran like an old worn ribbon through the village.
Her father had only consumed two glasses of Lucinda’s Bollinger Champagne and one glass of her homemade punch, as had her mother, but her parents had unanimously decided it better to leave the car on Lucinda’s forecourt and collect it in the morning.
The sun was still a half hour off setting and clung to the remains of the day as if reluctant to slide back below the westerly horizon and pass it"s watch to the moon. Orange light, defused by the trees, filtered through the dusky sky, giving any driver on his way through enough visibility
