CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The mystery of George’s friend in the tunnel didn’t stop with his fleeing from the vast magnitude of the opening that morning.
Amid the pangs of the starving season, Freya remembered other traditions: the devotion to family, to friends, good food and good company. Afraid for her son and his detachment from the village she spent as much time as she could with him. They watched films together; festive and fantastic and ringing with Christmas spirit. They took Eaton for long walks, touring Lynnwood’s cobbled streets, illuminated with strings of tasteful lights. And she cooked him hearty meals, the likes of which every growing boy needed; dripping meats, crisp, golden skins, thick gravies and sweet sauces, all washed down with carbonated drinks, which sparkled sharp and refre
