A short time later, Emily pulled into the hidden track bracketed by hedgerows, and up to the circular drive fronting Penmead. They all got out; Emily went around and flipped open the trunk of the Vauxhall.
As if hearing a signal, Tinker, the loopy Irish setter, came tearing around the corner. Pru screamed as Tinker cornered her by the garden gate. It had slipped Emily’s mind that Tinker was probably on the loose, seeking out any kind of mischief that, more often than not, included knocking over urns and gardening tools, ripping down hanging washing on the line, chasing scurrying critters and, if given the opportunity, snaring a small, childlike person. His feathered red forelegs rested on Pru’s chest while he slavered and wagged his tail in sheer joy.
Silas muttered something unintelligi
