A WINTER weekend
The cottage looked everything Val had hoped it would be for Bob’s 60th birthday celebration. At the end of a delightful country lane that wound down towards the Camel Estuary, it sat alone with pretty curtains at the windows, surrounded by a country garden. A sizeable log pile was covered up and stacked by the blue front door.
Running up to their departure, she had checked the weather forecast every day. This was going to be a winner of a weekend.
As they pulled up outside, the first drops of rain began to fall. Not quite to plan, but never mind. A man in red trousers and a worn Barbour came to the white wicket gate.
Behind him, Val glimpsed a garden bench that faced the setting sun, the ideal place for a sundowner.
The man walked over and knocked on the window, so she lowered it.
‘Mrs Rowlands?’ He said, like a policeman.
‘Yes.’ She had a feeling she
