Second chapter, in which Nathalie experiences a reunion with the past

“It’s up ahead,” Glenn said, glancing at the dashboard clock. “A little before eleven-thirty. That’ll be all right.”

For the most part they had driven along the motorway, which was lined on both sides by office buildings. Where once allotment gardens had been tended and cultivated, and small artisan businesses had made their homes, where factories full of workers had once stood, there was now little else but cool, angular blocks of steel and glass. They looked confusingly similar, and in purpose also did not differ much from each other — almost exclusively occupied by companies that had something to do with the internet. Companies whose employees were particularly progressive and environmentally conscious, driving e-bikes or electric cars.

The sight of these buildings made Nathalie melancholy every time. She was open to new technical developments, there was no question about that. And yet she was also attached to old, cherished things — like the trusted garage around the corner, where every vehicle was repaired in the smallest of spaces and without customers having to spend a fortune. The fact that she wasn’t greeted in such a workshop by a fashionably dressed receptionist with a cappuccino and a small plate of pastries, but by a man in dirty overalls with a red face, dishevelled hair and oil-smeared hands, didn’t bother her. In fact, she preferred it. Anything was better than these well-designed, artificial worlds; where a complaint was received with a fake smile, but then filed away without any response.

It wasn’t until they had only a good fifty miles to go to their destination that the scenery to the left and right of the road noticeably changed. They had switched to a well-built country road. To either side stretched the familiar and beloved landscape of rolling green hills and woods. Here and there, flocks of sheep grazed in the vast meadows, recognisable at the great distance only as a greyish-white mass.

Earlsraven, in the tiny historic county of Bransmere, was, coming from the north, something like the antechamber of Cornwall. Everything seemed a little more primitive, and not as polished as the beauty spots of Cornwall. Nathalie quite liked that.

The special charm of its hilly landscape for Nathalie was that you always had the feeling of peace and seclusion, even though the next village was just in the next valley. If you went by car, or even by bike, you could reach a neighbouring village within a few minutes. Even on foot, it didn’t take very long to reach the next town if you were used to walking. You were never really in the middle of nowhere, but you could feel that way if you wanted to.

*

They drove past the battered town sign of Earlsraven.

“How many people live here?” asked Glenn.

“How wouldI know.”

Glenn laughed. “I didn’t expect that answer from a woman whose speciality is statistics.”

She raised an eyebrow and let out the hint of a smile. “And whatwould you expect?”

“Well, you know, a listing of how many people live here, how long they live on average, what the per capita income is, and so on.”

Nathalie laughed. “I try to leave that in the office.”

“Not quite,” Glenn replied.

“What do you mean?” She had been sure that she didn’t talk much about her work at home.

Glenn smiled mischievously at her. “Well, there are days when hardly a sentence goes by that you don’t start with ‘statistically …’.” He smiled at her. “You put your heart and soul into your job.”

“Well, that’s true,” she said, deciding to be careful to avoid that phrase in the future.

She pointed ahead. “Where the road bends to the right, you need to make a sharp left.”

They followed the road until Glenn saw a small signpost pointing to the “Village Centre”.

“Turn here,” said Nathalie.

He slowed down, he had spotted a parking bay just beyond the turnoff with the sign “Parking for guests of the Black Feather only”.

“But there’s—” he began, turning off the blinker again.

“Yes, I know, but you have to turn here,” Nathalie interrupted emphatically. “I know my way around here!”

Irritated, Glenn h