For the first part of his journey, at least the wind would be behind him, pushing him along. already knew he didn’t have reception on his mobile in the Mistwell countryside so he wouldn’t be able to call the agency to let the receptionist know he might be late. On the morning of, I’ll text you to confirm.” Two days prior, when he’d called the agency, the receptionist had simply told him, “Don’t worry. He didn’t even know if Wren was male or female. trusted that Wren Underhill, the agent would wait for him if he should take longer than anticipated.

He had no choice but to brave the brrrr and bluster of the elements on the one-hour trek to his appointment. If he’d known the walk ahead was going to be so strenuous, he wouldn’t have left his car in town. But then again, it wasn’t the snow’s fault, was it? It was the doing of the English wind which battered all things in its wake. Mind you, he hadn’t been expecting the snow to fall with such ferocity and likely hold him up. decided, before the wind would nab those last reluctant leaves, forcing them to migrate into the unknown.Ī moment earlier, as he’d exited the building, J.C. The snow was starting now, twisting through the gorse and dusting leaves still clinging to their boughs for fear of where the wind would take them next. Clutching his case with his left hand and holding onto his hat with his right, J.C.

Masterpiece theatre the undisturbed