But there was no sign of Bethany. ‘Wrong room darling!’ I heard her call – the echoing effect that I noticed from downstairs, now very much clea...er. ‘I’m in the room next door.’ she added – and sure enough when I looked out, there was a second, just partially opened doorway. Again I went in – into one of the largest bath-rooms I’d ever seen – much of one side of which was totally dominated by a simply massive, late Victorian – complete with the apparently nearly always obligatory, claw-feet –. He also imagined that whilst handling him, she was gently easing the skin back from his head as he hardened. Neither of their thoughts was spoken of course. Instead, Jonathan merely nodded and grunted, seemingly reluctantly in reply to Dorothy, in his teenage way. “Okay,” he added. “Now I need you to tackle these small trees today they need a prune. They are Betula pubscens or downy birch,” she explained to Jonathan turning to one side of the heap. “And how fitting for this recently post. More

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