The valley below them was bathed in a pale blue-grey light that promised the approach of evening. They had come down through the Spey Valley to look for Crested Tit, a bird Domenic had long coveted. Though he wouldn’t categorically rule out any bird appearing in north Norfolk, he was fairly sure ...
From behind, she draped her arms over his shoulders. An image of a barren, sun-baked landscape flickered on the screen. Oh, Dom, she thought, how I wish you wouldn’t wish. Surely he could see it was too late to start all over again, too late to start chasing rainbows, stom...