‘He looks so sad,’ Flora said. ‘Not as sad as I’d have looked if I’d lost him,’ Tom said, picking him up and dusting him down with loving hands. ‘Come on, Flo. Let’s see if we can catch up with Molly.’ But they couldn’t. Shortly after finding themselves back at the farm track in which they’d turned round in the first place, there was a three-way junction, and the yellow Volkswagen Beetle was long gone. With a weary sigh, Tom pulled over again and got his road atlas out. He’d never done so much map reading in his life as in the last few days and his eyes felt sore from poring over the pages. Of course, he knew Molly had been continually heading south, but did that mean she was now heading to Cornwall, Devon, Dorset or Kent or anywhere in between? He’d have to put out another appeal for help, but what did he do in the meantime? Take a chance and hit the M5 or rest up in the pleasant surroundings of the Cotswolds?
