Short Story by Duncan McLean
Twatt’s looked closed as we turned in off the Lochside road, and started down the rough track.
There’s no lights on, said Mr MacAndrew.
No cars outside, said Mrs MacAndrew.
Just wait, I said. There never are lights.
Never cars either.
So how do the staff get here, out in the middle of forgottenhood? said Mr MacAndrew.
They walk, said Catherine…