ABANDONED

Bryony needed the ‘isolated spot’ described in the brochure like nothing else before in her life, but she hadn’t imagined somewhere this isolated.

Her satnav had taken her down narrow Devon lanes, overshadowed by trees, winding between drystone walls, past stone farmhouses, before announcing she had arrived at her destination. A field. Miles from anywhere. But in the field was a smoky-pink painted shepherd’s hut, with a paved path between the small gritted car park and the steps to its stable door. Beyond was woodland, lit by slanting sunlight.

She parked, hauled her case to the hut, extracted the key from the key safe and, with an unsteady hand, inserted it.

Why had she thought getting away on her own to consider her future was a