Chapter 4: Horlicks—PeterThe shaking like a leaf wasn’t entirely down to the cold, Peter thought as he lay in the blissful, blissful hot water. It was also shock and hunger and fear—stupid weakness.
The last place he’d holed up the farmer’s sons had driven him off with their fists. He could have fought back, but he didn’t…what was the point? There’d been enough of fighting. He’d thought that after a week or two here in the warmth of the stoke-hole, getting his strength back from whatever bug had laid him low, maybe he’d go back up onto the hills to his old bivvy for the summer.
Lying in the hot bath with the door firmly locked, listening to the faint sounds of the BBC from the radio in the kitchen, he tried to get himself under control. It had been a rough few weeks. He’d not spoken to a
