KES PUSHED BACK OVERHANGING foliage and frowned at the undergrowth. He thought he could see a faint, narrow path but he wasn’t sure.
“Does that look like a track to you?” he asked Cherry, pointing at the thin snake of what looked like trodden vegetation.
“I thought you knew the way?” Cherry replied. “You said you’d been to visit her.”
“I have, but only once or twice, and that was longer than a year ago.”
“You haven’t been to see her in more than a year?” said Cherry. “She’s only seventeen. She’s much too young to be living out here all on her own. I thought you were looking after her.”
“I do my best,” said Kes. “I’m busy with work, and Isobel needs my help when I’m home. And, anyway, who said I was looking after her? Wilder’s nearly an adult, and you know how independent she is. She w
