My sister got the house with roses around the porch. Well, fine! I’d broken out of that slammer long ago. Aunt Tilly got the family silver. Fair enough! It has been their mother’s.
But why did I only inherit that photo of a grubby garage? This had to be a clue, the beginning of a treasure trail.
I was in high spirits when I set off for Wensleydale. Roper’s garage was a dump. But, inside those locked doors, I knew there’d be a link. There was. A jumble of engine parts and a note: “Get your life together.”