“I think we should have taken the Captain’s advice,” said Jane as they continued down the narrow lane. “He seemed adamant about avoiding the farm.”
“What makes you think we could trust him?” asked Bill. “For all we know, he could have been directing us to an alligator infested swamp.”
“There aren’t any alligators in England,” pointed out Edwin.
“Crocodiles then,” said Bill.
Edwin shook his head. “There aren’t any crocodiles either. Do you know what the largest native British reptile is?”
“You?” suggested Bryony.
“It’s the Grass Snake,” said Edwin.
“Snake in the grass.” Bryony nodded. “That’s still you.”
“Now children,” sighed Jane, giving Bryony one of her schoolteacher looks. “Please don’t argue. We still have a long walk ahead of us.”
“It would have been longer if we’d taken the Captain’s advice,” grumbled Bill. Then his face brightened as he pointed down the lane. “Hey look, we’ve reached the farm.”
A crooked gate spanned the lane ahead. The rusty metal frame was topped with barbed wire, and a sign scrawled with thick red letters that read:
Wychetts and the Farm of Fear Page 5