She wanted to think. ‘I never met a rat what wandered about the place with a lantern, I didn’t,’ grumbled the old lodgekeeper aggrievedly. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. Socks and shoes were harder to find, and she ended up wearing men’s athletic tube socks and a pair of dust caked flip-flops that had sat forlornly in Locker 49 since 1978. He leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers.
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