He pulled into a lay-by and reached over for the map. This was the tird time he'd had to pull over to figure out exactly where he was, and where he'd taken a wrong turn. The first part of the journey had been simple enough, he'd made his way out of the city on the main A road, joined the motorway briefly and then onto the narrow B road which led him through the town of Clark. It had all seemed so simple on the map - two left turns, a right heading up the hill and it should have been just passed the church. Except, he had passed that church three times now and still hadn't found the turning. He checked the sketched map that Frazzle had given him, he should be there by now. But, once again, he'd found himself heading toward the bridge from the wrong side of the river. Why couldn't he find it? he thought.
His stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten recently, and the clock on the dash told him it was now ten minutes to two. Definately lunch time.
He looked out of the car window. A small row of houses, on the opposite side of the road, was nestled btween high hedges as if to keep out unwelcomed visitors. He was begining to think he was anwelcomed visitor. He hadn't told her he was coming and he remembered Daisys' warning that only people with an invitation could ever find the place. It had seemed such a stupid claim that he just had to take up the challenge of proving her wrong.
He looked beyond the houses, passed the river bend and saw what he needed - a pub! They were bound to serve food, and maybe someone more local would be able to point him in the right direction. He put the car into gear, drove down the few hundred yards to the town and pulled in at the pub.