I
finished the story and both Mary and I looked at Oak, intrigued as to
what had happened on Pilgrim's Wake.
“Well?”
Mary prompted when he failed to speak. “Are you going to tell us
what's happened there?”
“What?”
Oak replied, as if suddenly roused from a dream. “Oh yes, sorry.
Graffiti. A group of teenagers have written 'The Hobbled Kollop
knows where YOU live,” eight feet tall and decorated in the modern
style.” He pondered for a moment before speaking again. “Show
the connections.” he commanded, and lines began to make their way
across the map, resulting in what can best be described as an eight
spoke wheel, with our house at its centre.
