“Look up to your right,” said Anika, pointing. Birds circled high in the clear blue skies. “Red kites. There’re loads round here. There’s a sanctuary for them somewhere along this road.”
“That right?” I watched them circling.
“We’re almost there now.”
“Already?”
“It’s a short drive but it’s another world, isn’t it?”
It certainly was. I opened the window to let fresh air pour over me, relishing the coolness on my skin. The car slowed and Anika made a right turn. I hung out of the window looking for evidence of holiday cottages. We took a left onto a road that wound sharply upward. Although narrow, it was tarmacked and the hedgerows and verges had been cut back. Anika pulled into a driveway.
“This is it.”
She parked outside a low stone cottage, one of several nestled into the steep hillside. I guessed, from their appearance, that they were miners’ cottages, perhaps remnants of the Welsh gold rush.