Hot Revenge Box Set 2

James joins us, stretching out his legs in the passenger seat as Richard takes us down the mountain and back onto the main highway. Then, he curves around the base of the mountain before turning off to follow first a side-road; then a narrow country lane.

We pass frozen fields, frigid and sparkling, lined by hedgerows of hawthorn and crab apples, bare of leaves but bright with winter fruit. The fields give way to woodland, the trees stretching naked branches towards the thin sunlight filtering under the grey sky.

Crossing a humped stone bridge, we cross rushing water; the road narrow enough that Richard slows down, steering carefully to avoid scraping the sides of his car.

Then, as we turn a corner, the woodland opens up to reveal a huge building; neglected and abandoned, four storeys high, built from brick and stone. Even from here, I can see that the windows are barred, much of the glass broken.

“This is it.” Richard draws in towards tall steel-bar gates, razor wire looping over the top. One faded sign declares that Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted. Another, the paint peeling from a security camera icon warns, This Area Is Under 24 Hour Surveillance.

A blue-uniformed guard stands waiting then, as he sees us, pushes the gates open.

Richard winds down his window. “All unlocked?”

“Yes, sir. I opened up all the doors. Would you like me to accompany you and your party?”

“No, that’s fine. We can manage.” He drives through, pulling up onto cracked tarmac which vanishes under nettles and briars at the edges. What parts of the surface aren’t potholed, are carpeted in lush green moss.

Stepping with care to avoid slipping on icy ground, I raise hands to my cheeks, “Oh. My. God.”

swings his head, slowly from left to right and back again, turning on the spot through three-sixty degrees. “I’ll

as we survey the ramshackle building and the land

with soot, green-streaked from the guttering. Small trees sprout from cracks and crevices. Ivy both scrambles up from the ground and, perversely, drapes over the wall from the roof. What might once have been a flagpole juts out, rusty and bare. Pigeons emerge

at the thoughts of what it might

was an industrial landscape, but manufacturing and commerce abandoned it long ago, and this

“It’s huge,” I breathe.

says Richard. His voice is matter-of-fact. “… when you include all the outbuildings. Plenty of space

one side to reveal the round domes of old cobbles underneath. He turns to Richard, arms outspread. “This? All of it?

long overcoat, nods. “Ah-ha. The mill, the sheds and annexes. About two acres of grounds in

adds James, turning up his collar… “… a lot of

around. There’s a couple of areas that aren’t safe, such as the old pulping pits. And some of the outbuildings are structurally unsound. But all such areas are either locked up or fenced off. So, if you can get to

his teeth. “Pulping pits? What did they

papermill originally.” He aims a finger

the side of the

It’s a mill…

we’re