That old map of the farm, up on the back wall: yeah, that’s one item I’d like to keep. Set it aside to take with me – I don’t want to forget that.

There was no electricity here when we were kids. Again, not all that unusual this far out in the sticks, back in those days. But there’s still none now; no gas, either. How does this place work? No idea: there’s nothing modern here that I recognise as doing this or that. It must have made sense to them, I guess, but it sure as heck doesn’t make sense to me.

Glad I brought that little camping-stove with me. Could do with a cuppa before I get going on this.

—

Water. Where do I get water?

Oh, that’s right. This hasn’t changed, either. There’s a water-pipe that looks like a tree-root, coming sideways along the kitchen wall. Ends in a simple spigot thing over the sink. No tap, you just wave the pot or whatever underneath it and it starts running. If you got it wrong, you got sprayed with water right in the face. Did that quite often when we were here. On purpose, sometimes. Aunt Kat never yelled about it, though, which was good of her.

I used to think that the pipe was just a weird bit of decoration, but I can see now that it actually is made of a tree-root. Or a vine-tendril. Something like that, anyway. I knew they were frugal and all that, but doesn’t that seem to be carrying thrift just a weird bit too far? And if it is a tree-root, how on earth did they bore it to get the water through?

Not that there’s much flow from it now. More like a dribble. But it’s enough for a kettle. Eventually. And there’s no bad smell from the water, and nothing floating in it, so should be safe enough to drink once I’ve boiled it.

I could do with that tea.

—

There’s nothing in the sink – still the same wooden sink as back then, I notice. But it’s clean and dry. And dishes all put away. She must have done the last washing-up before she died. Or the guys tidied up after they found her. Was kind of them, if so. Need to find out who to thank for that.

Took a quick look in the pantry. Almost bare, apart from a couple of ancient tins and a box of breakfast-cereal. Looks like what she let us have for breakfast, as something known, back when we were kids.

Hey, yeah, it really is that old. It could well be the same darn box. The last made food-thing they’d bought? Fifty years ago?

Talk about living off the land…