The Yorkshire Healer
Ashwick Dale did not end so much as it faded. One road went in from the moors, another went out to the sea, and a third went nowhere at all, just petered out between two stone walls like a sentence without a conclusion. Arthur Pemberton had spent twenty-three years believing the third road was the only one worth taking. The night Agnes Pemberton died, Arthur was three miles away in a Manchester...
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