Upload & Sell: Off
Thanks everyone. The entire estate was named Wuthering Heights and was sprawling with lonely cottages in different corners. The cottages were made from scratch in olden fashion, the guestbook had pictures of the owners' family casting the bricks into the mold and firing it in the kiln; so they've got a rough hewn look and imperfections to them.
We arrived when it was almost dark and we started driving around, grabbing the pencil-drawn map left on the coffee table. The largest, appropriately named Bronte Manor, had lights in the windows but with no other sounds emanating from it. A lone wallaby eyed us from the field suspiciously.
Tinkling of laughter drew us to the next cottage, bordered by tiny dried up creek. The tiny wooden bridge looked suspect, flaking red paint and all, but we shrugged it off - it had to be safe, that's the only way they could have crossed.
Just when our first two wheels creaked onto the wooden floors, a jalopy came racing out to us from behind, from nowhere, horns blaring, headlights flashing. The long flaxen haired man jumped out, arms akimbo flailing in an X, yelling with a distinct brogue, 'Stop!'