Alex warmed up the Land Rover thoroughly, hovered at the exit from the yard behind the pub until she could be sure of getting out without being seen, and gunned the engine.
She hoped no one looked through a window to see her slide, half sideways, on to the road.
Tony’s opinion of this trip had been obvious – he didn’t want her to go. Her mother had looked anxious when all she’d been told was that Alex would probably be gone the rest of the day and possibly night. But Lily made a habit of not asking for information that wasn’t offered, so didn’t know where Alex was going.
Mixed rain and snow in the early morning had reverted to steady, light snow a couple of hours ago. The roads were covered with a layer thin enough to allow the heavy vehicle to sink straight through to the crunchy, frozen remains of the last fall that had frozen there.
Her route was the same old B4068 until she could cut off toward Bourton-on-the-Water and the A429. Then she hadn’t far to go before she passed within a couple of miles of Upper and Lower Slaughter toward the A road.
Alex had only traveled a couple of miles between dry stone walls and frostbitten hedgerows when a farmer ventured from a gate, signaled with his crook, and a herd of sheep like puffed up marshmallows on dark sticks came pouring across the road. A sheepdog raced, belly to the ground, from one side of the group to the other, disappearing back into the exit field for stragglers before shooting out to funnel his charges to their destination and a good feed.
When her breath started making clouds of vapor, Alex remembered to turn on the heater. With her thick coat she hadn’t felt the cold before. Alex Duggins had been watching sheep herded across roads, paths and tracks since her earliest memories.
Duggins. Yes, she liked being Alex Duggins again. It felt right and it was who she was. Her marriage, or most parts of it, seemed far away. She was starting to heal in some ways.
At last, the gates were closed and the roadway clear. She drove fairly slowly, on the lookout for more obstacles, until she made the final turn toward Bourton.
As she got around the bend she saw a familiar red vehicle up on the left verge. Will Cummings’ panel van with the bonnet up.
Will’s head and upper body emerged from the innards of the Volkswagen and he immediately jumped up and down and waved his arms.
Smiling, she ran the Land Rover on to the verge and stopped in front of him. He arrived at her window as she got it rolled down. ‘Didn’t you think I’d see you?’ she chuckled. ‘Jumping jacks on a day like this will give you a heart attack. Or they’d give me one.’
‘That thing was just serviced,’ he sputtered. ‘I called the mechanic and his wife said he’s out and there’s no one else to come. Ah, that’s the way it is these days. Used to be a man’s work was his pride and he’d want to get here any way he could. Not now. They all feel too sodding important – beggin’ your pardon, but truth be told he’s probably in front of the telly watching Coronation Street.’
‘Let me help, Will.’ Alex was anxious. She wanted to get into London as quickly as possible.
‘Well—’ He looked her in the eye, then settled his attention on the distance where only snow-covered fields with a white pall hanging above them could be of interest. ‘Hmm. P’raps I should try myself a bit longer.’
‘That’s silly, Will. Lock it up and I’ll drive you until we can find someone to come and get it going – or give you a tow.’
His gray woolen hat sat atop his head as if it would pop off at any second. Despite the cold he was perspiring and his face shone. His agitation was catching.
‘Not all of them work on diesel,’ he said. Finally he added: ‘Thank you, I’ll take you up on your offer,’ slammed down his bonnet and ran around to the passenger side of the Land Rover.
As soon as he was buckled in, she took off again. ‘Shall I go into Bourton?’
His sigh was huge. ‘To tell the truth, I’m in a pickle. I’ve got to get to London. Fast.’
She glanced at him. ‘Where in London?’
He drummed his fists on his thighs. ‘Any Tube station will do. I can get where I want easy enough.’
Could he be going to Reverend Restrick, too? She dare not ask.
‘I’m going into London. I can take you where you need to go.’ She smiled. ‘As long as it isn’t Wapping or somewhere. I’d only get lost there.’
He took a while to respond, then said, ‘Whereabouts are you going?’
This wasn’t her strong suit, making things up on the fly. ‘I’m meeting some old friends from art school. They’re in Notting Hill.’ That wasn’t so far from Praed Street and St Mary’s but it wouldn’t give her real destination away.
‘I’ll be glad of that then, lass,’ he said, sounding as he had when she was a girl. ‘You’re an old hand at the drive but I bet I can show you a shorter way to the A429.’