‘Shit,’ murmurs Tom. Together we grab everything in sight before squeezing under the bed. Again I’m grateful for my instinct to tidy up this morning and to make the bed. Thankfully there’s a big ottoman storage bench at the end of the bed that will obscure us from sight should they think to check the bedrooms.
It’s dusty under there and I lie with my face on the floor while my heart beats double-time. Tom puts an arm around my back, his fingers stroking my bare skin where my top has ridden up, as if he’s try to calm me. It’s soothing but the apprehension holds me in a tight grip, the resultant tension pinching with mean fingers at every one of my muscles.
Tom’s touch becomes firmer as the familiar buzzing sound gets louder. I can imagine it at the window like a fly beating the glass to get in. I close my eyes tight, willing the men to go away. The buzz dies away and I let out a tiny breath. The drone is obviously casting its lens elsewhere but we stay put. It won’t be safe until we hear them leave.
Ten minutes turns into fifteen and then twenty. I need a pee but there’s no way I’m risking moving or even talking. By mutual agreement neither of us has said a word. The hunters have access to all sorts of sophisticated kit, what if they have listening devices? After half an hour, Tom taps my arm and motions with his thumb. He whispers into my ear. ‘I’m going to take a look.’
‘Okay. Be careful.’
He inches out from under the bed and belly-crawls across to the window. Just watching him, my head cricked at an awkward angle, makes me feel nervous.
Seconds later, he’s back.
‘They’re using the drone to reconnoitre the surrounding area, they’re standing beside the Land Rover with a monitor. Hopefully when they don’t find anything they’ll leave.’
‘God I hope so.’
Suddenly he puts his hand to his head, he’s still wearing his woolly hat encircled by the GoPro strap. ‘Shit. I forgot to turn it off,’ he says with a lopsided grin. ‘That’ll give them some footage.’ He reaches up and removes the camera and hat in one swipe before switching the GoPro off.
The minute the car doors slam, I sag, all the pent-up tension oofing out of me in one popped balloon release.
‘Fuck, that was close,’ says Tom with an elated grin and a fist pump.
‘I nearly died when I saw them and you were on the drive.’ I give him a tentative grin, the relief still taking a minute to settle.
‘I thought you’d had an accident or something.’ There’s an echo of genuine concern on his face and he nods his head towards my leg. ‘You know it’s bleeding again.’
‘Probably me running down the stairs in a spin,’ I say, giving my leg a rueful look. Blood is seeping through the white bandage. ‘Do you think they’ll come back?’
‘I doubt it.’ Tom sighs. ‘Sounds like that slip road is a no-go though. Now what do we do?’
‘I don’t know.’
We both sink into depressed silence. We’re so close and yet so far. The prize is ours if we could just get to London in time.
Chapter Twenty-Two LYDIA
After a lunch of scrambled eggs on toast made by Tom, we sit in the kitchen for a while. A morose mood has settled over both of us and neither of has said much. My eyes stray to the calendar and Tom’s gaze follows mine. I study the page, coming back to the small square of Saturday that is tomorrow.
‘Maybe they’ll let us off, if you get there by yourself, if I’m injured,’ I suggest. ‘And anyone on the lookout would be looking for two people not one, so they’d ignore you.’
He gives me a kind but definitely an are-you-stupid look. ‘Lydia, I’m not leaving you on your own. Besides I reckon they’d use any and every excuse to stop us winning.’
‘You’re not responsible for me, though.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ he says and there’s a touch of humour in his words. ‘You’re the most stubbornly independent woman I’ve ever met.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘Actually, I think it is.’
‘Aw, that’s nice,’ I say in teasing voice and he smirks at me.
‘Behave.’
I’m smiling back at him and then I look at the calendar again and the cheesy photo above the dates, the big shiny blue cab with a grinning man standing beside it. It’s hardly sexy firemen. Then I remember the blue lorries passing back and forth this morning.
I leap up, ignoring the searing pain that runs down my leg, and take the calendar from the wall, scrambling through the pages to find the back page.
‘They’re in Sadgill,’ I say and turn to Tom.
‘What?’
‘I know how we can get to London, tomorrow.’
‘You do?’
I point to the calendar. ‘Local haulage company. I’ve seen loads of their lorries go past. The depot can’t be that far away. We could go and ask them if we could have a lift to the nearest town.’
‘What if they say no?’
‘I’ll go all weak and feeble on them and show them my leg. And what if they say yes?’
He looks at me consideringly and a slow smile fills his face. ‘We’ve got nothing to lose. It’s definitely worth a try. It’s that or a mountain bike.’
‘No, it isn’t. I can’t ride a bike.’
