by Leah Hope
“Ok, I’ll find it” Bridget replied, getting to her feet.”
If truth were told, the real reason for Bridget’s offer to act as dairy maid was that she was starting to get one of her heads. She’d only had one glass of champagne so she hoped it wasn’t the start of a migraine. That would definitely put the spoilers on tomorrow. While she was in the utility room she took a couple of paracetamol that she always kept in her pocket “for emergencies”. That should do it, plus a few minutes of bracing Yorkshire air, she told herself as she left the farmhouse by the side door and headed across the courtyard.
Bridget had been hoping to catch a glimpse of the interior so she was disappointed to discover that all the curtains were closed. As she walked up the little gravel path, Bridget took in the tubs of colourful flowers and hanging baskets which gave the cottage a real English country garden feel. She knocked the brightly painted front door and waited. After a couple of moments, a young woman answered.
“Oh hello, I’ve brought the milk and butter you asked for” Bridget said with a smile.
“Thanks very much” the woman replied “we’re all gasping for a cuppa so you’re a very welcome sight!”
“I’m sorry it’s late, but it’s my fault, well mine and my brother’s actually, we’re staying with….”
Bridget was cut short when a voice came from within the cottage.
“Who is it love?”
The woman turned round as a man came into the little hallway.
“Oh hello, I thought it was Cathy” he said, making his way to the front door.
Bridget was about to reply but as the man came nearer and stood under the full glare of the hall light, she looked up and found herself staring into the smiling face of Malcolm Cresswell.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Bridget froze. A million thoughts buzzed around in her head in the space of a few short seconds. Was it really him? Maybe she was mistaken. After all, she’d only spent a few minutes in his company and for most of that time she’d been talking to “Sheila”. Then a terrible thought flashed into her head. If I recognise him, maybe he recognises me as the woman from the ferry. What if he has killed his wife and he’s got an axe or a gun hidden behind the door. Bridget began to tremble. Hoping that her face wasn’t betraying her fears, she stammered a few words to the affect that she didn’t want to keep them from their tea and bid the man and the woman goodnight.
As she made her way back to the farmhouse, desperate to run but knowing that she shouldn’t, an image of Malcolm Cresswell’s face as he shut the door of the cottage came into her mind. What was that expression that appeared fleetingly across his face? Was it a flicker of recognition? She didn’t think so but maybe it was puzzlement. Maybe he was trying to place the woman on his doorstep. She’d got away with it. Well for now anyway. But how long would it take him to remember where he’d seen her before. Trying very hard to hurry whilst pretending that she wasn’t, Bridget was relieved when she found herself back in the hallway of the farmhouse.
She could hear the murmur of voices in the kitchen-diner and popped her head around the door, hoping to attract Gil’s attention whilst not disturbing the others. But Gil, John and Tom had moved on to the hard stuff and were each sipping from a glass of amber liquid. A bottle on the island suggested it was brandy. Bridget had no alternative but to make a few loud “pssts” from the doorway. Gil eventually looked in her direction, and intrigued as to why he was being beckoned, got up and went into the hall.
“What’s the big secret Bridge? Why didn’t you want to come in?”
“Because I’ve just seen him and I don’t know what to do. Oh Gil it was awful, he was just standing there a couple of feet in front of me. I don’t know if…”
“Whoa, whoa” Gil interjected, more puzzled than ever. “Who are you talking about? I thought you’d gone over to take some milk to the holiday cottage. Sorry Bridge but you’re not making any sense.”
“I did. Take the milk I mean. But a woman answered the door, well a young woman and then man came into the hall and it was him. It was definitely him! Gil we’ve got to do something.”
“Bridget, please slow down and tell me who you saw.”
“Malcolm Cresswell of course, who else would I be so worked up about.”
“Malcolm Cresswell! Are you absolutely sure?”
“I wasn’t at first but now it all fits. The woman must be his daughter Rachel and I’m sure I heard someone turn the television down in one of the rooms so that could have been Sheila, the real one I mean. We need to get Mark on the phone straight away before they get away. Have you got your phone handy? Mine’s on charge.”
“Look Bridge, I know you’re pretty sure it was him but what if we get Mark all the way up here and it turns out not to be him. We’re going to look pretty foolish.”
“Yes but if it is him and we do nothing, we’re going to look just as foolish.”
Gil agreed his sister had a point.
“Ok, fair enough. What if I pop over there, on some sort of pretext? I could say we’ve got some food left over or something and would they like it, and maybe I can get a look at him too.”
“But you said you never really got a good look at him or Sheila so do you think you’d really recognise him?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll give it a go. I don’t want to worry the others that there might be a criminal in their cottage so if you go back outside and then go into the utility room by the side door, grab some food and meet me outside the front door. I’ll just grab my jacket, it’s probably a bit nippy out there.”
“Ok, but you will be careful won’t you. I know we’ve all come to think that Sheila Cresswell is still alive, but we don’t know for sure. He could be armed so don’t do anything silly.”
As Bridget opened the front door, she noticed some movement near the holiday cottages across the courtyard to her right.
“Gil, quickly, they’re making a run for it!” she shouted as she saw Malcolm and Rachel Cresswell climb into their car, followed shortly by another woman.
Gil rushed back into the hall just in time to see Bridget leap into Cindy.
“Ring Mark. Tell him I need back up. Now Gil and get their number!” Bridget yelled as the Cresswell’s car drove off.
As Bridget zoomed off in a cloud of dust, Gil was momentarily frozen to the spot. Then his brain kicked in again, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He stared after the Cresswell’s rapidly disappearing car trying to make out the number plate.
By now, John and Cathy plus Celia and Tom were all gathered outside the farmhouse.
“What on earth’s going on Gil?” John asked, clearly alarmed.
“Sorry, no time to explain so please just do as I ask. Bridget’s life could depend on it!” Gil told a clearly terrified John to ring the local police and ask them to intercept a red Ford Siesta with three people inside. He added that the number plate began with a K and ended with the letters M something S, which was all that he had been able to spot. As John made the call from the farmhouse’s land line, Gil rang Mark Addison from his mobile.
“She’s done what!” Mark’s angry voice exploded in his ear. “Why on earth didn’t you stop her Gil?”
“Because she just took off, shouting for back up. Back up? Who does she think she is? Someone who’s watched too many re-runs of Cagney and Lacey that’s who. Believe me Mark if there was any chance of stopping her I would have.” As he reflected for a moment, Gil realised that it was fear rather than anger he’d heard in Mark’s voice. He suddenly became very afraid for his sister.
“Ok, Gil, I know how er, single-minded Bridget can be” Mark said, choosing his words carefully. “It would have been easier to stop a whirlwind. But don’t worry, I’ll get on to the local police and put them in the picture. I’ll try to get up there myself as soon as I can. Unfortunately, the budget won’t run to a chopper so I’ll have to use a patrol car. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”
“Blue lights all the way then.”
“You bet. Oh and Gil, try not to worry. Your sister is one determined cookie but she’s not foolhardy.”
As Gil ended his call, he made his way back into the house. Four pairs of anxious eyes met his. He knew he would have to offer them a full explanation, but what he wanted most was to set off after Bridget and make sure she was safe. He couldn’t do that of course as he’d had far too much to drink. He doubted he would get out of the farmyard without hitting or killing something. After giving as brief an account as he could about the identity of the family in the holiday cottage, the four stared at him with amazement.
“Come on Gil, come and sit down in the warm, there’s nothing you can do out there” Cathy said as she gently shepherded him towards an armchair in the living-room.
“But I can’t just leave her Cathy, for all her confidence Bridget’s only been driving for a couple of months. Besides, it’s starting to get dark and she’s never driven at night before, and on strange roads too. I’m sorry Cathy, I can’t just sit here. If only I hadn’t had so flaming much to drink, I’d be after her like a shot.”
“Don’t beat yourself up Gil, you didn’t know any of this was about to happen. If anything, it’s us who are to blame for letting that man into our cottage. We were only too eager to accept his booking when he turned up out of the blue and paid cash up front. We didn’t even bother to ask for any ID.”
“We’re going to have to tighten up on that in future” said John. “We can’t just let any Tom, Dick or Harry onto our property without proper checks, we’ve got the kids to think of don’t forget and there are a lot of nutters out there.”
“I agree, we’ve been far too lax but that’s for another day. Bridget is the concern now” Cathy replied. “Did the police say they would update you John?”
“Yes but it could be a while. They could be anywhere by now.” Seeing the look of horror on Gil’s face, John wished he’d chosen his words more carefully. “Sorry Gil, what I meant was that they could have taken any one of four roads. Don’t forget that Malcolm Cresswell or whatever he’s called doesn’t know the area either so he’s going to have to take it easy.”
Gil had been so worried about Bridget that he hadn’t noticed Celia get up out of her seat or return quietly to the room.
“Put this on Gil, we’re going to find your sister” Celia said, throwing Gil’s jacket on his lap.
“But haven’t you had too much to drink too?” Gil asked.
“No, I’ve been nursing one glass of champagne for most of the afternoon, which I topped up with lemonade now and again. Don’t worry, I’m well within the limit.”
“Well if you’re sure” Gil replied, hastily putting on his jacket.
“Well if you’re going, I’m going too” John and Tom said, almost in unison.
“You’ll be ok here on your own love won’t you?” John said as he gave his wife a kiss.
“I’ll be fine, Emma’s around somewhere so I’ll have company so don’t worry about me. But let me know as soon as you have some news and keep your phone on John, you know what you’re like.”
With that, the four headed out into the courtyard and climbed into an ancient looking Land Rover Defender. Celia started it up like a veteran and the old vehicle slowly trundled through the farm gate.
*
Since they had no idea which road the Cresswells had taken, John suggested they head north. “I think he’ll try to avoid going south as the police might expect him to make for his home patch.”
“It’s as good a suggestion as any” Gil said. “But they’ve got such a head start on us, they could be miles away by now.”
“You’re right” John replied “but at least we’re doing something. I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather be out here than sitting at home waiting for the phone to ring.”
“Yes of course. I’d have hit the brandy again and wouldn’t be any use to anyone. I just wish we could spot something, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“After we pass through the next village, the road really opens out and you can see for miles ahead. There’s not usually much traffic at this time of night so spotting the lights of two cars traveling close together might be a bit easier” Celia said, trying to sound more optimistic than she felt.
As Celia negotiated a sharp left hand bend in the village’s narrow streets, John’s phone rang making everyone jump. It was Cathy asking if there was any news. John replied in the negative and his wife confirmed that she didn’t have any either.
With the village behind them, all four stared intently at the road ahead for any signs of Bridget and the Cresswells.
“Do you think you should try another road son?” Tom asked, peering through the increasingly gloomy light at the landscape in front of him.
“Maybe, but I’ll carry on for a few more miles yet. I was thinking of parking up at that viewing point, you know the one near The Beacon pub, to see if we could spot anything.”
“That sounds a good idea love” Celia replied. “I think I can see the lights in The Beacon, so not much further.”
The Beacon was always a popular spot for tourists and tonight was no exception. The little car-park was full to over-flowing. People who made the climb for the view kidded themselves they deserved a drink or two as a reward for their efforts even though the majority arrived by car rather than on foot. It was good for business though and the place was booming.
Celia pulled into the viewing point a few hundred yards further on, her three passengers anxious to get out to start scanning the horizon for any signs of their quarry. She stretched her legs as she jumped down from the driving seat and made her way over to where the others were standing near the guard-rail which protected over-eager members of the public from the steep drop below. At another time Gil would have been fascinated by the brass map set into a plinth of Yorkshire stone which showed the position of local villages and landmarks. It was totally useless in the dark of course but Gil made a mental note to stop off on the way home. As he looked up, it didn’t take long to spot the blue flashing lights in the distance.
“Look down there” Gil shouted, pointing to a spot no more than a mile away down the hill where what looked to be a melee of police cars, ambulances and at least two fire engines were grouped. “That’s got to be them. Oh god no!”
Celia put her arm around her nephew, pulling him close. “Come on, let’s get down there as quick as we can” she said, giving a worried glance to Tom and John over Gil’s shoulder.
Within minutes, the Land Rover pulled up behind a police car which was parked at right-angles across the road, acting as a road block. Gil jumped out and spotted a couple of uniformed police officers who seemed to be in deep discussion with a fireman. As he made his way towards them he could see what looked to be the Cresswells’ car which until then had been partially hidden by the make-shift road block. Its bonnet was severely crushed. Immediately in front of it was Bridget’s little red sports car on its side at right-angles to the other car. There was no sign of the occupants of either vehicle.
“That’s my sister’s car” Gil cried out, his voice breaking as he did so. “Where is she, is she alright?”
One of the uniformed officers stepped forward. “Good evening sir. You say you are the brother of the driver of this vehicle.”
“Yes, please let me know if she’s ok.” Gil was almost hysterical by now.
“Ok sir, I know it’s difficult, but just try to keep calm. Now if you could just give me your name and address ….”
“Bridget!” Gil shouted as the back of one of the two ambulances opened and there was his sister, sitting on the edge of the stretcher bed wrapped in a blanket. She had a dressing above her left eye and her left arm, which was just peeking out of the blanket, appeared to be in a sling. Ignoring the police officer’s question, Gil sprinted towards her.
“Oh Gil, thank goodness you’re here. I didn’t have my phone and I knew you’d all be worried…..”
“Ne
ver mind about that” Gil interjected. “How are you? Have you been injured?”
“Just a bit, but I’m ok. I feel so stupid now, I don’t know what on earth I was thinking of. I’ve been breathalysed too but as I’d only had the one glass of champagne, I was well within the limit. Can you imagine if I’d been charged with drunk driving just a few weeks after passing my test, I’d never get over the shame.”
“Well don’t worry about that now” Gil replied, keen to avoid saying anything that would cause Bridget to feel worse than she already did. “The most important thing is that you’re still in one piece.”
“Excuse me sir” said a paramedic who appeared from in front of the vehicle. “Do you know this lady?”
“Yes, she’s my sister, Bridget Honeyman. Can you tell me what her injuries are.”
“She’s suffered cuts and bruises, a sprained wrist and possibly a slight concussion but considering what happened, there don’t appear to be any serious injuries. She will of course need to be fully checked out at hospital. One thing though, she keeps asking about Cindy. There were no signs of anyone else in the vehicle, so do you know who she’s referring to. A pet maybe?”
Gil smiled and explained. Whilst his sister had escaped relatively unscathed, the same couldn’t be said of poor Cindy. He glanced across at the damage but it looked terminal to him. He knew a write-off when he saw one. How on earth was he going to break the news?
“What exactly happened here, do you know?” Gil asked the paramedic.
“Well clearly there’s been a collision of some sort between your sister’s vehicle and the Fiesta but you’ll need to ask the police about precisely what happened.”
“Ok, I will. But what about the people in the other car, are they ok?”
“If you’re not related to them sir I can’t give you any details I’m afraid, so again you’ll need to speak to the police.”
By now, Celia, Tom and John had arrived to join Gil. Bridget gave them a little wave.
“She’s ok! Oh thank goodness for that” Celia gasped, doubling over to put her hands on her thighs for support. When she had recovered, she rushed towards the ambulance to speak to Bridget, hardly daring to believe that she was alive.
