Chapter 6A: A Big Move

NARRATIVE

Charlie was mesmerised by the disappearance of the gunman between the two large rail carriages. She stared in the dimming light at the ballasted track searching with her eyes for any sign of a deformed body. Nothing was seen though a mangled shoe rested at the bottom of the track ballast near where the unseen gun had fallen. It had been struck by a wheel and had been thrown a few feet further away from the track.

Then she thought of the red shape that had disappeared from view and tears grew in her eyes.

But suddenly she felt herself comfortably enveloped in her man's arms, accepting his presence for what it was. It was a few minutes before it occurred to her to stand back, stare at him and ask. Already she sensed the colour of his waterproof was not was not the same red of the rail passenger's jacket.

"Bb-but," she was hardly able to articulate her question. "W-where did you come from?"

"I told you not to come," he admonished, "I told you there's someone out to kill me, and you almost ended up a goner."

What was evident was his over-protective concern for her. That made everything else pale into insignificance as far as she was concerned.

"I thought I'd been careful all day, I can't work out how he was here." Scott muttered to himself as much as in apology to his companion as trying to work it out himself.

"But how did you get here?"

He said quietly, "Just let's say I've got a car and I think, after that, we ought to get as far away as possible from here, but first let's see what remains there are of him."

"Eugh!"

Nothing she indicated was on the darkening length of the rail track. "Where's the gun?"

Scott got more worried. He was shocked that he might have killed a man, even if he was a killer himself it made him feel bad. It was a jolt to the system of any law abiding person. He was aware of how hard he'd thrown that ball, "I would have thought he'd be out for a couple hours at least," he muttered. "He's probably come round and grabbed hold of something. The next station's Brockenhurst, not far down the line, we'd better get out of here quick."

"We have one problem."

"What's that?"

"If he doesn't make it, he'll have a hell of a dent in his head complete with the imprint of the stitching, and it'll be red from the leather casing. We'd better find it."

"What?"

"My cricket ball."

"Stupid thing to worry about, your cricket ball?"

"They can probably get DNA off it, I'm sure. And fingerprints, it's the only thing to connect him with us. Don't want us to get involved here, but if they find it, it'll have my DNA on it and his I could be up for murder."

"But he was trying to..."

"I know that, but just let's find the ball, eh, before it gets too dark to see."

"Your cricket ball?"

He looked at her, puzzled that she didn't understand, "How do you think you got away from him?"

"I pushed him?"

"Don't you think the fact that he was stunned or unconscious had anything to do with it?"

"What?"

"I threw the ball at him, hard enough to kill him, I thought. But at least I stunned him."

"Your ball? You threw it?"

"Too right," What was she? Dumb? "We want to get away from here."

"I thought he was pulling the trigger when I struggled loose, but it just didn't happen."

Suddenly he saw it in the weeds. The ball had rebounded quite a distance, it had rolled over the paving stones and come to rest by some tall weeds.

"Eugh!" groused Scott sensing some blood on its leather casing and taking out a handkerchief to wrap it up in.

He followed up with, "Do we leave his car here or try to get rid of it?"

They wasted precious minutes trying to decide, ignoring the fact that Charlie couldn't drive.

Scott came up with the brilliant idea. "We drive it into Southampton near their football club. There's a music festival on tonight. If we leave it with his keys in, it'll be sure to get stolen in minutes and that will complicate tracing us."

"Clever, clever!" jeered Charlie who appeared to know more about stolen cars than he did. " And how many police do you think will be around the streets looking for any stupid yobbos. You don't think that they will notice a car with its keys in. You were the one talking about DNA, I'm sure if you drive a car, the forensics can now trace you by DNA, you'll be leaving tons of evidence if you as much as touch it," They both stared at the Peugeot.

That idea was knocked on the head.

"Where's this car of yours, then?" asked Charlie.

"I put it in the car park over the way," he waved his hand towards the trees, "the large hotel."

"Don't you think we better getting in it and just scarper?"

Scott gave the matter some consideration, very aware that, in her anxiety in having had a gun pulled on her, Charlie was all over him. Both arms were in some way around his body.

He shook her loose, so as not to draw attention to the pair of them, then sauntered into the parking area and made for an old-style VW Passat.

"How did you get this? Is there enough petrol and it if we leave now, how many miles can we go?"

"I'll tell you later. Your idea of immediately putting as many miles as possible between us and the new Forest isn't so good. The first thing that anyone looking for us would do, would be to find an empty tent with all our kit in it. Heh! You like camping, do you really want to leave all our camping gear; your new sleeping bag and... ?"

"Well, we can just go pick everything up on the way"

"Two people on foot suddenly turn up by car and disappear at nine o'clock at night! Scott looked at her carefully, "We don't want to attract attention." He was very confident and most demanding that she listen to him.

By this time they were in the car and with a jerk were on their way onto the road and his mind was working quickly, but he was distracted by Charlie, "I'm sure you said you couldn't drive."

"Quiet. I'm concentrating."

He had just been flashed by an oncoming car because he had not put on his lights. He pulled to the side of the road and it was Charlie who indicated where the switch was for the dipped headlights. "Apart from anything else, it's bad enough driving during the daytime, but at night, I haven't a clue," he groused.

He carefully made his way through the town of Lyndhurst and drove up towards the camp. Almost there, he turned off down a little lane and then, with a great deal of difficulty started backing up. They were within a mile or so of the campsite.

Scott had already decided that he would hide the car behind some trees where the ground was firm. A few times he got out of the car to check that there were no big hollows in the ground or tree stumps in the way. He was pretty sure that the ground would support the car without skidding when he wanted to get it out.

"I noticed this when we came by here a couple of days ago." He never said that he noticed it because it was the type of place that he and Josie had once used to make love in a little coppice hidden away from anybody passing by. It was one of his habits when out walking to spy out such lovers' trysts though he never had any intention of taking advantage of them.

"Phew!" The effort of driving, particularly at nightfall and not knowing the car was bad enough, but this last little bit of reversing had been as much as I could cope with.

Locking the car up I suggested, "We check out of the campsite early tomorrow when they open, with all our kit on our backs. Maybe we get a few items of food that'll fit in the rucksacks. When we leave I guess we'll suggest in the camp shop we're hiking down towards Burley, as we've covered most of this area. We want to be seen leaving on foot then we pick up the car and make our way north.

"We don't race and we do nothing to attract attention, just make a normal departure from here."

She was still on about the car, "Did you steal the car? Have we got enough money for petrol?"

Don't ever say that again, or we'll damage the engine, you have to put diesel in the tank. And no, I didn't steal it, I bought it."

"What with?"

"I told you I was going to get some money"

"Where did you get the money from? Whose is it?"

"I think it's mine - on account."

"On account, account of what? Did you pinch something and sell it?"

Every so often I was reminded of what must have passed for normal behaviour around Charlie's home life, where such things regarded as acceptable. "Honestly, do you think I would?"

"Well, no, but..."

Yeh, I could understand we'd done a lot that wasn't exactly honest, "From what I can gather, I'm to get the money and a bit more, but not everything is settled. An old uncle or cousin left me some and it's not sorted out. I think what the killing's all about. I suppose someone else wants it."

"It must be a lot."

"Don't ask me, I've got to contact a Swiss bloke, but I told him there were problems here. He said he'd get it sorted, or that's what I think he said. I'm not contacting him again until he's had time to straighten it all out."

"I guess it's all a big con"

"A con? A confidence trick?"

"That's what they do. I've seen it on the tele. They give you a bit of money and want you to let them have thousands. Then they do a runner. You can't contact them, just like your Swiss bloke."

"Well, I think it's all genuine. They knew a lot about my family stuff I didn't even know myself."

Charlie wasn't convinced, "That's how they do it, it's all these foreigners in Nigereeah, is that near Switzerland?"

It struck me, I must buy a world atlas. Surely she should know the difference between African and European countries?

"Tell me about the car," she was eager to know.

"I'll tell you about that later tonight."

We slipped unseen into our tent and made a snack to eat, we were too excited to cook much.

"We're turning in early, nothing to eat in the morning, we want to be off early. Up at six and a shower, we'll eat on the road, well away from the New Forest. Tidy up your stuff. Leave out one towel, your toilet bag and a clean set of clothes and your hairbrush. You can do your hair in the car." It took ages to dry and brush out.

I was pleased at important times like this she never argued with my decisions, never questioned them. She knew a lot of them were based on the fact that I had more knowledge than she did, but she did argue about minor matters. That was fine with me.

I completely packed and showed Charlie how to pack her rucksack ready with everything in it or strapped to the outside. What to leave ready to get out, what to put at the bottom, like the cooking stuff. I dished out a plastic bag in which to hold the dirty laundry, and explained how she stuffed that wherever it would go, "But don't tear it, it'll reek out everything in your rucksack and everything will need to be rewashed," I offered as a warning.

"Heh, there's plenty more room in yours," she complained.

"And who has the bigger rucksack, and who's going to carry the tent and flysheet and the pegs and that tiny groundsheet, the mallet and..."

"Sorry," she murmured, "I just thought..."

The obvious riposte was, 'Well don't think', but that was unfair. I let it go.

We rose early and swigged half a pint of milk each that was left over. We'd have some choc bars once we were on our way.

She was surprised I left off having a shower until we had taken down the tent. I knew what a sweaty job it was and I insisted she did it in the tee-shirt she slept in (mine) and a pair of knickers.

I was right, she didn't freeze her arse off as she'd though she would.

First, rolling the sleeping bags tight in the enclosed tent was a sweaty job. It always is to squeeze them small enough fit in their waterproof carriers.

"Why bother? They won't get wet, it's not far?"

"And how many times over the last week or so has the weather changed in less than two hours? Do you want to sleep in a soaking wet sleeping bag tonight? I seem to remember you weren't so keen last time."

"Heh, where's my things? I had other clothes when I came..."

My laughter interrupted her. "Were you so blind a week ago? I just threw them into that big bin near the camp shop?"

"You didn't keep anything?"

"I kept saying for a week to sort the stuff out, get it washed."

I smiled to myself as I heard her saying to herself proudly, "I've got ALL new stuff." Sometimes she acted in such a mature fashion and then there were the times she was a little girl.

She now saw what I used the small groundsheet for at the front of the tent. Everything got put on that, off the dewy grass, to keep it dry.

I was quite strict in ensuring each tent peg was collected. They were hell when children fell over them and if you've ever put up a tent with some missing it's crap. That's why I have some spares. Even then, you can always be sure one gets bent or broken against a rock under the soil.

She was surprised how I folded up and tied the guy ropes. She tried it, but didn't like my insisting that she was tying them too tightly. "They're a bit wet, they'll be almost impossible to unknot like that,"

Finally it was the large flysheet. She thought I was stupid leaving the straggly guy ropes out of the bundle, but I told her they'd dry off in the wind as we walked.

"Why did you pack the anorak on top?" she asked.

"It's a matter of habit. If it starts to rain, you want to get at it as quickly as possible."

"You're not putting on your anorak today?"

"Just in case we were seen yesterday, I want the last sight of us here to be seen wearing different coloured tops that's what I hope people remember. OK, I might be being overcautious, but I can't be too careful. I thought I was taking every precaution yesterday, but still the man knew that I was at Beaulieu Road."

The route we took was quite a few miles, a bit of a detour. I was pleased that Charlie was coping well with the heavy load of her rucksack and a part of me wanted just to carry on yomping*.

That was not to be. It was a simple matter, to throw the two large rucksacks in the luggage space of the car, start it, and then very carefully drive off over the uneven ground until I reached the little track. I must admit that I drove very slowly. A few miles on, I pulled into a layby. Here we took off our fleeces and put on a set of clothes that looked less like those used by ramblers.

I looked at Charlie, "I want you to get a skirt."

Teasingly she looked back at me, "You like my legs?"

I know I blushed. "No, I'm just trying to change our image a bit. I'll buy some things less like those that we're already wearing, more casual, less utilitarian."

I had been considering a few precautions. Now we try to stay away from big modern places with loads of CCTV cameras. If we buy petrol..."

"Diesel!" she corrected.

"It's a good job you reminded me. If we buy diesel fuel, I'll try and find smaller garages."

We discussed a couple more precautions that we should take. It was then she saw me looking at her long red hair. She knew what I was thinking, but had I the courage to suggest that she do something about it?

I was saved by her going off at a tangent, "Now tell me how you managed to get this estate*. You never said anything about coming back with a vehicle when you went out yesterday morning."

"It never crossed my mind. I can't drive."

"What you mean you can't drive. You're driving now."

"I never took my driving test, I don't have a licence. In fact I didn't think I could drive."

"But how come you can?"

"It's quite easy. This isn't a manual like most cars in England, it's an automatic."

"But it's got a gear lever."

"It's not a gear lever as such. You don't have to push down the clutch pedal with your foot and work out when you have to change gear and fiddle around getting it into the right one."

"Anyone can do that."

"Anyone, but me! I've never been in the driving seat before. I told the woman who I was buying it from that I didn't know how to drive an automatic and she showed me. It's quite easy. You just select either forward, or reverse and take it from there. You only have to use one foot, it's only the accelerator to go faster and shift it to over to brake to go slower, no fiddling around with both feet."

"So why did you decide to get a car? Don't get me wrong. I think you had a good idea."

"I told you that I was trying to get some money. I went to this lawyer who had tried to contact me and I found out that I had inherited some money. I asked if it was possible to give me an advance in cash.

"He told me that the banks weren't open, but one of his friends ran a car firm."

"So did you get a good deal there?"

"No, but it was there I heard a salesman talking to a couple about an automatic. It gave me an idea"

"You don't have to have a licence?"

That was a bone of contention. I'd always thought myself a law-abiding citizen and I knew that at the moment I was both driving without a licence and, strictly speaking, without insurance. I hated people broke the law. "Don't tell anybody, but you of course everyone needs a licence and I haven't got one."

As she was taking this in, I added, "I think it is easier to get a licence with an automatic, but you're only allowed to drive automatics."

"'Nuff about your licence, so how come you got this car?"

"I told you that I tried not to let people talk to me on trains or buses, so I buried my head in the local paper. There's not much in it. After reading it ten times over I was looking through the adverts. This one really amused me. It was something like, 'one lady driver, German car with back door. Diesel, nine years old £6020. Cash only, no cheques, -as seen.'

"So?"

"It was obvious that it was a woman wanting to sell it, it didn't even say what the make or model was. Not many people are going to pay six thousand pounds for a nine-year-old car for cash, so I reckoned it was probably a decent car.

"I came up to Brockenhurst and found a phone in one of the pubs and rang up. I went out to visit Mrs Welcome. She was a lovely old dear, blind as a bat, that was the reason she was giving up driving. When I found out that the dealer would only offer her £6000 in part exchange I realised that it would probably be a good buy. She was really pissed off at the dealer who wouldn't even buy from her if she didn't get another car at the same time though her husband had been using the firm for all their life.

"She wasn't unintelligent, she knew the dealer was going to come back and offer even less, a fraction of what it was worth, so she tried to sell it privately, but the adverts had yielded no responses.

"She showed me a full service history from new. She was asking six thousand, but I insisted on the six thousand and twenty. You'd have thought I'd given a thousand pounds. That was when she showed me how to drive an automatic.

"Just before I was going to leave she said that now she could 'phone the insurance company and cancel it and get some money back. The only thing that worried me was that when she cancelled her insurance, if I passed one of those police cars with the computers it would flash it up that it was uninsured."

"So what did you do?" she asked, knowing that I had something to add.

I told her that I just come back from abroad and she offered that she put it on her insurance. Of course I said I'd pay to pay. I told her that, even so, I was concerned that if I had an accident it would affect her adversely.

"Don't be stupid, what is it to me if I lose my no claims bonus? I'm not going to drive again." There an then she rang up somebody local, the insurance agent, and told her to put my name on as a named driver. That's how things are done around here at any time of the day or night, even at seven o'clock at night.

"Damn me, using her coca-cola bottle specs she got a print off of the addition to the insurance policy with my name on it."

"That's useless, if the police stop you, you haven't got a licence," my friend argued.

But I'd anticipated that, "Sorry did I say my name? I meant the name Stephen McAlpine Just you remember that if we are stopped. He was the only one whose date of birth I knew and could give it to the police without giving it a lot of thought."

"Who the heck is Stephen McAlpine?"

"He was my step brother, a right bastard."

"Yippee!" she yelled in a childish way, punching the air.

We were on the road coming to a junction, "Heh, stop that I must concentrate."

Once on the move again, I took up the tale. "Not only that, but the seller has to sign and send off their part of the documents to the DVLA at Swansea, but I dissuaded her from that, saying I was going off back overseas and might not have time to deal with everything for a few months. She just signed the transfer bit and passed it over to me with a silly grin on her face, telling me she knew they had some of the cheapest insurance rates down there, and for me to keep her name on it as long as we wanted."

"Why are you so pleased with yourself? You have enough money to pay for insurance."

"It's not that, I knew from college that if you buy a car you've got to register it in your own name. and to do that you need proof insurance, the longer I can delay that, the longer we have a so-called legal car on the road to cope with any casual police enquiry."

"What about your licence?"

"It's not a legal requirement to carry your driving licence with you, I just say it's at home, they either give me three days to produce it, or let me go. It's ok if they write me a ticket in Stephen's nam. Of course I insisted on paying Mrs Welcome for her last insurance premium, about two hundred pounds. It was well worth it to me."

"Can I drive, too?"

"No way. If you were stopped there's no way you could try to be Stephen McAlpine."

I'll be old Mrs Welcome." she said with a straight face.

Like a fool, I started to explain, "She's in her eighties and..."

"Got you!" She yelled again at the most inopportune moment just as we were coming to a junction where I wanted to know which road to take to head north.

At Salisbury I'd have like dot have stopped to see Stonehenge being so near, but it was more important we were well away. We kept on along the A and B roads. I was very wary of the high speeds on motorways and decided to steer clear of them.

In Cirencester we stopped. I was mentally exhausted from concentrating on driving and we were both famished.

There was an antique fair "You go in and buy a ring, no two, a gold wedding band and an engagement ring, but don't say it's an engagement ring."

She looked at me, "We're not?"

"No way are we getting married, but with a bit of help on what you wear, you could look older and then we'd be a married couple who no-one would be looking for."

She liked that, bent down to kiss me, and smiled coquettishly, "Yes, dear, and I'll have your meal on when you, come home from work."

It wasn't just her who went off chuckling. I took ages backing into a parking space, knowing that it would be easier to drive out forwards. I needed practice.

I finally fielded her and dragged her away from trying to buy up the whole fair. Are all women the same if they have a couple of quid in their purse and a shop in front of them?

A local pub supplied a half of bitter, but I only had a sip. I needed my faculties about me in driving. We had a great ale and steak pie before we went on further.

Originally, I'd decided on the Brecon Beacons. a real place for serious hill walkers, but that was ruled out looking at the map. The only crossings over the Severn were by motorway.

I was wary of a greater police presence on them so we went further north, up by the River Severn.

At Gloucester* I wanted a better map. We tried not to stop at any big service station with CCTV cameras, but we saw a W.H Smiths open. I went in, got a modern road atlas and a few guide books of Wales and stocked up with more chocolate bars. I perused the front pages and saw nothing about any man found on the rail tracks in Hampshire or Dorset, and surmised he'd survived, better we be on our way.

It was the far side of Hereford we stopped. Bugger this driving for a lark. How do truck drivers do it eight hours a day, every day?

It seemed stupid going back south towards the Brecon Beacons, but I did mention it was pity as there were lots of lovely beaches in Pembrokeshire at places like Tenby.

"Beaches! Let's go to the seaside!"

As if I had any choice in the matter now! Looking at the map I reckoned that we could go straight to Cardigan Bay, that enormous inlet on the coast of Wales. I'd heard there were good beaches down there.

You'd think I'd just mentioned Paris Disney, she went off like mad, but I insisted, "I'm going no further today," despite her pleadings.

Mixing in with holidaymakers sounded OK to me, though it was bit early in the season. The weather had turned out sunny, though, and the car radio had given a good outlook.

That night we booked into bed and breakfast and my planning rebounded on me. We had to share a bed.

There was something different about sharing bed in a bedroom than sharing in a tent and didn't she know it. I refused to be drawn out by frequent 'glimpses' of chest shots that confirmed my companion she wasn't as small there as I had envisaged.

We decided to eat in and weren't we grateful it was a delicious roast, but we had to endure a few embarrassing comments about being on our honeymoon. Charlie had insisted on putting on her two rings, and went overboard in play acting her 'just married' role.

I had to offer an explanation, "She's been waiting years for this day you'd never believe she's twenty next week, the way she behaves like a twelve year old," I announced under her glower. That calmed her down and I put my arm around her, whispering to her to tone it down.

That was better.

Once more she started up, and I proclaimed that I expected food just like this once she got her kitchen in order.

"I'll try my best," she responded in very quiet tones.

That calmed her. Then the nosy parker came up asking all about us, where we were going and what we hoped to be doing on honeymoon.

"We're just travelling around and tomorrow comes my wedding present to my bride, I again put my arm around her, "She's a shopaholic, but I'm restricting her to one shop, Marks*." Taking some money out of my pocket, I counted out six hundred, "That's all, no more."

"To Mr. Obnoxious I added, "That's for clothes, she's going to choose a few smart ones as we're off to London next week" (a lie). "Now if you'll excuse us it's time for bed." I wanted well away.

He started to bluster, "It's not yet eight," when his wife forcibly dragged him away.

I retired upstairs with a giggling little hussy in tow.

"Now we're married can... ?"

I was ready. "What you're thinking is not on the cards. We are only playacting being married. Don't get carried away. You know my criteria. I don't believe in one night stands..."

She never let me finish, "This isn't a one night stand we're..."

"You are under sixteen, that reminds me that you ought to visit a doctor sometime or a health clinic," and I grinned cheekily, "And oh dear me, I forgot to buy any rubbers!" I added sarcastically. "Does that cover it all?"

"Don't you like me?"

Dammit. I liked her more every day even though she was far too young for me.

I just can't remember how I eased out of that predicament without making her really upset. I think it was when I confirmed that she was going out shopping the next day. I reckoned that at M&S she wouldn't get any crappy Micro skirts, hotpants, see-through tee-shirts and the like.

"Don't waste the money," I insisted, "just because you've got that, doesn't mean you have to buy everything now. You might see something else you prefer later on in the next few days. And no, I saw your look when I mentioned London. We are not going to London."

Charlie never was difficult to get up in the morning. That's good when you're out camping. The idea of going shopping had her tracking out of bed down to breakfast by eight o'clock so that by half past we were on our way to the shopping precinct.

I, too, wanted something smart, but casual, to differ from the red anorak character that I had portrayed.