‘Smile!’ she called out over the din.
‘Oh, no,’ Michaela muttered as the woman swayed up to them, camera in hand. ‘Here she comes. Hi, Petra.’
Petra Norrington’s eyes sparkled as she approached the table and sidled up to Simeon. Ben saw Michaela’s face darken.
‘That’s a beautiful dress, Michaela,’ Petra said, her glance still lingering more on Simeon, before shooting discreetly across at Ben. Ben looked away and smiled to himself.
‘Thank you,’ Michaela said, just a little coolly. She introduced Ben as an old friend. Petra’s eyes sparkled some more.
‘And where’s that handsome young devil of a son of yours? Coming home for Christmas?’
‘He’s in Cornwall, with his friend Robbie,’ Michaela said.
‘Oh,’ Petra said, with a look of disdain. ‘That place.’
Simeon looked at Michaela and cocked an eyebrow. ‘I thought he was coming straight home from New Zealand.’
‘I told you he had other plans, darling,’ Michaela reminded him patiently.
‘Cornwall? Back to that derelict old farm? What’s he want to go there for?’
‘Don’t exaggerate,’ Michaela said. ‘It’s just a bit run down, and he enjoys being there with his friends.’
Simeon gave a disapproving grunt.
‘Can I take a pic of you all?’ Petra broke in, brandishing her camera like a gun. ‘It’s for the club’s Christmas album.’
‘If you absolutely must,’ Michaela said coolly.
Ben wasn’t too fond of having his picture taken.
‘Say cheese!’ Petra’s camera flashed. She looked at her watch, pulled a face and excused herself, explaining that she had to get home for some reason to do with someone called Billy. There was a brief round of goodbyes and ‘nice to meet you’ and ‘have a wonderful Christmas if we don’t see each other before’, and then Petra blew kisses at the badminton ladies and breezed out of the restaurant towards her top-of-the-range Volvo estate.
‘I suppose we should be thinking about getting home ourselves,’ Simeon said, and called for the bill.
‘It’s on me,’ Ben said, taking out his wallet.
‘Absolutely not.’
‘It’s the least I can do to repay your hospitality.’
They were still arguing about it when they heard a loud crunching impact from outside.
‘Whoops,’ Michaela said, peering out of the window. ‘I think Petra has just pranged her car. Serves the silly bitch right.’
‘Michaela,’ Simeon hissed at her.
Ben looked. The rear of the Volvo estate was hard up against the front end of the dark blue BMW. Bits of broken glass littered on the ground shone under the floodlights.
As Ben watched, Petra clambered out of her Volvo, clapped a hand over her mouth at the sight of the damage, and disappeared back inside. He heard her voice coming from the bar area: ‘Excuse me, is that your BMW outside? I’m so sorry. I think I’ve just reversed into it.’
A man’s voice muttered, ‘It’s OK. It’s nothing.’
‘I’ve broken your left headlight,’ Petra’s voice said, high-pitched with stress. ‘My fault. So stupid of me. I was in a hurry and I just didn’t … but if we could exchange details, I’ll write to my insurers first thing tom—’
‘Forget it,’ the man interrupted. His voice sounded hard and flat.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You heard me. Forget it.’ He sounded angrier this time.
‘I still need to inform them—’ Petra protested.
‘Are you deaf, woman? I said forget it.’
Meanwhile, the waitress had brought the bill over and Ben was laying cash down on the little saucer in her hand and telling her to keep the change. A shocked hush had fallen over the badminton ladies’ table at the argument between the unseen man in the bar and Petra Norrington, who was now skulking back to her Volvo.
‘Wonder what that was all about,’ Michaela said. ‘He sounded like a right nasty piece of work.’
Simeon wished the badminton ladies good night as they left. By the time the three of them were walking back to their cars, the Volvo had gone.
So had the damaged BMW.
Chapter Ten
‘See you back at the vicarage,’ Simeon called as he climbed behind the wheel of the Lotus. Shutting the door he gave Ben a meaningful look, as if to say, ‘We’ll be able to talk more then’.
Ben fired up Le Crock and shivered in the blast of air from its ineffective heater. Snowclouds had drawn a veil across the stars, and frost twinkled on the grass verges in the beams of their headlights as Ben followed Simeon out of the car park. If the temperature dropped another half a degree, the roads would start to get slick with ice.
However sweetly the Land Rover might be running now that Bertie had worked his wonders on it, it was never going to be a racing car. Ben didn’t have much chance of keeping up with the Lotus, especially with the spirited way Simeon drove it, the low-slung taillights dipping out of sight around every bend and continually forcing Ben to accelerate to close the distance between them. Powering up the long incline on the approach to Little Denton, the Land Rover lost momentum and its revs began to get bogged down. Ben changed down a gear, then another, and gently cursed Simeon for his impetuous behaviour.
Up ahead, the Lotus sped exuberantly over the top of the rise and vanished from view. Ben smiled to himself at his friend’s antics. Even despite whatever it was that was so clearly and deeply troubling Simeon, he was able to enjoy life. Ben envied that quality in his old friend.
Ben was nearing the top of the hill when a halo of white light appeared on the horizon ahead of him and then burst into a dazzling flash that made him blink and avert his eyes. In the same instant, the shape of a big saloon car came speeding over the crest of the hill in the opposite direction, its engine note high and strained as if the driver had his foot pinned aggressively to the floor. The car was just barely under control, all four wheels leaving the road as it sped over the top of the rise and went plummeting down the slope Ben had just driven up.
Ben was blinded for a second. He blinked away the sunspots, peering hard through the Land Rover’s windscreen to regain his bearings on the road. In the quarter-second before he’d had to look away from the dazzling headlights, he’d registered something unusual about the speeding car: one of the twin lamps on the saloon car’s left side wasn’t working – three blinding lights where there should have been four. But in the next moment the car was already roaring off, its taillights receding fast in his rear-view mirror.
‘Idiot,’
