The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2341 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“If Tom and Jacquie can watch the kids, I suggest we take a trip to the Spinnaker.” Simon’s suggestion was as good as anything I could offer. Jacquie was to organise the servings of the meal David had cooked while Simon and I sat in the Mondeo eating a bag of chips. The big BMW was in the car park of the restaurant and when I’d walked past with the hood of my coat up, they were both in the restaurant sitting at a table and Stella was gazing into his face. Oh boy, how are we going to tell her that Roger the dodger is a crook? Or worse. Why is he toting a gun round with him?

None of it made sense. As far as I knew, we had finished with the Russians, then out of the blue, according to Stella, they saw High St as a weak link and attacked us. I was struggling with the idea that they had some intention of buying us cheap while trying to play the innocent card. But just what were they afraid of? Was Mitchell there to kill any of us or just one or two?

I decided, possibly erroneously, that Roger wasn’t there to lay waste all of us. If he was he’d find it particularly difficult to get everyone, especially Trish. Then, it would be just our luck to have Trish walk blithely into something and end up getting popped by Mitchell.

Thinking of this didn’t assist my appetite which had been much affected by the tensions which pervaded everything. I let Simon finish the chips while I wiped my hands in a wet wipe. The way he wolfed them down made me feel a little embarrassed—how could I teach Trish or Danni to eat delicately if he stuffed like someone force-feeding an industrial shredder.

We stayed in the Ford waiting to see what happened. Nothing of any consequence seemed to occur except Stella and Mitchell having a nice meal and apparently enjoying themselves. Unfortunately, we couldn’t see the car and inside the restaurant at the same time and neither of us fancied standing about in the cold watching one or the other, so every half an hour we checked they were still in the restaurant.

Two hours later and my feet were getting cold. Simon did switch the engine on now and again to defrost the screen and warm us up. The engine was running when we saw them emerge from the rear of the Italian and walk to his car. Stella looked towards us but I don’t think she recognised the car. Had it been one of the Jags, she might have done, especially my white one. Simon followed a discreet distance behind the big German car. It wasn’t heading towards our house, but then it was only ten o’clock, although I was yawning and wishing for my bed.

“Where d’you think they’re going?” asked Si.

“I’ve no idea, a pub somewhere?”

We followed for a couple of miles and they headed up on to the downs which could mean they were going to have a passion session or he was going to kill her away from witnesses. My stomach flipped at the thought of either. What if he shagged her first and then killed her—nah, he’d leave DNA behind—unless he used a condom—oh hell. They turned off down a narrow track and we drove past in case they realised we were following. Simon pulled in a few yards further on and then quickly turned the car pulling up just beyond the turning but facing towards the turning.

As soon as he stopped the car I jumped out. “Where d’you think you’re going?” he hissed at me.

“I need to see what’s going on.”

“What if they’re—you know?”

“I’ll come straight back.”

“That track could go on for half a mile.”

“Doubt it.”

“You know it do you?”

“No, but it would have been wider.”

“How d’you work that out?”

“They’d need passing places for lorries or tractors to pass.”

“That’s a point...”

“While we’re talking he could be killing her and dumping her body in the bushes.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, you stay here and be ready if I come a running, be ready to collect me.”

“What if he drives out but you don’t—you know?”

“Follow him.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“Simon, shut up and wait here.” Before he could say or do anything I trotted across the road and down the track. It was quite dark after the lights of the car and although I had small torch in my bag, it would warn them I was there, so I walked quickly along the edge of the path keeping to the bushes to minimise the chance of me being seen.

I saw the car about two hundred yards ahead becoming quite steamed up and it was then that the rain began. Someone up there must really love me—not. I had an umbrella with me but I really didn’t want to stand about half the night in the pouring rain while Mitchell gave Stella a good seeing to. Apart from the weather, the thought of being a voyeur turned my stomach and I went back to Simon and clambered into the car.

“He hasn’t murdered her yet then?”

“Not yet unless he’s um sh...ing her to death.”

“You’re so romantic, Cathy.”

I was about to lean against him for warmth as much as anything else, having removed my damp coat, when headlights emerged from the track, but it wasn’t our love birds.

“How many cars are down there?” he asked me.

“I only saw the one.”

“Oh great, no wonder you can’t find dormice if you can’t find limos in the dark.” I wondered if it was our two I’d stood and watched for that few moments—what if it wasn’t, and I don’t mean the privacy thing.

The next thing I knew Simon was driving across the road and down the track despite my protests. We spotted Mitchell’s car and it’s fogged up windows and Simon managed to park the Mondeo in a space under some trees from where we could watch without being directly in their view, presumably the space the departing car had left.

The place looked like the remains of a quarry with bushes and scrub consisting of bramble and buddleia with occasionally taller bushes or trees of birch and hazel. Had we not been busy, it would have been nice to explore the site to review the ecology of it and how nature was reclaiming it from man’s despoilment. It would have been far more interesting than following Stella around. I asked Simon to lock the car and then cuddled into him.

After about an hour it seemed our lovers’ passion abated and we heard the big car’s engine fire into life and as soon as they went past Simon followed them without any lights on. We followed them home and had to travel beyond the drive so I could run back and dash in before Stella went in. I only just made it, with Tom wanting to know where I’d been. “Ye cudda phoned ye ken.”

I apologised saying that we were trying to keep Stella safe and so far we’d succeeded—we hoped.