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(aka Bike) Part 1473 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad
All Rights Reserved. |
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I drove home via the university and spoke to someone in the IT department, he copied the disc and promised to phone me if he could read the number. I thanked him, then on spec visited the local Jaguar garage for an estimate of the damage–the bloke suggested it would be two new doors plus some re-spraying. He suggested the cost would be up to a couple of thousand. I had no idea if that was good or bad, but I needed Si to be home before I could get the name of our insurance company. Back to Si again and my execution probably in front of the kids to make an example.
By the time I got home, I was in quite a state–even Stella noticed, so it must have been bad. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I went to Tesco and while I was shopping some old biddy rammed the car and skedaddled.”
“Deliberately?”
“I managed to get the video, looks more as if she was too senile to do it deliberately, just generally incapable.”
“Have you reported it to the cops?”
“Going to once I’ve had a cuppa.”
She put the kettle on and went to look at it. “Simon will be pleased.”
“But I didn’t do it, I have the film to prove it,” I protested and burst into tears. She hugged me. “I didn’t do anything,” I sobbed.
“So you said, he’s still gonna be cross–want me to distract him?”
“No, I need to get it over and done.”
Stella made some tea and after drinking it I phoned the police and reported the accident. As no one was injured they weren’t very interested. I did point out the woman had committed two offences, damaging my car and failing to report an accident. I also unkindly suggested she might be a danger on the road. They gave me an incident number for the insurance company once I gave my name–it seemed they became much more cooperative–can’t think why, the circumstances hadn’t changed. However, unless I could supply them with the name or number of the other driver they couldn’t do much more.
“How many ancient red Toyota’s are there in the Portsmouth area?”
“Loads, we need more information than that, we hardly have the manpower to search every street in the hope that we find one with white paint on its bumper.”
“That’s okay, I’ll have my children doing that every night until we find her, it’s okay if I arm them, isn’t it?”
“I hope you’re being facetious, Lady Cameron. Look I know it’s a total pain and you’re quite correct in that the other driver broke at least two laws but finding her isn’t a priority we have at the moment.”
I rang off, then dialled Simon. He was in a meeting and his secretary told me he’d call me back. He did an hour later.
“What’s the problem, babes, I was told you sounded a bit upset–the children are okay?”
“I hope so, no it’s about the car.”
“Which one–not the Jag–God, you haven’t crashed it already?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Somebody ran into you?”
“Yes,” I said and burst into tears.
“You okay?”
I nodded, which was a bit pointless, then realised what I’d done, “Yes, yes I’m okay.”
“Phew, you had me worried for a moment.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t speak for a second.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I was in a supermarket and some old biddy bashed the side of the car and then drove off without giving her name or anything.”
“How d’you know it was an old lady?”
“Some bloke saw her and came and told me. He didn’t see her number–and I managed to persuade the supermarket to give me a copy of their CCTV.”
“Doesn’t that show it–the number?”
“No, I’ve left a copy at the university, see if their IT guy can make it out.”
“A copy, you have another?”
“Yes, why?”
“I’ll get our IT department to have a look at it.”
“Okay–you’re not mad with me?”
“Why should I be?”
“I’ve only had the car a day.”
“It happens–especially to you, at least this one wasn’t a write-off.”
“I did ask the Jaguar garage for a quote, they told me it needed two new doors.”
“Okay, get some photos of it before it gets dark, I’ll speak to a chap I know, he’s brilliant at repairing bodywork–met him through Stella.”
“He’s a friend of Stella?”
“No, he repaired Stella’s cars, about three times a year if I remember correctly. I helped him get a business loan to expand his workshop–he’ll do a better job than the Jaguar garage–they charge over the top.”
“Thank you, darling for being so understanding.”
“Hey you’re my wife aren’t you?”
“That’s what the paper says.”
“Well then, so stop snivelling and make me a nice dinner.”
“What would you like?”
“To eat or to do afterwards?”
“To eat–you have a one track mind.”
“So, I’m a normal hot-blooded male.”
“I had noticed.”
“By the tooth marks on the bed post.”
“What?”
“Teeth marks, see, I live with this incredible sexy woman but she keeps me incredibly frustrated.”
“You lying toad, you had–we had–um–last night.”
“Did we? You know my short term memory is getting worse–they say it can be a symptom of sexual frustration.”
“Ha ha very funny.”
“I thought so–gotta go, lunch meeting.”
“Don’t you eat too much if you want me to cook something nice for dinner.”
“Don’t worry, I can handle two cooked meals.”
“It’s not you handling them that worries me, it’s you eating them.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re getting too big.”
“Rubbish.”
“Si, it takes you five minutes to walk past a mirror.”
“Yeah, well if you’ve got it flaunt it–so, I’m good looking.”
“I meant your stomach takes five minutes to go past.”
“Huh, I think I might change my mind about the car.”
“Getting your little man to look at it?”
“No, being cross when I get home.”
“Fine–I’ll see you later–much later.”
“What?”
I put the phone down.
I did start a nice meal for him, a chicken casserole which I placed in the slow oven once it got up to temperature, it would have about five hours to cook.
I was doing some ironing when the doorbell went. I answered the door to a very nice looking older man–about fiftyish.
“Lady Cameron?”
“Yes,” I replied wondering who he was.
“Is that the car?” he pointed to my Jaguar.
“Yes,” I followed him to it. He made notes and took digital photos.
“Tell your husband I’ll have it in next week.”
“Tell him who? I’m sorry I don’t know who you are.”
“He didn’t tell you?” I shook my head. “Bert Darnley, I do bodywork repairs–done quite a few for your ’ubby a couple or three years ago.”
“For him or his sister?”
“’im I think, he ’ad a Saab, nice car but he was always bumping it or scratching it.”
“I believe he did have a Saab.”
“I’ll give you a ring before we come to fetch it–it’ll take about three days to do.”
“Will it need new doors?”
“Nah, we can pull those dents out–takes a while so does the painting–nice car the XFR.”
“Yes it is.”
“Be in touch,” he waved and left. I went back to my ironing and considered what I’d say to Simon. Stella came through a bit later.
“Someone at the door–earlier?”
“Yeah, Bert Darnley.”
“Who’s he when he’s at home?”
“Simon told me he used to repair your car bodywork.”
“What for, it was Si who was always scratching or bumping his, not me.”
“I had a feeling that’s what he meant.”
“Who?”
“Mr Darnley.”