Death Comes to Dartmoor by Stephanie Austin

Author:Stephanie Austin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2023-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The green lanes of Devon, which spread through our fair county like the veins of a leaf, are not always the easiest things to drive. Pleasant thoroughfares between hedge banks of wild flowers or through glowing green tree tunnels they may be, but many’s the incomer, moving down here from some other part of the country, who suddenly finds himself forced to call on driving skills he’s not had to use in a lifetime of city driving. Basically, if you can’t back your vehicle down two hundred yards of narrow twisting lane and tuck yourself neatly into the nearest narrow passing place, then you’re stuffed. Because at some point, most days, you’ll meet a car coming from the opposite direction and there won’t be room for both vehicles to pass. One of you will have to back. Usually, in this situation, it’s me, even though I know that the other vehicle has passed a passing place only twenty yards behind.

I give way because it’s quicker than sitting there waiting for the other driver. I can recognise the panic in the eyes of a woman who, however big the four-by-four she uses to drive the kids to school, basically can’t use reverse gear, and I do it because it’s no skin off my nose. And I haven’t got the patience to engage in some pathetic battle of wills with some clot who refuses to move because he thinks if he gives way some precious part of his anatomy is going to drop off.

So, on this particular morning, I was resigned to backing for two hundred yards because I could tell at a glance that the driver facing me in the narrow lane belonged to the latter category. I couldn’t see his face too well through the flickering shadows on his sun-flecked windscreen but I could detect the smirk. Something about the dark grey Transporter he drove oozed toxic masculinity. Besides, he had a mate sitting next to him, so I guess he had something to prove.

I was taking the Tribe home after their early morning walk. We’d been for a scramble through the woods. then run after balls in a field that I know isn’t used for livestock. I still had all five of them in the back. They’d settled down peacefully as they always do after a lot of panting and scratching. ‘Right, you lot, we’re going for a ride backwards,’ I warned unnecessarily as I put Van Blanc into reverse. I find it easier to turn to see around the winding corners behind me if I first release my seat belt.

Now, I don’t mind backing, but I really object to the kind of driver who thinks it’s fun to chase me, to ride on my front bumper all the way. Which is exactly what this git was doing. After a hundred yards or so I’d had enough. I slammed on the brakes, forcing him to do likewise, and wound down my window with the intention of sticking my head out and telling the driver exactly what I thought of him.

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