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As the sun cast its fading yellow rays over the fields of wheat, they shimmered slightly in the breeze, emitting a golden glow across the road. A lone car sped down the country lane, looking far too disheveled for its destination. The woman inside a curious mix of a Barbour jacket practically falling to pieces, a homemade knitted cardigan so old it could house moths, and squeaky clean, brand new Chanel pumps, in a soft cream which should attract every atom of dirt yet were subtly resisting. Camilla had a lightness in her heart which she could attribute to one thing, or rather one person, and just the thought of him made her smile as she turned up the radio and slowed down to take a bend in the road. It felt, miraculously, like the horrors of the last few months were beginning to become the past and she could feel the stress which had consumed her easing its noose hold around her neck. The Minute Waltz blasted from the speakers before Nicolas Parsons’s dulcet tones took to the stage and she laughed, a full bellied laugh which made her tip her head back in appreciation.
Just for a split second.
The car appeared from nowhere, coming straight at her. She saw the whites of the woman’s eyes in the car opposite widen in fear and screamed before the crunch of the impact drowned her out.
The next thing she realised was that she was alive. The tinned laughter from the radio was still sounding and she moved each limb cautiously, checking each part of her was in fact intact. Her leg was sore and there was a bit of blood from somewhere but not much, thankfully. Her shaking hands reached for the door handle and she had to yank it open in order to stagger out. The wheels of the other car were in the air, still spinning round and the horn was sounding. She bent down to look through the smashed windscreen and saw a blonde mass of hair hanging upside down. The woman wasn’t moving.
A bolt of panic ripped through her and she let out a scream which sounded alien to her, scaring her further, causing her feet to take flight. Then she ran. The sort of run one makes when fleeing for one’s life. Her feet pounded against the road, not caring about bumps or pot holes, just flat out desperation to get away. It was only when she finally tripped and her body flung against the tarmac, grazing the skin on her hands, ripping through the material of her trousers to scrape her knees that she stopped, rolling into a ball and collapsing against the verge. Her breath came in short pants and the first hit of pain made her eyes water, although she didn’t recognise what was happening. The panic calming from base survival, allowed her brain to replay the crash over and over and she heard the noises of the brakes and the feel of the pedal against the floor as she desperately tried to stop the car.
The woman!
The whites of her eyes returned to haunt her and then the sight of her hair, turned upside down. She had tried to kill her. She had been sent to kill her and make it look like an accident. A white fog descended over her brain as the impact of the collision occurred again and again. Warm blood tricked down from the wounds of her hands and she started screaming again. They wanted her dead. They’d almost killed her. Were they out looking for her to finish the job? She tried to stand but her knees were so painful and it made her cry, then she staggered down the road. The further away she got, the better. Did they want her removed from him so badly they would do this? So soon after that other car accident. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Were they really after her? Did they think The Prince was with her? Panic constricted her throat as she fumbled through the pain in her hands to find her mobile phone which was in her coat pocket. How had it survived? Then she rang his number, still stumbling down the road, aimlessly.
The words which came from her mouth didn’t sound like they were hers. They were squeaky and breathy simultaneously. Her breathing was so spiked she couldn’t get the words out and when the man wouldn’t get The Prince, she started sobbing hysterically, trying to tell him that they were trying to kill her. She couldn’t listen to the advice to calm down, to breathe, she begged him to put The Prince on the phone, in between sobs of hysteria. She didn’t know where she was. Just put him on. How could she say what had happened? Car crash. Please, please, get Charles. Injured? Maybe. Charles, get Charles please. Alive? Yes. Don’t know. Please, put him on. Put him on the phone!
“Hello Darling.”
Thank God. Thank God. His voice made her start crying again and she sat down at the side of the road as he spoke to her.
“Were you driving on the back road?”
She didn’t know. She just cried.
“Camilla, Darling, were you coming to mine?”
“Yes.” Of course she was coming to his. They must have known. Set out an ambush for her.
“We’re coming to get you. Stay where you are. Darling you’ve had a frightful shock. It must have been an awful accident.”
Accident? It hadn’t occurred to her that it could be an accident. That woman. She’d left her upside down in her car… what if she was dead? The thought panicked her further and her chest erupted into a deeper round of sobs even as he spoke to her calmly, reassured her that help was coming. What if? What if? The words curdled in her mouth as she said them. “What if I killed her?” He couldn’t love her if she’d killed her. She’d ruined everything for them both.
“Jonny is coming to find you. You know Jonny. He’ll keep you safe.”
She didn’t deserve to be kept safe. “What if… what if…”
“He’s almost there. He can see you. Darling, I’m going to go when he gets there.”
“No!”
“Darling, I need Jonny to be able to do his job. I will see you really soon.”
“Charles, don’t leave me.”
“I’m not. See you in a minute, Darling. I love you.”
The phone line clicked signifying the end of the conversation and the tears came in earnest.
She saw Jonny approaching but her heart was so wretched, she couldn’t lift her head to answer him properly. She felt him cleaning the grit from her hands and then wrapping them in a bandage and barely winced at the pain. Then he spoke into his radio and she fell back into quiet sobs.
“Camilla?”
She managed to look at him through teary eyes.
“The woman is fine. She wasn’t even hurt.”
That couldn’t be possible? She saw her hanging upside down, motionless.
“It was just an accident.”
Was it?
“She didn’t know you. She wasn’t trying to target you. She was just shouting at her dogs in the back and took her eye off the road for a second.”
The relief made her cry again, raising her bandages hands to mop her tears. “I’m turning crazy.”
“You’re in shock. We’ve called the doctor. Let me help you to the car. I promised The Prince I’d get you back safely. He’s waiting for you.”
The ride home was a blur. The flash of sunlight through the tall trees. The seatbelt digging into her neck as she hunched over to hide her tears which would not stop falling. The crunch of gravel on his drive and the door being opened for her with a loud creak. A sharp pain from her knees when standing up and a ringing in her ears in the silence of the hallway.
Then him. Her nose against his neck. His arms wrapped tightly around her, squeezing her, kissing her ear, her hair. The smell of home, of safety, as her breathing finally calmed to normal in his arms, wiping the tears from her cheeks on his shirt. Him apologising that the handkerchief wasn’t the cleanest and her not caring, blowing her nose loudly, making him smile. Kissing the stubble of his chin then accepting the telling off for not being careful and the gentle kisses on her bandaged hands before returning to his arms again. Safe.