John Francome - Declared Dead

I had no idea how long I had been followed. At first I had assumed that the car about a quarter of a mile behind was just another late traveller returning home and I hadn't paid any further attention. I had been perfectly content to cruise along listening to a Tina Turner tape and pondering my next moves. I would probably not even have noticed the car if I hadn't overshot the turning to Stow on the Wold and had to reverse twenty yards to take it. My pursuer had been far enough behind not to make the same error, but I had no doubt that he was also taken by surprise by my late manoeuvre and his brakes screeched as he jammed them on to make the turning. From then on he kept his distance, accelerating and slowing down to match my own changes of pace. He was somehow always just that one bend behind and each time I thought I had shaken him off, the lights of his car would reappear in my mirror.

I told myself not to panic, that if I drove speedily yet carefully I would reach Ralph's without being caught. I would then hoot my horn as I came up the drive, waking everybody up, but at least scaring the tail away. My only problem was that there were still fifteen miles or so left to go, through winding countryside, and I was also in no doubt that I had the less powerful engine. Combe Hardy was about two miles ahead and I remembered that there was a pub there. It was well after closing time, although there might just be a chance that the landlord was still up. I decided that if there was a light on as I approached, I would take a late turn into the car park, run from the car screaming rape and bang on the door for help. I would probably be taken for a neurotic woman who was imagining things but that was better than being murdered or whatever other fate was being planned for me.

I thought of Freddie and Tom and whether I would ever see them again. I looked in the mirror. He was still there all right. I assumed he was on his own, although without street lighting and any cars coming in the opposite direction to illuminate the road behind, I couldn't be sure. I accelerated as we reached Combe Hardy, hoping to give the impression that I was going to drive straight through. I looked in desperation for a light, any light, in the pub ahead. Alas, like the rest of the village, it was in darkness. I kept my foot on the accelerator and sped on into the night and the long desolate stretch of road across the hills which led to the next village of Charlton Bywater. He now drew even closer, almost flirting with my rear bumper, his headlights blinding me with their glare. All I could do was to move over to the centre of the road to stop him overtaking.

My attention was so consumed with these antics that J nearly hit the oncoming car. Appearing at sixty miles an hour out of the darkness, it swerved to avoid me and then repeated the manoeuvre just in time to avoid colliding with my shadow. For one brief moment, as the car flashed past, its lights caught the face of my would-be assailant, yet all I could make out was the silhouette of the driver crouched low behind the wheel. For a second I lost my concentration and he seized his chance. Forcing his way past, he cut in sharply ahead of me. Instinctively, I swerved to avoid running into him, steering the car off the road and to my horror down the hill to my left. As I somersaulted I tucked my head into my chest as if I had fallen from a horse and was rolling over to avoid the other runners. I held my breath and waited for the end.

I hit the tree just as the engine cut out and came to rest upside down. I couldn't believe it: I was alive. Drops of blood trickled down my face and into my hair, but I didn't care. The important thing was I had survived. I tried my fingers. They all moved. I had forgotten about my legs. Without them I could never ride again. The front of the car had caved in on impact and the dashboard and steering wheel had been shoved forward to within a few inches of me. I wiggled my toes inside my shoes and kicked out with my legs. I thanked God I wasn't paralysed. My back ached but it wasn't so painful that I couldn't shift it slowly side to side. The stock-taking was going well.

I think it was the sound of a twig snapping that told me someone was out there. It had never occurred to me that he would come back. I wanted to scream for help, yet there was no point. I was in the middle of nowhere, in the dead of night, and trapped upside down in the front seat of a wrecked car. It would be the final irony if both Edward and I met our deaths in a motor car. I regretted not joining the RAC.

I could make out the sound of footsteps more clearly now, moving slowly and deliberately around the back of the car. He was certainly taking his time, no doubt waiting to see if I was still alive. I wondered whether he would go away if he thought I was dead. Or maybe he wanted to take no chances and be absolutely certain. A well-aimed blow to the forehead would almost certainly be put down to the crash. I could just see it in the papers: TRAGIC DEATH CAUSED BY JOCKEY'S CARELESS DRIVING. That other oncoming car would be able to say how fast I had been travelling and I would go down as just another statistic in the year's toll of fatal road accidents.

I looked around the car. Just below me on the floor – or was it the roof? – lay a bottle of cologne spray which I kept in the glove compartment. It must have fallen out as we came down the hill. I stretched out the fingers of my left hand and grabbed it. I was just in time before a torch shone through the window of the passenger seat. I kept my eyes closed and remained motionless. I could catch the filter of light as the torch was carried round to my side of the car. I held my breath. A hand rattled the handle but to no avail. The door had jammed tight. Now I was locked in and he was locked out. Not for long.

There was a short pause and then pieces of glass flew into my face as he smashed the window. I kept my eyes closed, praying and hoping that he would first examine me to see if I was dead. I could sense a hand feeling for the door handle beside me and then tugging at it and wrenching the door open. It was then I moved. Releasing the safety belt with my right hand I rolled out onto the grass, and at the same time squirted the spray upwards in the direction of the impenetrable face behind the torch. And then I ran as fast as my aching legs could take me. I didn't look round to see if I was being followed – I was once cautioned by the stewards for doing that at Towcester when I nearly got caught on the line – and headed I knew not where. Twenty minutes later, and utterly exhausted, I found myself in the outbuildings of a farm and, deciding that I must have shaken him off, collapsed exhausted on a bed of straw in the nearest barn.

The Friesian cow who came to take my breakfast order did not seem in the least perplexed by my presence and soon wandered away to continue with her own munching. I was anxious not to be asked 'any questions by the farmer who had unwittingly provided me with hospitality and made at once for the nearest village. After a two-mile walk, I found a telephone box and called Ralph. I hadn't been missed. When I had failed to show up to ride out the first lot, they had assumed I had stayed on overnight at Amy's and was motoring down first thing. I told Ralph what had happened and his first question was whether I had reported it to the police.

'Not yet,' I replied, 'and I'm not sure I will. They won't believe me and all that will happen is I'll be charged with driving without due care and attention.'

'We'll see about that. If someone really tried to kill you last night it's a serious matter and the police have to investigate.'

'Ralph, there's no if about it. Whoever was driving that car last night also killed Edward, I'm certain of it.'

'Hold on, Victoria. You're almost certainly still in a state of shock and shouldn't jump to conclusions. Wait there and I'll be over in, say, twenty-five minutes. Where did you say the car was again?'