The Villa in Italy: Escape to the Italian sun with this captivating, page-turning mystery. Elizabeth Edmondson
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СКАЧАТЬ fly to Rome, I suppose, but we’d be followed by those damn reporters, and then Richie would know exactly where I was.’

      ‘Let’s go by car,’ said Delia. ‘You didn’t leave your car at Richie’s house, did you? It’s a long way, but we can share the driving, and, according to the lawyers, as long as I’m there by the end of the month, that’s okay.’

      ‘Doesn’t it need a lot of arranging, going abroad with a car? It won’t just be a matter of driving to Dover and nipping on the next ferry, will it? There’s insurance and green cards and all kinds of formalities when you want to take a car across the Channel.’ Jessica knew that if she went near a travel agent or the RAC, the hounds would be on her heels. ‘Oh, Lord,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Why is everything in my life so difficult just now?’

      ‘I have a friend who works at Thomas Cook,’ Delia said. ‘Michael will fix it all up for us. What’s the number of your car?’

      She scribbled down the details. ‘We have to be inconspicuous, or the reporters will be on our tail. How can we drive away unnoticed if the press are camped on your doorstep? They must know your car.’

      ‘They do. I’ve been taking taxis everywhere to try to throw them off the trail. Pity we can’t take a cab to Italy. Do you think I should try to hire a car?’

      ‘To take abroad? I doubt if you could. No. Who looks after your car? Is it a local garage? Can you trust them?’

      ‘Do I trust anyone?’

      ‘You’ll have to, that’s all. Get them to collect the car from your house. If the reporters start nosing round, they can tell them it needs some work because you’re driving north at the weekend.’

      ‘By which time, we can be in France.’

      ‘If Michael gets a move on, yes.’

       FOUR

      ‘Climbing in and out of windows, I ask you,’ Jessica said to Delia, as she clambered in through the kitchen window once more. ‘I just hope that my daily locks up securely tomorrow.’

      ‘Does your daily know where you’re going?’

      ‘She does not. She thinks I’m going north, to my parents’ house. She’s going to look after Harry for me. She knows he fights with Mummy’s dogs, so she won’t wonder why I’m not taking him. Are you packed, is that suitcase all you’re taking?’

      ‘I’m used to travelling light,’ said Delia, attempting to stuff a slip down the side of the case.

      ‘Let me,’ said Jessica. ‘Honestly, with all the travelling you do, why haven’t you learned to pack properly?’

      ‘It all comes out creased, whatever I do.’

      Jessica was unfolding and refolding and tucking everything in with swift and expert hands. ‘There, plenty of room if you pack it right.’ She shut the lid and clicked the catches into place. ‘Ready?’

      ‘Do we really need to use the fire escape? Surely no one will be outside at this time of night?’

      ‘They know I’m staying with you; don’t you think they might be out there in a parked car, with the windows steaming up? We can’t risk it.’

      They manhandled Delia’s suitcase down the metal fire escape, Jessica wincing at every sound they made. The back way from Delia’s flat led into a quiet street of Victorian houses. There was a shimmer of frost in the air, and Delia began to cough.

      ‘Control yourself, or you’ll wake the neighbours, hacking away like that,’ Jessica said.

      ‘Can’t help it. Where did you leave the car?’

      Jessica’s racing-green MG was parked near the corner of a silent street that was inhabited only by a tabby cat slinking home after a night on the tiles. They squeezed Delia’s suitcase in beside Jessica’s case. Jessica got into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition. ‘There’s a road atlas in the glove compartment,’ she said. ‘Are we heading for Dover?’

      ‘No, we’re going to Lydd airfield, in Kent. I’ll map-read for you. We’re flying the car over to Le Touquet. Expensive, but it’s worth it. Michael suggested it. The papers have stringers at the ports, but they won’t bother with a small airfield like that. And they won’t be expecting you to flee the country, not if they think you’re going up to Yorkshire.’

       FIVE

      Dawn was breaking as a weary Delia and Jessica drove the last few miles to the airport. It was hardly more than a landing field, with a man so clearly ex-RAF in charge that Jessica said in an appalled whisper to Delia, ‘Let’s hope he didn’t know Richie.’

      The plane was waiting on the runway, heavy-bellied and stubby-winged. A laconic mechanic took the key and ran the MG up the ramp and into the dark space inside. He clattered back down the ramp and directed them to some rickety steps set against the side of the plane.

      ‘Hardly luxury travel,’ Delia said, as she stooped to enter the plane. They sat down on one of the two benches that were placed on either side of the fuselage. Opposite them, a man in a grey suit was reading a newspaper, and beside him were a pair of sleepy-eyed Frenchmen who said good morning; one was smoking a French cigarette that filled the narrow space with strong, foreign fumes.

      The plane lumbered along the runway and heaved itself into the air. The sound of the engines was too loud for any conversation; Delia twisted herself round and looked out of the small window. She could see the whirring propeller, and, looking down, the crests of white peaking on grey waves. They flew low across the Channel, so low that, as they approached the French coast and flew over a fishing boat straggling back to harbour, Delia could see the face of the man at the tiller.

      The flight only took half an hour, and by mid-morning, refreshed with black, bitter coffee, they had left Le Touquet and were motoring along straight French roads towards Paris. A slight mist lingered in the air, and it was no warmer than England, but to Delia it felt as though she’d landed in a new world.

      ‘Oh, the relief of getting away,’ Jessica said. ‘I’m so grateful to you. I hope you meant it about the work.’

      ‘I did. You know me, I’m a pro. If I couldn’t spare the time, I’d have said so, even though you are my oldest friend.’

      Jessica looked over her shoulder. Behind them the road stretched away between two neat lines of plane trees; the only other person visible was a cyclist in a beret, pedalling slowly and deliberately.

      ‘Do stop looking round,’ said Delia. ‘We haven’t been followed—we’d know by now if we had. Or do you think Giles Slattery will be after us, disguised as a Frenchman on a bicycle?’

      ‘You may joke, but you’ve no idea how persistent those ghastly reporters can be.’

      ‘Did you tell anyone you were coming to France?’

      ‘Only СКАЧАТЬ