beyond it I'd have thought.'
'You're right,' he whispered back. 'Say nothing.'
He was sitting upright, staring fixedly through the windscreen beyond Warden. In the full-beam headlights he stared at black pools on the lane, frowned, called out to Warden asking him to pull up.
'We could do with stretching our legs, he said.
Paula followed Tweed as he walked up the lane in the blaze of the headlights. He felt in his pocket, tore out a sheet of paper, bent down over the largest black pool, wiped the sheet forcefully over the mark, sniffed it. Paula couldn't grasp what had caught his attention. He straightened up.
'Diesel oil. Now look over here.'
Beyond the pools of black he bent down again, Paula switched on her pocket torch. By its light, beyond the car's headlight beams, she could see the impression of a very wide tyre. She took out her camera, pressed the button several times. Tweed then walked to the far side of the lane, near the ditch which bordered it. Another impression of a wide tyre. Paula photographed that as Tweed looked up.
'Got a tape measure?'
'You're lucky. I carry a sewing kit in my bag.'
'I want to measure the width between the tyre marks.'
They completed the measurement between them, Paula holding one end, Tweed the other. He stood up and made a note in his small book.
'A very large vehicle has driven up this lane to nowhere,' he explained. 'Some wheelbase. I'm curious. Let's see where this route takes us to.'
Returning to the car, he asked Warden to continue along this route at a medium speed. Characteristically Warden didn't ask any questions. They drove on through countryside with no habitations anywhere. Tweed was now sitting very erect, leaning forward as he gazed at the road ahead.
At intervals he spotted more wheel tracks, more patches of oil. At a junction where the lane divided he asked Warden to pause, to swing a few feet towards the left-hand lane. In the headlights he saw another set of wheel tracks.
'Turn left here, please.'
Paula was puzzled as they drove mile after mile through open country. A signpost pointed to Bideford to the right. As they passed it she whispered to Tweed.
'We're one hell of a long way from Abbey Grange. Soon we'll hit the Bristol Channel.'
'I know. And still we see the wheel tracks now and again. A huge truck of some sort travelled this way,' he said, keeping his voice down.
'I'm sorry,' Warden said eventually as they descended a steep lane with a view of the sea, a rough sea glowing in the moonlight. 'I missed a turning somewhere. We're miles off course.'
'Don't worry,' Tweed assured him cheerfully. 'After our experience on Dartmoor this is a relief, it's waking me up.'
He continued to guide Warden, following the trail of oil stains and wheel tracks. Then they were driving east along the coast, the road so close to the sea that they could see huge waves crashing against the wall, threatening to flood the highway. They had left the world of lanes and moved along a made-up road. Soon the view above them to their right was dramatic.
'I know this area from walking years ago,' Tweed remarked.
The massive cliff climbed sheer from the road, then sloped back. Paula pressed her face against the window, gazed up. Perched on the slope was a huge boulder, which appeared to move slightly. It had to be her imagination. Tweed pointed to it.
'Toppling Rock, they call it.'
'Well let's hope it doesn't topple now,' she said as Tweed asked Warden to stop the car. He did so and put on his hazard lights.
'It won't,' Tweed assured her. 'It's been like that for over a hundred years. Above it you can see Harmer's Head. It is thought that time has made that mountain unstable. Again, I imagine they've been saying that for a hundred years. Inside that monster at the top is a cave. I've sat inside it.'
'Rather you than me,' she commented.
'Drive on slowly,' Tweed ordered.
Warden crawled. The road had dropped and sea water was receding from sections of it. They were passing a
'You're right,' he whispered back. 'Say nothing.'
He was sitting upright, staring fixedly through the windscreen beyond Warden. In the full-beam headlights he stared at black pools on the lane, frowned, called out to Warden asking him to pull up.
'We could do with stretching our legs, he said.
Paula followed Tweed as he walked up the lane in the blaze of the headlights. He felt in his pocket, tore out a sheet of paper, bent down over the largest black pool, wiped the sheet forcefully over the mark, sniffed it. Paula couldn't grasp what had caught his attention. He straightened up.
'Diesel oil. Now look over here.'
Beyond the pools of black he bent down again, Paula switched on her pocket torch. By its light, beyond the car's headlight beams, she could see the impression of a very wide tyre. She took out her camera, pressed the button several times. Tweed then walked to the far side of the lane, near the ditch which bordered it. Another impression of a wide tyre. Paula photographed that as Tweed looked up.
'Got a tape measure?'
'You're lucky. I carry a sewing kit in my bag.'
'I want to measure the width between the tyre marks.'
They completed the measurement between them, Paula holding one end, Tweed the other. He stood up and made a note in his small book.
'A very large vehicle has driven up this lane to nowhere,' he explained. 'Some wheelbase. I'm curious. Let's see where this route takes us to.'
Returning to the car, he asked Warden to continue along this route at a medium speed. Characteristically Warden didn't ask any questions. They drove on through countryside with no habitations anywhere. Tweed was now sitting very erect, leaning forward as he gazed at the road ahead.
At intervals he spotted more wheel tracks, more patches of oil. At a junction where the lane divided he asked Warden to pause, to swing a few feet towards the left-hand lane. In the headlights he saw another set of wheel tracks.
'Turn left here, please.'
Paula was puzzled as they drove mile after mile through open country. A signpost pointed to Bideford to the right. As they passed it she whispered to Tweed.
'We're one hell of a long way from Abbey Grange. Soon we'll hit the Bristol Channel.'
'I know. And still we see the wheel tracks now and again. A huge truck of some sort travelled this way,' he said, keeping his voice down.
'I'm sorry,' Warden said eventually as they descended a steep lane with a view of the sea, a rough sea glowing in the moonlight. 'I missed a turning somewhere. We're miles off course.'
'Don't worry,' Tweed assured him cheerfully. 'After our experience on Dartmoor this is a relief, it's waking me up.'
He continued to guide Warden, following the trail of oil stains and wheel tracks. Then they were driving east along the coast, the road so close to the sea that they could see huge waves crashing against the wall, threatening to flood the highway. They had left the world of lanes and moved along a made-up road. Soon the view above them to their right was dramatic.
'I know this area from walking years ago,' Tweed remarked.
The massive cliff climbed sheer from the road, then sloped back. Paula pressed her face against the window, gazed up. Perched on the slope was a huge boulder, which appeared to move slightly. It had to be her imagination. Tweed pointed to it.
'Toppling Rock, they call it.'
'Well let's hope it doesn't topple now,' she said as Tweed asked Warden to stop the car. He did so and put on his hazard lights.
'It won't,' Tweed assured her. 'It's been like that for over a hundred years. Above it you can see Harmer's Head. It is thought that time has made that mountain unstable. Again, I imagine they've been saying that for a hundred years. Inside that monster at the top is a cave. I've sat inside it.'
'Rather you than me,' she commented.
'Drive on slowly,' Tweed ordered.
Warden crawled. The road had dropped and sea water was receding from sections of it. They were passing a
Similar Books
