The car’s driver comes out of the shop, and Roy decides he’ll have a quick word, and waits for him to get close. But when the driver notices him, he falters and stands still. Behind him, Roy hears the Ford’s passenger door open and slam shut, and the beep as the locks are activated from the key-fob. Then, to Roy’s surprise, the driver walks away from him and out of the filling station, followed by his red-headed passenger, who’s running to catch up.

Roy shouts after them.

‘Oi! ’Scuse me, pal!’ But neither man looks back. Instead, they increase their pace, and reach the road. ‘Oi! Hold on a minute!’

Roy’s shouting draws the attention of the other customers. From inside the shop, the staff peer at him through the window, hoping they’re not going to be dealing with some nutter.

Now the two men have taken off, Roy knows something’s not right. He hurries round the back of the Focus and shouts across to the cashiers.

‘There’s someone locked in this car! They’ve got someone locked in the boot! Trevor! Trevor, get out here!’

He raps his knuckles on the boot-lid.

‘Hello! Are you OK?’ The pounding from inside the Ford becomes frantic. ‘Don’t worry, pal, we’ll get you out!’

Trevor moves quickly for Trevor, and comes to stand beside Roy. A young man leaves a blue Clio, and runs to join them.

‘They’ve legged it,’ he says. ‘I saw which way they went. Shall I go after them?’

Roy hesitates.

‘Someone should,’ he says. The young man is about the same age as his son, and keen for excitement. ‘But don’t you go taking them on. Just see if you can work out where they’re headed.’

The young man runs back to his car and drives away. A cashier appears in the shop doorway, and when Roy shouts to her to call the police, she hurries back inside and picks up a phone, talking animatedly to her colleagues.

The pounding from inside the car is becoming intermittent, as if whoever’s in there is getting tired. The staff all come outside, and join Roy, Trevor and the other customers by the car’s back end.

‘We should jemmy it,’ someone says to Trevor. ‘Haven’t you got a crowbar in your van?’

‘Fetch the crowbar, Trevor,’ says Roy. But when Trevor brings the tool, Roy’s reluctant.

‘It might just be some prank,’ he says. ‘We should wait for the police.’

‘It might be a long wait,’ says one of the cashiers. ‘Last time we rang them, it was the best part of two hours.’

Roy calls out to whoever’s in the boot.

‘All right, pal. We’re just going to wait for the coppers, then we’ll have you out.’