Christina walked out of the church a few moments later. Several women who were waiting to take their places for the next ceremony admired her going-away outfit, even if she didn’t seem to know where she was going.

• • •

The 14.43 pulled into Tunbridge Wells on time, and William was the first person off the train. He joined the little posse awaiting him. An Inspector Thomas stepped forward and introduced himself. ‘I’ve got every exit covered,’ he assured him.

‘Put three or four of your men on board the train, and make sure they check the lavatories. If one of them is occupied, that’s where he’ll be hiding. You’ll also need some officers on the far platform, just in case.’

‘They’re already there, sir.’

‘Good. The moment I spot Faulkner, move in and detain him, but leave me to arrest and caution him.’

‘Understood sir,’ said the Inspector, who barked out some orders while William took up a position by the exit, carefully checking every passenger as they left the station.

Ten minutes later, William and the Inspector were the only people left standing on the platform. William reluctantly allowed the guard to blow his whistle.

As the train departed, William switched on his radio. ‘Put out an all-points alert for a dark blue Mercedes, registration number MF1. The driver will be wearing a chauffeur’s hat.’

That was when William remembered where he’d seen him.

• • •

Miles smiled as he watched the train move out of the station.

When the barrier finally went up – the longest four minutes of his life – he checked his rear-view mirror and was relieved to see the taxi was still parked on the grass verge and there was no sign of its driver. He drove slowly across the tracks, knowing it wouldn’t be long before the train arrived at the next station, by which time he would need to have ditched the car and the chauffeur’s hat. He stuck to quiet country lanes until he spotted an old lady standing at a bus stop looking as if she knew when the next bus was due to arrive.

He parked the car in a layby and tossed the chauffeur’s hat over a hedge, before hurrying across to the bus stop, a briefcase his only luggage.

‘Run out of petrol, have we?’ asked the old lady as a bus came into sight. He didn’t bother to reply.

Once he’d climbed on board, he realized he had no idea where the bus was going. He only hoped it wasn’t back to Limpton.

‘Where to, luv?’ asked the ticket collector.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Sevenoaks,’ she said, a puzzled look on her face.

‘Then it’s Sevenoaks,’ he replied.

‘That’ll be sixty pence,’ she said as she printed out a ticket.

He handed her a five-pound note.

‘Do you have anything smaller, luv?’

‘No. You can keep the change.’

‘Thank you!’ said the ticket collector, as if she had won the pools.

Miles looked cautiously out of the window, in case he had to move quickly. A police car sped past on the other side of the road.