He realised with some relief and greater gratitude, why she had told him not to check in the rear. He slowed his own breathing, wiped the sheen of sweat from his hands onto his trouser leg. He felt light headed, looked around to see if he could pull in, or turn; but they were on the motorway and he was hemmed in on all sides.

As they inched forward, he could see the blue flickering of the police lights illuminating the trees edging the roadway. He guessed there must be more than one vehicle for the flickering seemed to overlap at times, and separate at others, working to its own, free rhythm.

‘It’ll be fine,’ Karen was saying. ‘We’re moving forward, which means they’re not stopping anyone. Not for long anyway. Have you your licence?’

‘It’s Northern Irish,’ Tony said. ‘I’m guaranteed to be pulled in. Maybe we should get out and run.’

‘How far do you think either of us would get? We know nothing. That’s it. Not our car, not our whatever is in there.’

As they neared the police lights, Tony realised that the two lanes of traffic were being funnelled into one with traffic cones. A policeman stood at the point where they merged, his high-vis jacket gleaming in the approaching cars’ headlights.

Tony thought he would vomit by the time they’d reached where the officer stood. He had a torch in one hand, its top covered with a red cone. As they drew abreast him, he held out the torch, indicating that they should stop.

Winding down the window, the cold night air caught him by surprise, taking the breath from him.

‘Evening,’ he muttered.

‘Wait a minute, sir,’ the policeman said, glancing down at him, then across at Karen.

He walked away from the car and watched further up the roadway, where Tony could now see more blue lights pulsing into life.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘An accident,’ the policeman said, his hand outstretched, telling them to remain where they were. ‘That’s you now, sir,’ he said, waving him on. ‘Drive safely.’

They crawled past the scene a few hundred yards later. Two ambulances had just arrived, having clearly driven the wrong way up the motorway, to get to the site of the crash. A car had been upended, its underbelly exposed to the fluorescent glare of the motorway lights. The person inside remained strapped, upside down, while the paramedics lay on the ground talking to them through the opened window.

Despite the sight of the accident, Tony felt elated at having successfully made it through the checkpoint. He glanced at Karen who shared his smile. Without thinking, he reached across and took her hand. She held his for a moment, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He felt his excitement build at his very centre, felt himself buzz with it.

‘Thank fuck,’ he muttered.

They parked the car back in the churchyard below Bellgrove, right where they had collected it some hours earlier. After he had locked it up, Tony felt compelled once more to check the boot, to see what exactly they had been transporting past a police cordon.