The Buried Circle - Jenni Mills [147]
‘Because my grandmother’s seen them, I’m sure, late at night.’ Lights, buggerin lights. ‘And there’s a farm track that takes you from Yatesbury to Windmill Hill, avoiding all the cottages. The ideal route, if you’re up to no good.’
‘Oh, come on. You heard what Martin said. All those barrows were dug years ago. Victorian vicars took the lot.’
‘He also said that wouldn’t stop them trying–’
The Transit, about fifty metres ahead, stops. Ed jams on the brakes and pulls into a farm gateway. But the van’s already moving again, at walking pace, eventually disappearing up a side road towards the church.
‘There you are. He is lost,’ I say triumphantly, as Ed crunches into gear ready to follow. Before he can do so, headlights appear, coming back towards us. The Transit bowls past.
‘Must’ve turned,’ says Ed, executing a three-point turn in the narrow lane. By the time we catch the van’s taillights again, it’s almost at the junction with the A4.
‘I still think he’s looking for Windmill Hill,’ I say, confident the van will now take the main road and turn off at the Beckhampton roundabout.
But he doesn’t. After circling the roundabout twice, the Transit lurches onto the Devizes road.
‘He’s going home,’ says Ed. ‘And so should we.’
‘No.’ I’m reluctant to give up, so close to confirming there’s a rational explanation for Fran’s mysterious lights. ‘Like you say, plenty of other sites nearby. Do you have a map in the car?’
‘Indy, what exactly do you have in mind once we catch up with him? There’s an Ordnance Survey in the glove compartment.’
‘Can I put the overhead light on?’
‘Then he will see us.’
We’re bowling along an A road at maybe fifty, sixty miles an hour. ‘Actually, Ed, I think I might feel safer if you turned the headlights on now.’
Ed switches the main beam on, with a disappointed grunt. ‘I was enjoying that.’
‘It was dangerous.’
‘So are most things that are fun. I could see perfectly well. People drove without lights in the blackout. And you didn’t answer my question. What are we supposed to do if we catch them digging up a barrow?’
‘We don’t have to do anything. I’m curious, that’s all. My grandmother’s been going on about lights on Windmill Hill, and until now I’ve assumed they weren’t real.’
Ed grunts and puts his foot down, until our headlights pick out the Stargate Earth Project sticker on the Transit’s rear door. Almost immediately, the van’s taillights glow a brighter red, forcing us to brake again.
‘Either he’s sussed us or you’re right, he’s lost…’ We sail past the Transit as it pulls into a recessed gateway.
‘Can we sit and wait for him round the next bend?’
‘You’re in charge of the effing map. But, as far as I can see, there is no bend.’ Ed is grinding his teeth in frustration. ‘This is straight enough to be a bloody Roman road.’
A quarter of a mile on, another field gate appears, and Ed bumps the Land Rover onto the verge. I flip on the map light. ‘Damn. We’ve lost him. Those are barns, where he stopped–he must’ve turned there.’
Ed peers over my shoulder. ‘Oh, you can drive up that track.’
‘It’s marked as a bridlepath.’
‘Well, I’ve driven it with Graham. Twists and turns along the escarpment–fabulous views of the Wansdyke, and plenty of barrows.’ He backs into the gateway.
The absurdity of chasing nighthawks into the middle of nowhere hits me like a bucket of cold water. Beyond the barns, no other buildings are marked on the map for miles. ‘Sorry, Ed. Might as well go home. Should we call the police?’
‘You think they’d be arsed to leave the comfort of Devizes nick to chase a van that might be evil treasure-seekers but alternatively could be two gay gentlemen seeking outdoor fun? No.’ He swings the wheel and accelerates into the road, back towards the barns. ‘We’ve come this far, might as well see it through. We’ll get the van numberplate and report them in the morning.’
My feet are chilling by the second. ‘OK.’ Not my most confident, assertive OK. ‘Umm–keeping well out of sight?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ says Ed, sounding far too enthusiastic for my liking. ‘I’ll do the full commando bit and sneak