That made things easier. Four more sackfuls filled the coffin completely, with some gravel left over. I replaced the lid, found the screws in the toolbox, located them in their holes and tightened them up. I tapped on the partition and called out, ‘Ready.’ Minutes later Ellie stopped in a deserted lay-by and I got out, leaving the toolbox against the partition to keep it closed, and joined her in the front.

     She looked keenly at me. ‘Feeling better now?’

     ‘I suppose so.’

     ‘Want to wait here a while?’

     I paused for a moment. ‘No. We must get on, put some distance between us and his place. We can’t be sure nobody saw you. Let’s get moving – the quicker we get to Scotland the better.’

     Our journey began in earnest. We were soon on the M40, and Ellie put her foot down, while being careful not to go too fast. It wasn’t easy to judge without the speedometer, but disconnecting it had been unavoidable. Cope was required to keep a log of the mileage; the short distances our activities had taken us up to then would not have been noticed, but an extra 900 miles or so in a weekend would cause raised eyebrows at the printing works.

     Two hours later she stopped at a service area. We took turns to obey our calls  of nature, not wanting to leave the van unattended. We ate take-away meals in our seats, enjoying the companionship of being together on the road. I told her that, despite our grim cargo, I was beginning to feel we were a couple at last.

     ‘Me too,’ she responded. ‘It’s funny, but I didn’t feel this way when we went up to Mum and Dad’s at Christmas. Of course, you hadn’t proposed to me then.’

     ‘Ellie,’ I said, ‘have you thought about the… our… future at all? I don’t mean in that silly, drippy way we did, about living in the country, but about us?’

     ‘Of course I have. And I don’t think there’s anything silly about wanting to live in the country. We ought to move – I’ll be glad to get away from that boring dump. The further the better really. Just so long as I’m with you.’