CHAPTER 5
THE INITIAL EUPHORIA of our escape gave way to fear as I realised we had to get as far away as possible so Antonio couldn’t find us. I’d driven through the night, chugging along quiet roads in the early hours without a clue where I was going, knowing only that I needed to put miles between the horsebox and Cannes.
And when I thought through my options, I knew I couldn’t just run home to England. The first thing Antonio would do when he found I’d escaped would be to station people at the road and ferry ports, watching for me. I’d never beat them to Calais or Caen, and sneaking past in a twenty-six-tonne lorry would be nigh on impossible, especially one branded all over with Antonio’s company logo and our team information.
Although that could play out in my favour if he tried to
