Run Rabbit Run is now available on Kindle!
You can buy it in the UK or in America, and I daresay other countries as well. I'll keep you posted about other websites and devices.
How about a little sneaky peek? Oh, go on then.
Four in the morning and I was painting over the number plate of my boyfriend’s car with black nail varnish while I hid in a camera blindspot in a car park in Dover for the early crossing to Calais. A 3 turned to an 8, a P turned to an R. Job done, I sprayed the whole thing with hairspray to fool the cameras, and got back into the car to wait, hat pulled down low over my face.Want more? For only £1.99 of your British pounds or $3.13 of your American dollars, you can have it all.
In the ladies’ room on the ferry, I nabbed a shower cubicle and, wincing, cut off my long blonde ponytail. Masses of hair fell into the shower tray, clogging the drain. I poked it all down with my hands and rubbed some cheap brown dye into what was left hanging around my ears.
The result was not pretty.
The bar area of the ferry looked like a refugee camp, tired families and lone backpackers setting out their own little camps, marked with rucksacks and coats and unfeasibly large pushchairs. I glanced longingly at the bar, and had it not been for the long drive ahead of me I’d seriously have considered beer for breakfast.
Little cameras blinked everywhere. Trying not to be noticed, I found an ATM and withdrew everything in my bank account as Euros, then went out on deck, huddled into my coat, and mainlined black coffee.
An hour later I drove off the ferry and onto the wrong side of the road. French lorries beeping madly at me, I swung the Vectra back into the right-hand lane and followed signs towards Paris. I didn’t want to go to Paris, but it was a start.
Twelve hours after that, having stopped once for coffee and refuelling, eyes blurry with exhaustion, I saw a sign for a campsite in a small seaside town on the Riviera and pulled in. I drove up to one of the bright courier tents belonging to those big luxury camping companies and asked if they had any pitches available. They did. I paid in cash, registered with a fake name, and hauled the car around to a small plot with a big tent on it.
I had a pillow and sleeping bag, a handful of personal possessions, clothes and toiletries. The lot of it was dumped on the floor next to the camp bed, onto which I fell, exhausted and near tears.
You would not believe the trouble I’m in.
Let me know what you think...!