Free Rachel's Coming Home by Gillian Villiers

glad she had already called the emergency services, clearly this man had no intention of doing so.
    â€˜No need for that,’ said the van driver, just as she had expected.
    â€˜I’ll just get my handbag, I think I’ve got a pen in there,’ said the woman, but she didn’t move. Instead she put her hand against the bonnet of the car and swayed slightly.
    Rachel jumped forward. ‘You need to sit down,’ she said, trying to support the woman and not get tangled in the dogs’ leads. The dogs had been trying to make friends with these strangers but now they seemed more interested in whatever was in the van.
    Rachel pulled them over and got the woman to sit on the grass verge. ‘Put your head between your knees,’ she said. She wasn’t sure if the woman was actually going to faint but better to be safe than sorry.
    She turned back to the man who had closed the door of his van and was glaring at her dogs. ‘I need to get going,’ he said. He indicated the woman with a jerk of his head. ‘Can you get her to move her car?’
    â€˜Not right now,’ said Rachel firmly. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got one of those traffic triangles in your car, have you? You’re stopped a bit close to this corner and we don’t want the next car that comes round to hit you both.’
    â€˜Traffic triangle?’ he said blankly.
    â€˜I have,’ said the woman faintly. ‘It’s in the boot.’
    Rachel went to fetch it, still towing the reluctant dogs behind her. Once she had put the sign out to warn any approaching traffic of a hazard ahead she felt a bit calmer. The road in the other direction was straight, so any vehicles would see them and be able to slow in time.
    â€˜I really need to get going,’ said the man. He was assessing the two cars and Rachel guessed he was trying to see if he could get past if he reversed his. She wouldn’t put it past him to drive away and leave the two of them. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be enough room, but, just in case he managed it, Rachel took a mental note of his number plate.
    â€˜I’ll get my bag in a minute,’ said the woman. Colour was coming back to her face. ‘Sorry about this.’
    â€˜I don’t think you’re the one who needs to be sorry,’ said Rachel, and then was distracted by a volley of barks from the back of the van. ‘You’ve got a dog in there,’ she said to the man, unnecessarily.
    â€˜Aye. So?’
    â€˜Don’t you think you should check it’s all right? You must have had to brake pretty hard.’
    â€˜It’ll be fine,’ he said, making no move to open the door.
    Rachel was standing near the back of the van and peered in through one of the little windows. As far as she was concerned, it was worrying that the dog had only just started to bark. Was it, too, in shock?
    As her eyes adjusted to the gloom she saw a small Westie in the metal dog cage. The dog was shaking and very definitely unhappy. Without another thought she opened the rear door and bent to have a closer look.
    â€˜Hey!’ shouted the man, rushing to her side. ‘I’m not having this. Interfering busybody …’
    The dog quietened as she saw Rachel and put her nose to the bars of the cage. The collie-cross rose on her back paws and greeted her through the bars and Rachel put out her fingers, not quite touching, but showing she was friendly. The little dog was a beauty, well groomed and in excellent condition. Not at all what Rachel would have expected from this unpleasant man.
    â€˜See, she’s fine, leave her be,’ said the man, trying to pull her back so he could close the door.
    â€˜I know that dog,’ said Rachel slowly. She lent closer, trying to see if there was a name tag.
    â€˜No you don’t. That’s my dog.’ The man pulled her roughly this time but Rachel was angry now and shook herself