The Nearly Dearly Departed Club

THE NEARLY DEARLY DEPARTED CLUB BY ANTHONY GRACE Copyright © 2023 by Anthony Grace. The right of Anthony Grace to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express, written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The characters in this book are entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. CONTENTS TITLE PAGE COPYRIGHT ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS CHAPTER ONE – THE END CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE – THE SITUATION CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE – DAY ONE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE CHAPTER THIRTY CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE – DAY TWO CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE CHAPTER FORTY CHAPTER FORTY-ONE CHAPTER FORTY-TWO CHAPTER FORTY-THREE CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE CHAPTER FORTY-SIX CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN – DAY THREE CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT CHAPTER FORTY-NINE CHAPTER FIFTY CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR – DAY FOUR CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE CHAPTER SIXTY CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE CHAPTER SEVENTY CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO – THE AFTERMATH CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR THE ENDCHAPTER ONE Lucas Thorne was about to crash. He could see it on his dashboard. The flickering dial on the speedometer. Forty … fifty … sixty miles per hour in a residential area. Throw in the winding roads that refused to straighten. The angry horns as he cut up fellow drivers or swerved to avoid them. The cheers and jeers from boozy revellers enjoying a Saturday night out in North London. It wasn’t their fault; it was an inbuilt reaction. An unavoidable habit. Who didn’t look and then look again when a police car flew past at over twice the legal speed limit? And then there was the rain. The constant bloody rain. Lashing down on the windscreen. Obscuring his vision. Thanks for that. You’re welcome. Yes, Lucas was well aware that he could crash at any moment. And yet he also knew that slowing down just wasn’t an option. Not until he had done his job. What he was paid to do. No, it was more than that. His duty. You can’t just let them get away with it. The them in question was a burnt orange Ford Focus that had shot three red lights in quick succession before accelerating hard when the driver had clocked the flashing lights in his rear-view mirror. A swift check back at base had revealed that the car’s owner was a Mr Percy Sharman, aged seventy-eight, retired Headteacher, no points on his record. Percy Sharman wasn’t driving now, though. The kid that had raced past Lucas was closer to seventeen than seventy-eight. Up until a few minutes ago the car hadn’t been reported stolen, but it would be. Probably first thing tomorrow morning when Mr Sharman climbed out of bed and opened his curtains. By then the Focus would be written off or sold on. Either way, it wouldn’t be heading back to its owner. Unless … Lucas touched the accelerator and the Skoda sped up. The police had used a Skoda as their patrol car of choice ever since the turn of the Millennium, give or take the odd year or three. It was safe and reliable and, perhaps most important of all, good value for money. Whatever their reasons, Lucas couldn’t have cared less. He could drive anything. Like the Skoda, he was safe and reliable. Always in control. He hadn’t had a crash in over ten years and, despite what his head told him, he had no wish to start now. Especially not for some spotty little teen in fake gold and poor imitation knock offs. You can’t just let them get away with it. Sixty-five miles per hour … The Focus took a sharp left, barely slowing as it swung around the corner. Lucas followed accordingly. The Skoda juddered slightly, but that was all. Nothing to fret about. Lucas wiped the sweat from his forehead before it dripped into his eyes. The kid in the stolen car knew the roads well. A local then. Born and raised on the streets of Edmonton. Lucas could call on some knowledge, but it clearly wasn’t enough. Whilst the kid let the steering wheel run freely through his fingers, Lucas had to hold on tight and concentrate. Take in his surroundings. Focus on the Focus. The kid had edged away from him. Not by much, but enough to get Lucas thinking. Dare he go any faster? The decision was taken out of his hands when he spotted something in the middle of the road. It had appeared from nowhere, wandering into the traffic without care or consideration. Hood up, head down, hunched over, Lucas had no idea if it was a man or a woman. Not that it mattered. His first response was instinctive. Protect the public. Without missing a beat, he veered out of his lane and tried to mount the pavement. It was a heavy collision. Hitting the kerb at an awkward angle, the tyres screeched and the car shuddered and shook as it skidded on the wet concrete. Lucas tensed up, fearing the worst. The impact was powerful enough to tip the Skoda onto its side. It began to roll. Once … twice … three times across the pavement before it smashed into a lamppost. When it finally ground to a halt it was on its roof. The Focus, meanwhile, raced off into the distance. For the