Through the shimmering veil, the valley trees magically neared and flowered hedges began to grace his progress, growing steadily higher as the road gradually began a deferential descent towards the aristocratic river. And even though he had known what to expect when rounding the remembered bend in the road, the first sighting of his marvellous river glinting through the gap in the hedgerow had been enough to make him put his foot on the brake. Which is how the collision happened. It had not been all that much - the slightest of judders told him that; but it was the tinkle of broken glass that made him swear. Goddamit, the stupidity of it, the inconvenience he was going to be put to! He was relieved nonetheless to see the little motorbike upright, with its rider sitting astride it still. 'You okay? Are you hurt?' Throwing the questions rapidly over his shoulder, he rummaged in the boot for the warning triangle although, as far as he could see, no other traffic was bearing down on them from across the wide expanse of the heath. The pubs were still open and most people with any sense would be sheltering in the shade. Ignoring the motor cyclist - only a youth by the size of him and frozen in a state of shock - Michael conscientiously set up the triangle in the middle of the bend before striding purposefully back and crouching to examine the broken brake light. 'Oh dear, oh dear!'he lamented, resolved to get his strike in first, before shaking his head and sighing loudly to add to the effect. 'Now see what you've gone and done!' The seemingly inanimate tableau of black-clad rider and machine, until now as inert as a carving in granite, erupted. 'What a stupid place to park! In the middle of a winding road! And just round a corner!' The unexpected sound of a female voice caught Michael off guard. He whirled in surprise, lost his balance and fell over on to one knee, where he remained for an astonished second or two. Then, scrambling hurriedly to his feet, he peered intently through the dust on the visor of the brown and yellow helmet and managed to make out a pair of dark eyes staring belligerently back at him. 'What's the matter?' the obscure apparition inquired sarcastically. 'Never seen a girl on a motorbike before?' 'Well, actually, no,' Michael replied, mindful to take his time in answering. 'Not really, I mean. In the distance, maybe. But not up close - not like this. Male female, you all look the same covered up like that. And in this sun! How do you survive in there? Come to think of it, are you sure you're all right?' The girl removed her wasp-like helmet, shook out her dark hair and glared at him balefully. Michael pressed on solicitously. 'You're in shock. Here, let me help get you off...' But when he went to take hold of the handlebar, the girl wrathfully brushed his hand aside. 'If I wanted to get off,' she declared crossly, 'I could manage by myself!' Adeptly kickstarting the machine into life, she revved the two-stroke engine until its deafening crackle resounded across the countryside. 'Well, you're lucky!' She allowed the noise to diminish slightly. 'Very lucky! You don't appear to have damaged my bike.' 'Gosh, you've got a nerve!' Michael retorted. 'You weren't exactly dawdling. I never even saw you come up on me. I'm just amazed you were able to stop at all. Reckless driving - no doubt about it! It's your responsibility to avoid what's in front of you. Haven't you ever read the highway code? And look, it's not as if you can't see everything for miles around here. It's like an open book.' He wondered why the dark haired girl was making no attempt to interrupt him - he'd been expecting her to. Only a moment or two earlier she had appeared more than capable of holding her own in this kind of spat. Shrugging, he went on remorselessly. 'Looks like you never even saw me. You must have been asleep.' 'You!' Her indignation finally came good and boiled over. 'What right have you to criticize me! We've never even met. You don't know me! We've never met, have we? You don't know anything about me! Do you?' Reluctantly, Michael shook his head. 'Well then! Of course you don't. But if you did...' She paused, her face flushed. 'Anyway, you want details! Very well, we'll exchange details. And if you really are going to try and blame me, I shan't even bother to argue. It's only a piece of glass. I'll let you have - oh, GBP5 should cover it.' A fiver! Nearer twenty - even thirty! Ah well, he deserved it for having stopped so suddenly. It was mostly his fault. Even if the sun had been shining relentlessly, hotly into the afternoon, he simply hadn't been concentrating on his driving. He sighed, making the girl glance at him curiously. 'A fiver, eh?' He pursed his lips to give the impression he was considering the offer. You really can't excuse the lack of concentration, old boy! All those years when staying alive had often depended on being able to think fast on the move...to be thrown so easily by the first sighting of that high hedge...just where it would be, just where the flat high land begins to fall away...and there, just ahead, was the lane he'd been seeking, the narrow winding little shortcut...and the need to look...in that initial, wondrous glimpse into the enchanted valley of his youth - how his spirits had been magically uplifted...the long-interrupted courtship of the river and the wooded hills instantly renewed - and he had rejoiced in the reassurance that his pilgrimage was justified. Revenge or no. But what was to be done about this dark-eyed Cornish beauty who'd mangled his brake light?