All he had to do was knock off the indicator light and drive away. The line of oncoming cars preventing him making the right turn through the open gates and into the curved driveway, showed no sign of breaking. Behind, the road was still clear with no following car to be confused by a change of signal. He stared at the high, wrought-iron gates, their intricate design dating them to an older period, and the tall birch and elm trees which formed a screen behind the redbrick wall, obscuring any view of the building. All he had to do was knock off the indicator and drive on past – that’s all he had to do. Its noise grew louder, blocking out the sound of the radio, steady and precise like the rising beat of his heart. He stared at the faces of the passing drivers, but it felt as if he was invisible to them and no one returned his glance, or turned their eyes towards him. And then suddenly the road was clear, the noise of the indicator greater than his senses could bear, and he was driving through the open gates.
