A chapter from my book, Dogged Days, describing eventful incidents at home, on the way to the Andrews’ house, and in their home.
It was late September, and getting on for 2 o’clock in the afternoon, and I was driving on the A43 road near Silverstone when suddenly the thought came into my head that I ought to stop at a service station to visit the loo – just in case I encountered traffic hold-ups…Everything is now a blur before and after what happened next.
As I drove up the slope into the service station it struck me how it was unusually empty for such a busy time on a main road. Way up the far end of the parking area, near the motel, was a couple of cars but there were no people. Anyway, I didn’t think too much about it. I parked my car and looked for signs to the toilets. I didn’t see any but in front of me were some double doors leading to the restaurant seating areas. Walking through I was again surprised to notice that there was no one there. At this point a man appeared from out of view carrying a tray full of food and drink. Never taking his eyes of me he sat down at a table facing me and continued to stare. I couldn’t help thinking how unusual he looked and it made me feel a little uneasy. I looked away and tried to find signs for the toilets but there were none so I started to walk around the inside of the building, and still the place was empty except for this peculiar man and me. I began to wonder whether perhaps the toilets were outside so I walked back to the front doors. Now, as I am writing this I’m wondering whether the man was still there at this point because I don’t think he was…anyway, when I reached the front doors I noticed two uniformed youths standing by a fast food counter, a boy and a girl. I approached the lad and asked him where the toilets were. “This way,” he said and led me around the back of the fast food counter; still I could see no signs for the toilets. When I came out the boy and girl were still there, the man with the tray of food had certainly gone but still nobody else. I returned to my car, drove down the slope and back on to the hurly-burly of the main road.
I can recall thinking as I left just how very strange this experience had been. I have never, ever, come across a deserted service station on a busy road, not even at night (and this was lunchtime on a Friday). It was then that I noticed how peculiar I felt and this brought to mind a journey I had made to Long Sutton two years previously. On that occasion I had experienced two hours of missing time. Immediately I looked at the car’s clock but it seemed in order and I didn’t feel anywhere near as mentally dislocated as I had the time before:
We reached North Walsham at 3pm on Thursday 5th August. I stayed for a cuppa and a chat was given directions for the quickest route to Long Sutton and drove away at 3.30pm. I was told it would take just over an hour.
As I motored towards the town of Thorpe Market I made a mental note to stop after I’d cleared Kings Lynn to phone and let Ann know when I would arrive and reminded myself that I must telephone my partner in Australia when I arrived.
The drive was smooth and uneventful – no hold-ups or delays. I was still some way from Kings Lynn on the A148 road when I happened upon a parking area and felt compelled to drive into it, which I did. The crescent-shaped parking area was hidden behind a row of trees and bushes and a medium-size white box-truck was already there. It had a name on the side that I recognised (but afterwards couldn’t remember for a long time). I pulled up behind the truck, rang Ann and told her that I was about 10 miles the other side of Kings Lynn from her and would probably be about 40 minutes. (I gave myself extra time in case I met any delays – which was why I had originally planned to phone her AFTER Kings Lynn.) I hung up and drove back out to the road; as I did so an identical white truck (with the same name) was approaching from my right so I put my foot down and drove on towards Kings Lynn. Once on the highway I realised immediately that I felt somehow disorientated, groggy, queasy… and burnt. I put it down to the several hours of driving I had done on this hot day, even though I had rested at North Walsham. I had been feeling perfectly ok when I drove into the parking place. A little down the road I noted a sign that said Kings Lynn 6 miles.
1: This all occurred on the ancient festival of ‘Lughnasadh’ – a time dedicated to the step-mother of the Celtic lightning hero ‘Lugh’, their ‘St. Michael’.
2: A couple of days later I drove over the bridge again and the “NO ENTRY” signs were not on top of each other (of course). They were on each side of the roads on the pillars.
3: See No Evil: The Moors Murders (2006): www.imdb.com/title/tt0491807
4: Regarding something mentioned in an earlier chapter
I later discovered that the parking area is only 2 or 3 miles from the royal palace of Sandringham and opposite the B1440, which leads to it. Is there a doorway through time near Sandringham? Was my experience somehow connected to this?
When I drove into Kings Lynn I came to a set of traffic lights and had to choose between two lanes: one to turn left and the other to carry straight on. I knew I needed to drive straight on but chose the lane to turn left. I felt extremely confused but did manage to see I was in the wrong lane before I got to the lights so I stopped, indicated to get into the correct lane and someone let me through. It was a little slow driving through the outskirts of Kings Lynn but nothing too tiresome. However I still felt very strange indeed.
Approaching Sutton Bridge I had the strange sensation, almost a mechanical feeling, of my consciousness clicking into another gear – it was like abruptly waking up but not fully. At this point I noticed two red, round signs with white bars across their middle, and one atop the other. I immediately recognised them as ‘NO ENTRY’ signs…and slammed on my brakes – as did every other car behind me. They also (understandably) began to thrash at their horns and (no doubt) deliver streams of
obscenities. Still not fully with it I could see a stream of cars crossing from the other side of the road in the other lane but nothing in front of me on my side. I was so confused. I didn’t know whether I was barred from crossing the bridge but I reasoned that I must be able to because there was nowhere else to go even though the NO ENTRY signs clearly (to me) said I could not. I gingerly drove across. (2)
In less than 10 minutes I was at Ann’s house and she was putting the kettle on. As she did so I remembered that I had to phone my partner so I asked Ann,
“What’s the time, about 5 o’clock…?”
“No”, she said, “It’s 20 to 7!!”
I couldn’t believe it; three hours to drive 70 miles! A journey I was told would take me about one hour!!
Ann said that she’d been worried: “I wondered where you got to. You telephoned me at 4.15. I thought you must have gone for a look around Kings Lynn or something.” I still felt disorientated, queasy and hot. My coordination was hampered and I found everything very difficult to do but gradually during the evening I felt better and better. It wasn’t until the next morning that I realised what I had risked – without any comprehension of the peril at the time.
Something happened to me at that lay-by I’m convinced of it. I lost approximately two hours somewhere. My fuel gauge (oddly) read the same the next morning as it did when I left North Walsham. Unfortunately I didn’t take notice of the mileage but even my cars don’t run on fresh air.
I tried and tried to remember the name on the side of the truck but it took another 22 months…and my recall came in a very strange, and slightly sinister, way. In May 2006, I was watching the TV drama, ‘See No Evil’ about the Moors Murders and in a street scene the white box truck appeared briefly. It was an exact match for the truck in that lay-by near Sandringham; even the name on the side: REPCO. I’d remembered at last! (3)
The reason why the name had been familiar to me was that it is the name of quite a well-known automotive firm in Australia, where I used to live. Apart from on the truck in the television programme I haven’t seen the name here in the UK. I think it’s very odd and the nagging feeling that the REP part of the name on the truck in the lay-by might be short for REPTILIAN doesn’t go away.
I have not yet got to the bottom of what happened in that secluded lay-by in August 2004, but let’s get back to 2006 and I’ve just left the service station somewhere near Silver-stone:
To be continued…