Thoughts on the run
And those were so similar to my feelings as I drove through the early morning light to meet John Aspinall. My head was like a spinning top. I couldn’t believe that things had fouled up so badly. I couldn’t believe that it was Sandra not Veronica who was dead – and that it was I, Lord Lucan, who was on the run. And, although it was only hours after the event, I could hardly comprehend that it was me, me, Lord Lucan, who’d had a hand in it. I was a peer on the run. It was going to make the front pages of every newspaper in the land. Maybe it would be best, easiest, if I were to slot the car into overdrive and slam her into a tree at 100mph.And on I would potter, my mind half-aware of the sign-posts and the mile-markers along the way. I’d peer out of the open window, my face numbing in the spitting rain.
