“Oh Dolly, none of this is your fault. Of course you don’t really know the background do you?”
“Well only the bits I’ve overheard here and there. I know you left your husband but not much more than that.”
“Okay, the least I can do is fill you in on what it’s all about. Have you got a few minutes?”
“Of course.”…
Seated side by side on the sofa Dolly listened without comment as Pauline relayed the whole sorry tale and her vague assumptions yet again.
“So that’s all you know? This man who attacked you is the one from the ditch?”
“Yes, I don’t even know his name. I know he was involved with some other people but I have no idea who they are.”
“And you didn’t see anyone else by the accident.”
“No, it was quiet, the middle of the day and when I left home I just walked up the hill away from the village. Even the dog wasn’t out at the farm.”
Pauline let out a gasp and grabbed at Dolly’s hand. “There was a car!”
“A car?”
“I’ve just remembered! I didn’t ever think about it until now! As I left the house I had to get out of the way of a car, it was speeding through the village. I remember now thinking it must be a stranger because he was going far too fast for the road.”
“Do you think it might be important?”
“Well, I don’t know but they must have come down the same road as the motorbike and it was very soon after that when I found the accident. I wonder if perhaps I should tell the police anyway. I’ll call them later, just in case.”
“For now though can I go over and bring some things back from the cottage and then tomorrow I’ll move all my stuff here.”
“Oh I don’t think you should, it’s not safe, or let me come with you at least. I’m waiting for a delivery for the shop but, maybe later.”
“I think it’s okay Dolly, the place has been swarming with police and…” she shrugged, “I think he’s dead, if it was the bloke from the cave you’re worried about. I would like to go, it’ll help me to settle – I really think it will.”
“Well, I don’t like it, not at all. It scares me. Call me if you’re worried about anything, the house phone comes straight through to here and the shop. Oh I wish you wouldn’t go.”
“Don’t worry it’ll be okay. I’ll just bring my computer… oh no, not that; the police have it. Oh well, what I need for now and then tomorrow. I’ll go and get the rest of my clothes and give you a hand to tidy up.”
“Indeed you will not, in spite of everything you are still my guest and it’s not your job to clean the place.”
The air was fresh and as Pauline made her way across the wet grass she glanced towards the restless ocean and the rocks in the distance. She felt no fear as her eyes skimmed the dark shapes that are only rocks. It was the stranger who had caused her pain. She would not let man’s evil impact on her delight at this lovely place. The many years as an abused wife had taught her that it was easier to overcome hardship if it was stowed in a box in your mind that could be pushed away, disallowed to spread and distort those things that were inherently beautiful; a summer sky, a sailing cloud or the sun sparkling on rippling waves.
There were marks on the cottage door where the police had brushed powder, looking for fingerprints and evidence of the intrusion. Pauline slipped the key into the lock and stepped into the dark hallway. Residual moisture dripped from the old gutters tinkling on cobbles and pathways outside and looking through the old kitchen and beyond to the shimmering garden she was tempted through and out into the small space.
She had expected to sense recent disturbance, but what she had not expected was the tingle up her spine and the ticklish feel of goose pimples on her arms and the absolute conviction that she was not alone. She spun around to look back towards the open door and caught a glimpse of a dark shadow on the dappled path.
Chapter 32
Was it a figure? A movement in the trees? Or just her overwrought mind? Her heart pounded.
The small gate to the beach was but a few steps away: if she ran now she may be able to reach the dunes and then try to make it back into the farm house. To do that she would need to turn her back on the house, the path and the dark shadows of the garden. She was petrified and for long seconds couldn’t drag her eyes away from the open door and the blind windows of the kitchen. Her mouth had dried and she gulped, desperate for moisture. Slowly, slowly she took one step backwards, then another. She dragged her feet along the old stones her hands stretched behind her groping for the gate.
Another small step, then another. She could turn now and run but what if she tripped? Was the gate open? She couldn’t remember. If she did get past the stone wall she knew the sand was soft and full of sharp grass: it would be hard to run.
She could scream.
If she screamed Dolly might hear her, and Jim: they would come running, but would it be too late because whoever was in the house would hear her too and they were nearer.
Was there someone in the house?
Again she tried to peer into the dim rooms. The curtains in the little kitchen blew gently in a soft breeze, the door swung a little on the well oiled hinges. Tree limbs creaked high overhead and a crow in the rookery shouted to the setting sun. The harsh noise caused her to start and a small noise, not quite a scream but more than a gasp, escaped her lips. She pressed her hand to her mouth.
It seemed that her heart would burst from her chest and her knees wobbled now, threatening to let her down just when it was essential that she was swift and sure.
She must move.
Was there anyone there?
The shout when she made it shocked her: she hadn’t known she was going to speak until the words escaped her trembling lips. “Who is it? Who’s there?”
The door moved again, slowly drawing inward and a figure appeared now, unmistakable. He was tall, dressed in jeans and a blue sweatshirt. His head was bald and his lower arms were covered with a pattern of tattoos. He stepped forward and held up his hands.
The rugged face was stern, blue eyes unblinking and he moved towards her. She turned from him. She would make for the gate and take her chances on the beach. Maybe there were walkers, someone to help her. She spun and as she did the intruder strode across the grass and reached his large hand towards her. He grabbed her upper arm, with strong, hard fingers. She saw the muscles in his arms flex as he held her, fighting against the pull of her body.
She twisted and brought up her hand to slap at his face, to try and scratch him. At the same time she lifted her foot. Instead of pulling back now she moved forward, tried to judge the distance so that when she brought her knee up into his groin it would have all her strength behind it.
He saw the move. He knew what it meant and spun her around now with her back to him and his arm round her chest, above her breasts and he dragged her back to hold her tightly against his chest and belly.
“Don’t scream, you don’t need to scream. It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Tears streamed from her eyes and as she opened her mouth to yell for help he clamped his fingers tightly across her jaw.
“Don’t scream, you really don’t need to be afraid. I won’t hurt you. Keep calm.”
She felt the heat from him through her T shirt, the warmth of his arm across her upper body. She felt the tickle of breath in her ear as he leaned in close to speak again in his calm voice. “Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you. I’m going to move my hand now. Nod your head, tell me you understand and that you won’t yell.”