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By Helen O'Shea The idea was crazy, it was ridiculous. But as soon as she saw the dark green car behind her, she knew she was being followed. "Why?" she asked herself. She had not stolen anything. "At least, not money," a duplicitous voice in her head whispered. "Only love. And other people's dreams." Impatiently she brushed away the tears that blurred the lonely, winding road ahead. She had had no chance but to climb into her battered red MG and escape. From Danny, and from the trap she had let herself fall into. "Again," murmured the treacherous inner voice. This time had been no different from the others. She had stayed too long this time, that was all. "Remember," she told herself fiercely: "Move on more often now, not less." It was becoming harder to leave; easier to stay. "Why not stay?" The betraying whisper again. "Because," she replied silently. "Because " She had no answer. Damn it! She was tired. She was tired and she had let it go on for too long. And she ought to be hungry. Nearly seven o'clock in then evening, and she hadn't eaten since a late breakfast with Danny of scrambled eggs, toast, coffee, and recriminations. But she had escaped and was heading for then brash, noisy seaside town of her childhood holidays. It would absorb her without even noticing at this time of year, a promise in then air that summer was not far away. She would be able to find work, as a shop assistant or a waitress. She was good at smiling at people, telling them what they wanted to hear. And probably before long, her smile would be returned for longer than politeness demanded, and she would find herself looking into another pair of eyes. It would feel as if tiny fish were swimming through her veins, and it would all begin again. But not yet. Not yet. A sudden flash of red and green distracted her from her thoughts. "Good God," she said aloud. On every childhood journey, she had seen the same gaudy neon sign. But surely the café had closed down years ago, now that most travellers favoured the motorway over this road, with its impossible twists on which only a maniac would try to overtake Keeping her speed the same, she glanced quickly in the mirror. The dark green car was still following at a safe distance. She stamped on the brake pedal, and veered off to the left without signalling. As she drove over the crunching gravel of the café forecourt, then green car went past without slowing. The café door opened on a single protesting hinge onto a sloppy, chip scented warmth. There were only two customers, a couple sitting by the smeared window in a silence that made then matching rings on their left hands redundant. After only a few minutes the driver of the green car followed her in. She knew it was him. She was a s sure as she had been for the last half hour that he was following her. As sure as she had been when she had to go away from Danny. Casually she looked up to observe him. He wore a shabby grey suit and white shirt. No tie. She looked away at once, pretending to be fascinated by the ice cream menu. He ordered a meal and sat down out of her sight, on the other side of a colourful screen showing various combinations of chips and parts of dead animals. As then remaining daylight faded outside, she picked at a meal that looked like fish and chips and tasted of grey cotton wool. As she crunched over the gravel towards then MG she heard the door of the café creak again in complaint. The man in the grey suit had followed her out. Quickly she filled herself into the driving seat and fastened her seat belt. She revved the engine and reversed sharply out of the space, then aimed the care at the road. With the merest of glances to the right she urged the MG into action. The MG was no longer in its youth and was no match for the potency of then dark green car. But she was smiling as she hurried through the gears. She had the ultimate advantage While behind her, the man in the grey suit would check crossroads carefully for approaching headlights, while he would slow down as the road twisted, she would sail through junctions with a cursory glance, and laugh as she almost lost control on bends. She was going to escape at all costs. As the MG careered around another curve in the road, she slotted in a new cassette. "You can't run away for ever"; the words filled then car. But there's nothing wrong with getting a good head start." She looked in the rear view mirror. No headlights behind. Ahead ? The End |
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'Looking at Karl's emailed photo made Alice feel she was being unfaithful to her husband all over again' in Forgotten Flame More Romances, thrill and mysteries ... all available online from Rob Hopcott FREE . |