Strangely, her senses vividly registered the smells and sounds all around. In rapid succession, she reviewed her options. Fight to the end but then who would look after the kids. Scream the place down - she believed him when he said no-one would care. It seemed incomprehensible that she would give in to him but the knife and his willingness to use it was real

Objectively, she realised, it was no contest and sobbing loudly, Sarah's legs suddenly buckled under her and she slowly slid down the wall to the floor. Her knees draw tightly against her chest, foetus like, revealed flashes of white thigh in the meagre light.

The youth watched the disintegration. His self satisfaction was growing and this was reflected in his wolfish grin. He was supremely confident now. He would have her right there on the stairs. He was macho and strong. Balancing on his toes like a star, he poked the knife forward again to consolidate his position and brought it to rest between her breasts pushing at the thread of her buttons.

"Don't rip my clothes," Sarah said, dully. "You win."

He was still on his guard. She was giving in too easily. She'd have to do more to convince him this time.

Sniffing loudly, Sarah reached to the sides of her hips and lowered the elastic of her underwear a few inches raising her hips to invite him to complete the process. She saw the bulge in his trousers expand in expectation.

"Move an inch and you get this in your stomach." The long knife steadily traced its way down to her navel. He reached his left hand forward to finish undressing her.

His goal was never achieved. With the force of an uncoiled spring, Sarah's feet braced against his chest and lashed out violently to send him spinning off-balance against the window's grimy expanse.

The glass bowed and cracked. Fear bulged in his tiny eyes as he fought briefly to recover his balance, lost the contest and with the glass shattering around him, fell through. His scream was cut short by the thudding sound of his body coming to land.

Adjusting her clothes as she ran, Sarah took the remaining stairs at high speed. Her short shuddering breathes hardly gave her oxygen enough to push past the clutter of old prams and scooters barring her way to escape. At last she was out and thankfully she found an enclosed alleyway running down the side to the back of the house.

A glance each way revealed a gate in the high fencing dangling on feeble hinges. Mercifully it was half open. Another alley led down the back of the houses took her to another road similarly lined with decrepit terraces.

She breathed in deeply. A deep sigh of relief mixed with a determination to keep going. The sharp click of her heels echoed against the walls of the houses. No regrets. His fate was small justice for the harm he'd intended. Staying around to explain was pointless. She didn't see how he could survive the fall. It was better not to think of it. If he was dead and gone, then good riddance. Society would be better for it. If all the directors could have been shoved through the window with him, she would only have paused to applaud.

She didn't see the man who slipped around the corner from the front of the house to follow her or the other man that climbed out of his elegant sports car and fell into step fifty yards further behind. In her shell-shocked mood, she probably wouldn't have cared.



The underground system with its rattling and scraping came and went in a haze. Only when she had settled herself into a corner seat on the overland train from Victoria to Woking, did she allow herself a final sigh of relief. Things had certainly not gone according to plan but hopefully there was now nothing to connect her with the youth.

A visit to the toilet freshened her face and as the train rattled through the suburbs of West London, she slowly began to relax and stop trembling.



Line after line of houses in neat rows, unfolded past her window, some red brick, mostly grey pebbledash. Televisions were already lit in many, though it was still mid afternoon. Each house, a self contained family home of dreams, aspirations, loves and desires. Yet to the passing outsider, they seemed sad, commonplace and dreary.

Sarah's eye moved to the occupants of the train. They were no better. A few tired business suits and an elderly couple snoozed away their journey on the other side.

Standing at the end of the compartment was a pasty-faced man wearing light flannels. He looked away as she glanced in his direction, and as people do, she also looked away and back to the rolling townscape outside.

She couldn't identify why but she felt her nervousness intensifying again.