Chapter 4
Loathe to head off home in case Avril and Alan are lurking nearby waiting for a chance to rescue me, I cycle slowly around the perimeter of the Manor, ever conscious of the possibility that Danny Marsden might have his spy cameras trained on me. At last, satisfied but a little deflated that my two fearless comrades are nowhere around, I head for home. But after a mile or so of furious pedalling my head begins to pound so badly its making me dizzy and sick and at last I can bear it no longer and veer off towards the Hospital four miles away. By the time I get there, I’m pretty close to collapse.
Luckily the Casualty Department is quiet at this late hour and I’m seen by the duty doctor straight away. After an x ray and a couple of wonderfully strong painkillers my head quietens down and I sit in the waiting area for the result. After a further half an hour the Doctor comes out to tell me the good news that there’s nothing broken and all I need is a good night’s rest.
My intention to finally follow some good advice is short lived though as I spot two policemen walk through the double glass doors and head for the reception desk. Instinctively I know they’ve come for me and a young nurse pointing in my direction soon confirms it.
“Miss Catherine Matthews?”
“Yes.”
“We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Sure,” I reply easily, maintaining a casual air. “Fire away.”
“Down at the station if you don’t mind miss?”
I swallow down my embarrassment as the staff and what few patients there are watch with undisguised curiosity as the officers lead me outside to their car, parked close to the hospital porch, complete with flashing blue lights, oblivious to my blushes.
“What’s this about?” I ask from the back seat as the young officer nosed the car out of the main gate. The older man half turns in his seat. “You were trespassing tonight in the grounds of Fulton Manor is that correct?”
A mixture of rage and fear courses through me as I thought about the creep reporting me out of spite. I nod glumly and sink back into the seat and spend the rest of the journey silently cursing Danny Marsden for his two-faced behaviour. He hadn’t even the guts to call the law while I was with him. He had taken me out of the game all right and in the most underhand way possible.
When we arrive at the local police station I’m shown where to sit in the charge room and the sergeant spoke. “Now Miss Matthews, we want to hear what you were doing up at the Manor tonight and mind we get no lies. We know you went there with two of your friends. A traffic patrol nabbed them as they were being chased over fields by two large dogs and they were taken to the main station in Begley.”
“In a right state they were too.” Giggled the young officer. “The girl was covered in...”
“All right Morris, you can spare us the gory details.” The Sergeant snaps.
The urge to grin is hard to resist as a mental picture of Avril threshing about in a dark muddy field flashes through my mind, but I smother it quickly. The sergeant looks the type who will stand no nonsense and the last thing I need right now is more trouble. Preventing my Mother from hearing about my latest catastrophe will be hard enough. The man leant forward, hard and uncompromising.
“You may as well give us your version of the story.” He says. “It’s all right; your friends have already told us what you went up there for.”
I realise there’s little point in lying and I outline the story as the Sergeant scribbles down every word.
“So you cut through the fence with bolt croppers did you?” he repeats slowly and deliberately, as if eagerly anticipating a full charge sheet. When the interview is over, they lock me in a cell. It’s not as bad as those on some telly shows but it’s grim enough and I fret through the next hour, trying to amuse myself by reading the scrawl etched into every flat surface, certain in the knowledge that my Mother will be summoned and there will be a terrible scene followed by one of those gut-wrenching silences that had become commonplace in my life these days. A little while later I hear raised voices from the charge room. It’s impossible to hear what’s being said but one voice is instantly recognisable as Danny Marsden’s. What was he doing here? Probably insisting on the death penalty if I knew anything about him.
I cringe at the thought of the satisfaction he’ll get out of this moment. To see me formally charged with breaking and entering, causing criminal damage and God knows what else. To a man like him, it will be a real victory and I bury my face in my hands. Only the sudden metallic clang as the door bolt slides back prevents me from weeping. The young Policeman leads me back outside and I see Danny sitting on the same long bench I occupied earlier. His face remains as hard and impassive as always, revealing nothing at all. He’s wearing the grey suit and tie he’d worn earlier at the meeting, every inch the respectable business man again. The sight of him is bad enough, but it’s nothing compared with the utter relief that sweeps through me at not seeing my Mother. The sergeant is still flushed from the argument and his face looks like a sliced beetroot. He finally gets himself under enough control to speak.
“It’s your lucky day my lass.” He growls, his lips compressed into thin white lines. “Mr Marsden has very kindly, but in my opinion unwisely, decided not to press charges against you or your two friends. Personally, I’d really give you the works. That’s what you youngsters need these days. A good fright and a bit of public humiliation would do you the world of good. I was about to call your Mother too but Mr Marsden has insisted that won’t be necessary and that he will escort you home.”
Danny clears his throat a little too loudly to sound normal.
“Ah yes, there is one stipulation however.” The sergeant continues. “Mr Marsden wants you to assist in finding his dogs and the fence surrounding the Manor’s grounds has to be repaired. Are you in agreement with that?”
“Yes,” I reply, hardly able to speak for what feels like an invisible band tightening around my throat. How on earth am I going to find Danny’s dogs? They’ve had a good two hours head-start for one thing. The sergeant’s overlong caution followed and seems to go on forever until at last he announces I’m free to leave.
Outside the station, the temperature has dropped to an icy chill but I don’t mind. Just being able to breathe in the good clean air again is such a relief after the interesting stink coming from the little steel toilet in the cell and I take in great lungs full of it until I feel Danny’s eyes boring into me with undisguised curiosity. He leads the way to his car and holds open the door for me without a word. I know it’s a bad time to start complaining about his slimy behaviour, at least until we’re clear of the station and I keep my thoughts occupied with how safe my bike’s likely to be chained to the railings outside the hospital.
We head away through the village on course for Fulton Manor, silent apart from his deep rhythmic breathing until I can bear the uneasy atmosphere no longer.
“That wasn’t a very nice thing to do was it Danny?”
He looks astonished and glares angrily. “What are you talking about now?” He snaps. “I come and save your bacon from the wrath of Sergeant Bacchus back there and have to get into an argument with the stupid oaf in the process and now you tell me it wasn’t a very nice thing to do.”
“You mean you didn’t report us all to the police?”
“Of course I didn’t.” He growls. “If I’d wanted to do that, I’d have done it while you were stuck down in the pit wouldn’t I?”
I look away; suddenly glad he has both those strong hands on the steering wheel as he glowers at me. In the dim glow from the dashboard lights he seems less than human and a long moment passes while he fights to get his rage under control.
“For your information,” he begins, “the boys in blue turned up about twenty minutes after you left. Apparently, Avril and Alan, were nabbed in someone’s field and told the cops that you were still in the grounds and might be lying injured, so I had no choice but to tel
l them what had happened or they would have been tramping all over the place for the rest of the night looking for you.”
“Oh.” I reply.
“Oh.“ He shouts. “Oh.” The sudden noise in the enclosed space makes my eardrums feels as though they’ve popped as I stare at him unsure of what he’s about to do. “Is that it? Oh. I thought you had a thing about apologising when you’re in the wrong. Aren’t you supposed to be the hot shot animal lovers around here? Yet it’s because of your stupidity that our dogs are roaming around the countryside, possibly lying dead in the fast lane of the motorway for all I know.”
Danny’s dogs have slipped my mind in my relief at getting out of police custody and again I find myself having to apologise to the man I’m supposed to be giving a hard time to. He fixes me with a hard stare, waiting.
“I’m sorry about the dogs Danny.” I say. “Really I am. We’ll find them.”
His face remains hard and angry. “You might have told me you’d cut through the fence. I thought you’d climbed over it.”
I cringed. “I’m sorry Danny.. I just didn’t think.”
“No you didn’t did you? People like you never do.”
Thankfully he returns his attention to driving for a while, clearly too angry to speak, leaving me to stew with my own thoughts for a while. After the agonising silence he speaks again.
“And as for the dogs, you only had to look at those two to see they’re a right pair of soppy dates. They wouldn’t harm a fly.”
I sneak a long surreptitious look at him as he concentrates on manoeuvring the car around a series of bends, unable to stop a curious mix of emotions sweep over me. It’s so hard to imagine him as a dog lover yet here he is, almost in tears thinking about them.
“I thought they were attack dogs.” I begin. “We all did. None of us actually saw them. All I could think about was getting away from them and then the barking stopped.”
My voice is soon drowned out by Danny’s laughter. The action at complete odds with his black mood a second earlier and I find myself looking for the door handle in case it should come to throwing myself outside and risking fate yet again.
“What’s so funny?”
“Attack dogs! That’s a real laugh.” He says. “Those two run away from rabbits. They actually run away from rabbits! If I know them, the reason the barking stopped was because they were frightened out there alone in the dark.”
When he’s thoroughly enjoyed his vision of the nights fiasco, his face falls again. “I hope we get them back though.”
“They mean a lot to you don’t they?”
“Yes they do. But my Father will really flip if anything’s happened to them.”
“It was pitch dark out there.” I whisper. “We heard the barking and the horrible sound of them crashing through the bushes, we just ran. We didn’t think you’d own friendly dogs. Not you.”
I avoid the look again and went quickly on. “Will they know their way back to your place?”
Danny sighs. “That’s been worrying me. We’ve only lived at the Manor for about six months and they might not have got their bearings yet. I only hope they don’t head off to our old place in London.”
My heart sinks further. London is three hundred miles away and the dogs will almost certainly hit disaster long before getting there.
Danny presses a switch on a small keypad affixed to the car’s dashboard and the double wrought iron gates swing open to allow us access to Fulton Manor. As he drives slowly along the gravel road, the security lights to the left illuminate automatically and bathe the whole area in sharp white light. I notice two large wooden kennels, like over-sized Wendy houses, a little way from the front door. The dogs appear then from around the back of the house as soon as they hear the scrunching of tyres on stone chips and come bounding clumsily towards us, their big brown eyes reflecting a deep satanic shade of green as the headlights pick them out.
Danny stops and jerks the handbrake up with enough force to snap the cable on cheaper cars. “That’s lucky,” he drawls with barely suppressed menace. “For you I mean.”
The car rocks slightly as the animals stand up on their hind legs and place their paws on the bodywork, looking in at us from both sides, their huge pink tongues hanging out as big as hand towels.
“Oh my God.” I gasp, squirming ever deeper into the leather seat as the animal on my side snaps its mouth shut and stares at me. I could swear there is some accusation in the blank stare.
“They won’t harm you.” Danny says. “Just don’t show them any fear.”
He climbs outside and I eventually join him when I’m sure he’s petted the dogs into a friendly state of mind. It’s all right for him to say don’t show them fear as he’s probably had them for years and besides, Danny doesn’t look as though fear is something he ever experiences. They are beautiful animals though and I manage to pluck up courage to stroke them too, gingerly at first and they are soon licking my hand and brushing their smooth black bodies against my legs, threatening to push me over with their sheer bulk. Seeing Danny making such a fuss of them makes me feel awkward and out of place, as if I’m intruding on some private ritual between the master and his hounds.
“I’d better be going.” I whisper. “It’s getting awfully late.”
He rounds on me instantly. “Going!”
“The dogs are back and they look just fine. They were what you were worried about weren’t they?”
He takes a step closer. “You’re not going anywhere.” he growls. “I had to pull you out of two deep holes tonight in case you’d forgotten and this little episode has got to be paid for.” Alarm bells ring somewhere deep in my head and the dogs fix me with their dark looks as waiting for the secret word that will allow them to rip me to pieces. There would be no outrunning them if it came to it and I wonder with mounting panic just how soppy they really are. A dog could still be called soppy as it was ripping chunks out of a juicy steak.
Danny crooks a finger, as a teacher beckoning a naughty child would do. I follow him to the garage attached to the right side of the house while the dogs tag on behind us, preventing all thoughts of a run towards the main gates. Danny hands me a heavy tool box and it pulls me over with a back-jarring jolt as soon as I take the weight. It’s Massive and filthy, the sort that opens up like a flower to display its contents. He shakes his head sadly. “I see you need some serious building up.”
I haul the box up my right leg, the only way I can raise it off the ground, wincing as the metal scrapes painfully against my knee, determined to show Danny Marsden I’m made of sterner stuff than he gives me credit for. He looks down with some concern and for a moment I think he might be about to offer to carry it. Instead he says, “Mind you don’t damage those clothes. If I know Amanda, they’ll be very expensive.”
I bite my lip and curse inwardly. If it wasn’t so cold I’d rip them off and thrown them at him. “What am I supposed to do with this?” I demand.
Danny smirks and I instantly regret the statement. “You’re going to mend that hole in the fence, that’s what you’re going to do and if it’s not done properly, I’ll be sending a hefty bill to your Mother.”
My protest dies on my lips at the thought of that. “All right,” I say evenly, beaten for now. “I’m all yours.”
His eyes twinkle evilly under the fierce glare from the security lights. “Yes you are aren’t you?”
He turns and marches off, leaving me to stumble after him. With every step, the dead weight of the box threatens to pull me over as I try to keep up, anxiously stumbling after the torch light. He leads the way through the undergrowth towards the fence and the journey seems a lot longer than before. I wonder if he’s deliberately taken the scenic route and by the time I catch up with him my sides ache as badly as my head.
“Can’t we do this in the morning?” I gasp.
“No we can’t.” He snaps, again leaving me behind as he strides easily over t
he rough terrain. “We don’t want any more uninvited guests squeezing in through that hole and I don’t want the dogs getting out again.”
I’m soon lagging so far behind I can no longer hear him speak and can only just make out the torch beam. My arm and the left side of my body are so badly cramped, it feels as though I’ll never be able to use either of them again. He spins round suddenly, but the expected shout to hurry up never comes. Instead, he walks slowly back to where I stand panting for breath.
“Here, give me that.”
“It’s all right, I can manage.” I wheeze, hanging onto the handle gamely and raging inside for being so weak. “Just give me a second.”
“Give it to me,” he orders, lifting it up as effortlessly as an empty shoe box. I straighten slowly, wincing as my throbbing muscles relax. We get to the fence and I watch Danny fasten the jagged edges of the split together with several short lengths of wire threaded through each half of the fence and twist them together with pliers. It takes him about five minutes.
“There,” he says, straightening up. “Not a bad job if I say so myself. It’s almost as good as being welded.”
“Is that it?” I frown. “Why did we have to bring that dirty great toolbox just to use a pair of pliers and a few bits of wire?”
“I wouldn’t have had much fun making you carry a pair of pliers and some wire now would I?” He replies.
I fold my arms and glare up at him. “You really are the most utterly horrible person I’ve ever met.”
His eyes glint fiercely as he fixes me with the stony stare I had first seen back at the Town Hall. “Yes, I am horrible aren’t I Cathy?” he says. “I sit at home trying catch up on a mountain of paperwork while a few deranged yokels damage my Father’s fence, run around our property, endanger our dogs and cause me no end of grief into the bargain. And what’s it all for? To rescue a few small creatures that they think are being held here against their will.”
My face dropped. “The sergeant told you?”
“No he didn’t actually.” He grins. “But it didn’t need Einstein to work out what you’d come here for.” He stood closer now and his voice softened. “You know Cathy; there are better ways of achieving what you want without having to resort to this sort of thing.”
Here we go again, I think to myself, another lecture. I look casually away through the trees before replying. “If I knew of a better way, don’t you think I’d be doing it? Sneaking around in the dark, risking fierce dogs, being prosecuted for trespass or blasted with a shotgun is not my idea of fun either.”
He sighs and jerks the toolbox up off the ground and I expect him to order me to carry it back to the garage but he keeps it with him.
“You won’t get shot by me.” He says. “I don’t have a gun.”
“You mean you’re not part of the shoot everything that moves culture that seems to be inherent in everyone around here? You amaze me. I’d have thought blowing defenceless creatures to bits with a trusty old twelve bore would have been right up your alley.”
He frowns and a dark look descends on his face as his lips become two thin horizontal white lines. “I just don’t like guns,” he snarls. “They scare the hell out of me.”
Now his face looks like it’s been carved from stone and his voice is strangely loud in the still around us. I feel suddenly vulnerable being alone with him out here in the dark as he glares down at me, daring me to make some sarcastic remark. Danger radiates from him and even I accept this is not the best time for bravado. I keep quiet and have to force myself to hold the icy stare by thinking only of the welcoming party at the start of my ill fated trip to France.
After a long agonising silence he turns abruptly and strides back towards the house, leaving me to wonder what triggered his strange outburst. It’s hard to imagine guns or anything else for that matter scaring Danny Marsden. He just doesn’t seem the type.
I follow him silently and I can feel the simmering rage huddled all around him as I watch him ahead of me. It’s really late now and with the toolbox locked away, I announce my intention to leave. Danny looks at me directly for the first time since we’d stood by the fence. He seems a little embarrassed but there’s something else hidden in those dark puzzling eyes.
“You’re going to need a lift this time.” He says. “I seem to remember your bike was left chained up outside the hospital.”
“Hell, I’d forgotten all about that.” I cringe, wondering if it’s been swiped by the hospital’s more dubious night-time clientele. “It doesn’t matter though.” I lied. “I’ll fetch it in the morning.”
“You don’t think an expensive ride like that is going to last an entire night there do you? Don’t worry. The unfeeling monster is on hand to give you a lift.”
Again I fight the urge to blush. He always seems to have me on the back foot, but it has been an exhausting night and the thought of having to walk the five miles or so to the hospital, cycle back home and almost certainly wake my Mother in the process fills me with dread. I need his help..again.
“I would appreciate a lift Danny.” I manage. “I know it’s a nuisance for you but I should get that bike. That thing is more important than anything right now. I’m afraid to leave it anywhere most times in case something bad should happen to it. You know what it represents.” My voice tailed off, strangled out by the familiar stabbing pain in my chest.
Danny nods quickly and looks away. “Yes I understand, there’s no need to say any more.” Suddenly he seems low enough to burst into tears himself. But the last thing I want from him is sympathy. Telling him about my Father has slipped out in an unguarded moment and it has somehow weakened me. I already loathe him for it and it’s tough to work out if the pained expression in his rugged face is for real or his way of playing along with me to get me on side for his tiresome plans.
“It’s all right Danny.” I say “I wasn’t looking for sympathy.”
“I didn’t think you were.” He mumbles. The usual sarcasm has deserted him and he appears to be as miserable I feel right then. I can’t understand how the death of my Father can affect him so badly. I know his own Father’s alive and well, he has mentioned him several times during the evening. “Come on then.” He says. “Your Mother will be getting worried and I don’t want her to call the police.”
We climb into the car and he starts the engine which growls like a wounded animal in the quiet. He’s silent now and preoccupied with his own dark thoughts and I can’t help feel curious about what might be troubling him. Surely he has everything a man could ever want.
“You can tell me what’s wrong.” I venture. “If there’s something bothering you, it’s better to let it out rather than having it gnawing away on the inside.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He replies flatly, concentrating on manoeuvring through the gates and stopping while he waits for them to close before driving out into the lane beyond.
“Well, if you need someone to talk to I..”
“Look, just forget it.“ He snaps suddenly. “I’m a big boy now and I can handle my problems thank you.”
I sigh and slump back. He really is an impossible man and it crosses my mind to tell him what he can do with his lift but I need him, for now anyway. Tomorrow will be another day and I vow it will be very different. Today, I will have to bite my lip and accept his manner with good grace.
“So what do you do at the Animal Rescue Centre?” He says at last, as if eager to get the conversation as far away from death as possible. I detect a note that sounds suspiciously like what could someone like you possibly do there, but I can’t be sure.
“I help Molly Preston with the day to day running of the place for two or three days a week. Just mundane things and nothing very exciting. Keeping the animal cages clean and making sure they’re well-fed and watered, showing the occasional visitor around, things like that.”
“Do you actually assist the vets while they’re doing operations?”
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“Yes, sometimes. I can also administer drugs in emergencies, but usually there’s someone more experienced on hand to do that. By the time we get the animals they’re usually past being operated on anyway. A lot of them have to be put to sleep, especially those run over by thoughtless drivers.”
He sighs. “You mean drivers like me don’t you?”
“Yes. Drivers like you.” I reply evenly. “But it’s not just drivers. There are all manner of thoughtless people out there.”
“For instance?”
“Anglers who leave reams of nylon line lying around so that wild birds get strangled by it or swallow it or get it wrapped so tightly around their legs they can’t walk. Eventually the blood stops reaching a foot until it becomes useless and has to be amputated or just falls off.” I hear myself going on and wonder if he has simply got me onto my pet subject to prevent me asking him any probing questions, but I don’t care. Danny Marsden has to know the world exists for others too and not just him. “Then there are the picnic crowds who seem to think the countryside is one big dustbin designed exclusively for their use. They discard all sorts of dangerous rubbish. Jagged food cans and broken glass and then some animal gets injured by it. But some of these people are way beyond educating.”
He smiled and seems more like his old condescending self with every passing minute. Personally I prefer him the other way, but I guess the shields don’t come down too often.
“But drivers are still your pet hate?” he says.
“Yes. But only because most of our poor customers are victims of them.”
“And what makes you think I’d run over an animal and leave it to die?”
“You did it to me.”
He shoots me an angry look. “I did not do it to you,” he barks. “And I wish you’d stop saying I did. As I told you today, I didn’t realise you had come off the bloody bike. I thought you’d wobbled because of the air current as my car passed you.”
“That wasn’t an air current Danny, it was a force ten hurricane.”
He twitches angrily and I quickly look through the side window to enjoy the tiny buzz of victory. Savouring it like a cat that’s just knocked a carton of full cream out of the fridge while his owners are at work. He yanks the car around a tight bend and the tyres squeal in protest, loudly confirming that he does drive too fast and he lets the speed drop to a more acceptable level.
“Well I was in a hurry.” He says at last. “And there you were out in the middle of the road enjoying the delights of summer without a thought for other road users, laughing your head off for no reason at all. If I hadn’t been so alert I’d have gone straight into the back of you. What the hell was it that was so funny out there anyhow?”
“Oh I was just overjoyed at being alive on such a fine morning.” I say, “Just me and the sunshine and the trees and the birds singing. Don’t you ever get days like that?”
“No.” He snaps, before adding, “God you’re weird.
I grin again out of the window and he’s thinking again. “But you can’t tell me there wasn’t more to it than that?”
“As a matter of fact there was.” I reply. “I only got the plaster casts taken off my legs about two weeks ago and it was the first serious ride on the new bike. I was just overjoyed to be able to still walk after being confined to the hospital and our tiny house for so long.”
“What happened to your legs?” He demands.
Again I pause, loathe to give him too much of me. “I fell almost three hundred feet down the side of a mountain, if you must know. While on my first and last skiing trip last Autumn.”
He pulls a face. “Is that true?”
“Of course it’s true. Want to see the scars.”
“No.” He replied quickly, “I’ll take your word for it. So you’re more than a little accident prone?”
I nod sadly. This is one area where even I realise arguing is futile. I’d broken lots of bones over the years. “But I’m pretty well tough enough to cope with anything.”
“So you’re a tomboy?” He adds.
“Yes.” I suppose. “My Parents only had two girls and I think Dad viewed me as the son he was never going to have. He didn’t curb my enthusiasm for all the dangers in life either, despite Mum telling him off all the time. Do you get your attitude from your Father?”
The question confuses him for a moment.
“What attitude?”
“That ‘Get out of my way or I’ll kill you’ attitude.”
He pauses for a long time before answering.
“I don’t have that attitude!”
“I’m afraid you do Danny.” I say. “It’s there and unless you do something about it, you’ll be stuck with it for life.”
“Thank you Doctor I’ll take that on advice.” He hisses.
“Well I hope you do,” I reply. “How old are you anyway?”
“Almost twenty four.”
“Mmmm.”
“Mmmm what?”
“That’s a very bad age. You’ll be so set in your ways soon nothing will ever budge you. You’ll stay a cold-hearted monster forever.”
“You are deliberately trying to provoke me aren’t you?” He growls. “Is that really how you see me?”
“Yes, how else am I supposed to see you?” I reply. “You wear that plastic mask of yours all day in public and in private you’re as miserable as sin. Scared in case anyone should get a look at the real you. You can’t tolerate people disagreeing with you or having an opinion that isn’t in line with your own and if they do, you quickly label them lunatics. Just what is behind your problems?”
“Have you quite finished?” He sighs as we approach the hospital.
“Yes,” I say, glad to have got the outburst off my chest, but knowing from experience that people generally don’t want to hear the truth.
“I don’t have any problems.” He growls. “And it’s a pity you view me in such a bad light. I had hoped we might be friends.”
“Us?” I laugh, feeling cruel and enjoying every second of it. Those horrible minutes in the pit have left their mark and besides, I’d tried to be his friend back at the house and he’d rejected me without hesitation. “My real friends would never speak to me again if they knew I was so much as talking to, you let alone friendship.”
“So there’s no chance of a truce.”
“How can there be a truce Danny?” I say. “You want to destroy something I happen to care deeply about and I’m not going to stand by and let you do it. Not while I have an ounce of breath left in my body.”
He says nothing more as he slides the car carefully into a parking space at the back of the car park, even though his is the only car and my bike the only other wheeled vehicle in sight. Thankfully it still looks to be in one piece.
“Let’s stick it in the back and I’ll run you home.” He says, looking at his watch. “It’s getting kind of late.”
“No.” I reply flatly. “You’ve been troubled enough for one night.”
“It’s no trouble. Besides, I’m just being selfish really.”
I eye him suspiciously as he goes on. “It’s just that I have this horrible vision of your Mother on the phone to our favourite sergeant reporting you missing and I can’t face another run-in with that idiot, not tonight anyway.”
The thought that my Mother might actually do just that, especially after this afternoon’s fall, galvanises me into action. Yet the idea of Danny having to do me yet another favour makes me feel sick and I hate the idea of being under any obligation to him.
“Thanks.” I croak. “Give me a minute.”
He helps me stows the bike in the back and we cover the journey home in no time, traffic being non-existent at this hour. He stops at the end of my street and sets the bike down, propping it against the car.
“How come you didn’t drive right up to the house?” I ask.
“And embarrass you in front of your precious friends? He s
ays. “Who knows, they might be looking out of your sitting room window now, anxious for news of their heroic colleague.”
“You’re mocking me again Danny.”
“What do you expect?” He shrugs. “You’re hardly the most organised bunch are you?”
I narrow my eyes. “We’ll improve, with practice.” I say, making it clear the battle is far from done. I’m about to offer him a curt goodnight when he suddenly grabs me and kisses me hard on the mouth. The feeling I experienced in his kitchen that evening sweeps through me again and it frightens me for all the wrong reasons. Cursing inwardly, I find myself responding to him until the thought of what he represents forces me back down to earth. I try to break free of his powerful hold, but he’s strong and his hard upper arm muscles are pressed into my back. Only when he decides to let me go am I able to step back from him.
My heart hammers and I feel giddy and breathless. His easy smile only succeeds in feeding my mounting fury until an overwhelming urge to slap his face takes a hold of me and I lash out at him. The crack echoes around in the still.
For a moment his eyes grow wide with shock and he stares at me but I stand firm and return his dark look, daring him to try again. At last he shakes his head and erupts into laughter.
I glare at him one last time before wheeling the bike by the handlebars across the road without another word, concentrating on walking as straight as possible, aware of his gaze burning into my back and hating him for his boorish attitude. My legs are still trembling as I reach the front door. I turn to risk a look back, but the car has gone. Well, I’ll be ready for him next time I vow to myself. I slip inside the house and quietly ease the security bolt home.