One said something about her looking stuck-up and needing a really good fuck. The other laughed and said something she could only catch the end of: “…enough cock to pave the road from here to Land’s End -ends up!” And they burst into laughter.
Kirsten whirled round and flung the rest of her lager at them. As they recoiled in shock, their knees knocked the table and their glasses tipped over, rolled onto the stone floor and smashed. Beer spilled all over the place. In a flash, the landlord rushed over. “Hey! I don’t want no trouble.” Before they knew what had happened, Kirsten and Sarah found themselves back out in Cheap Street. They had no idea where the two boys had got to.
Kirsten leaned against a lamppost to catch her breath, and Sarah stood beside her, laughing. “Well, you really showed them, didn’t you? And I thought getting chucked out of pubs was my speciality.”
“Did you hear what they said?”
“Yeah, some of it. Come on, love, let’s walk a bit. Their kind’s not worth bothering about. Besides, it’s not as far from here to Land’s End as it is from up north.”
“I suppose that does water down the insult a bit,” Kirsten said. “ Lancashire, I’d say, from the way they talked. Probably Manchester.”
Sarah raised her eyebrows. “I’m impressed. I’ve already forgotten most of what I learned last year, but you still remember that linguistics stuff.”
Kirsten managed a smile. “I suppose it’s like riding a bike. You never forget. Anyway, we should be going home soon. I said we wouldn’t be late.”
The snow was still falling. Now the flakes were bigger and fatter, and an inch or two had settled on the roads and pavements, where it was soon churned up into gray slush by cars and pedestrians. They walked past the floodlit Abbey and turned right onto Pierrepont Street. Beyond Parade Gardens, the river reflected the strings of red-and-green Christmas lights, and snowflakes drifted down to melt on the water’s surface. There were still plenty of shoppers about with huge carrier bags full of presents.
“Nice,” said Sarah, when she saw the Audi.
Kirsten took a scraper from the boot and wiped the snow from the windscreen, then she negotiated the one-way system onto Wells Road. Soon they had left the city behind and turned off the main road onto the narrow country lanes. Here the snow lay undisturbed before the car’s wheels, a pristine white carpet glittering in the headlights. Thick flakes fell and stuck to the window, melting before the wipers could brush them away.
Almost without realizing it, Kirsten found herself pressing her foot down on the accelerator. She knew these winding roads like the back of her hand. They were all so narrow that drivers had to pull into the frequent passing places if they met someone coming in the opposite direction, and the hedgerows were so tall that no one could see what was around the next corner. Kirsten felt the car going faster and faster, the snow rushing at the windscreen like a blizzard. She started to slip a little on the corners. The needle edged higher and adrenaline surged in her veins. She couldn’t stop herself even if she wanted to.
After a while, she became aware of a distant voice and felt a hand shaking her. It was Sarah yelling for her to slow down. She looked terrified. All of a sudden, Kirsten felt herself snap back, and eased her foot off the accelerator. She felt drained. Sarah was still ranting on about getting them killed and asking her if she was crazy. Finally, Kirsten just had to stop. She pulled into the first passing place she came across, put on the brakes and turned off the engine. Her hands were shaking on the wheel.
“Are you trying to get us both killed?” Sarah yelled.
Kirsten couldn’t speak.
“Well, it’s all right with me if you want to kill yourself,” Sarah went on angrily, “but just leave me out of it, all right? I’d rather bloody well walk, even though I don’t know where the hell I am.” And she reached for the door handle.
Kirsten leaned over to stop her. “Don’t,” she said urgently. “I’m sorry, Sarah, I…I don’t know…”
Sarah paused and turned back, concern showing in her fine, pale features. “You all right?”
Kirsten’s hands still gripped the wheel so tightly that her knuckles shone as white as the snow. She shook her head. She could feel the intense silence and darkness outside the car. Without lights, the snow only showed up as a faint pearly sheen on the road and hedges. The Mendip Hills were lost somewhere in the night. Inside, their breath misted the windows.
“Kirstie?” Sarah asked again. “Are you all right, love?”
Kirsten let go of the wheel and threw herself toward Sarah with a strength and desperation that almost sent them both flying out of the door.
“No,” she cried. “No, I’m not all right at all.”
She hung on tight and felt Sarah’s arms close around her, holding her and muttering soft words. For the first time since it happened, she began to really cry. The warm salt tears didn’t just trickle down her cheeks, they welled up in her eyes and poured over onto Sarah’s shoulder as Kirsten clung on and sobbed.
37 Susan
After two days without success, Sue almost gave up. There seemed to be too many obstacles in her way, and she was making too many mistakes. For a start, the conversation with the woman in Rose’s Café worried her, then she overheard two workers talking and learned that the factory operated on a shift system. Only the office workers came teeming out of the mesh gates at five o’clock. Most of the people on the shop floor worked one of the shifts: noon to eight, eight to four and four to noon. Finding him now seemed like an impossible task. She could hardly turn up there at four in the morning and stand gawking as the workers filed out.
Even the weather continued to work against her. It rained on and off, and the temperature dropped low enough that she had to wear her cardigan under the raincoat. She was quite prepared to spend some of her fast-dwindling money on binoculars and go up to the woods, even though the ground would be wet, but luckily it didn’t come to that. A couple of pieces of good luck kept her going.
The first evening at five, she approached the gates again, and when she passed the café she noticed a different woman behind the counter. This one was younger, with long, stringy blond hair. There were a few people sitting in the place already, so Sue entered, head bowed like someone just seeking refuge from the rain, bought a cup of tea without having to answer any questions, and took the window seat. Perhaps the woman she had met there before only worked lunchtimes? She wouldn’t need to spend so much of her money on binoculars and end up catching pneumonia in the damp woods after all.
The problem of the shifts remained, and Sue didn’t know how to get around that one. She certainly couldn’t afford binoculars with infrared lenses, so the four a.m. changeover was beyond her. That left noon and eight at night, both of which she could cover from the Brown Cow.
Cheered by the turn in her fortunes, Sue left Rose’s Café just after five thirty on the first day, treated herself to cannelloni and salad in a rather expensive restaurant on New Quay Road near the station-a place that didn’t specialize in fish and chips-and then went back over the Esk at a quarter to eight to find the Brown Cow. Instead of turning right at the cul-de-sac that led to the factory, she continued up the lane past the edge of the council estate and found the pub about a hundred yards further on. It was an undistinguished modern redbrick place with a Tetley’s sign hanging outside.
The doors opened into a large lounge, completely lacking in character: dull beige wallpaper and a stained brown carpet, sticky and worn in patches. The tables were made of some kind of tough black plastic, and the molded seats were uncomfortable. It was a functional place. Clearly the only people who went there were those who lived on the nearby estate. Factory workers might drop by at lunchtime, Sue thought glumly, but they weren’t likely to make an evening of it there when the shift ended at eight o’clock.