Twenty Thousand Streets Under the Sky (1935) by Patrick Hamilton

Author:Patrick Hamilton [Hamilton, Patrick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781446426500
Publisher: Random House
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

III

THE MORNING AFTER

PROJECTED FROM AN urgent and resounding dream, Jenny opened her eyes in silent darkness, her head buried between unfamiliar sheets.

She had slept a long while, but apprehended that it was still night in the world without. That the sheets were unfamiliar she sensed, but was not at present consciously aware. Also she heard the sound of a Venetian blind spasmodically crack-cracking against a window in the draught, but she did not realize that that sound was unfamiliar. . . .

A shot of pain careered through her head, and left it hideously throbbing, and a feeling of bile spread up and over her. She closed her eyes until it allayed itself a little. Something had happened. That was all she could take in at the moment. Something had happened.

What was it? What was the time? Where was she? What had she done? She heard her trembling breath coming and going in a roar in the sheets. Yes. She remembered. She had got drunk. (Couldn’t she stop her trembling?) She had got drunk.

Last night she had got drunk. She had gone into that pub, and got drunk. It was in Hammersmith, with those three. It wasn’t fair – them making her drunk like that. Violet, and those two common ‘boys.’

Where were they now? What had they all done? Oh God – she was in trouble. She was in trouble all right this time.

What was it she had done? Tom. . . . Tom was in it somewhere. . . . Yes – she had gone outside that pub, and heaped vile words on him. She had been mad. She had been drunk, and he had told her so. She had been drunk all over Hammersmith. Oh God – what had she said and what had she done? Oh God – she was in trouble. In fearful crescendo her memories flocked back upon her.

Then they had all gone in that car. Andy had been driving, and she had been beside him. And the other three shouting and drinking behind. It wasn’t fair – that dirty crowd making her drunk like that. Where had they all gone? Past Chiswick and out on the Great West Road. . . .

The accident! The bike! ‘Look out for the bike. Look out for the bike!’ She heard herself screaming it now. That vibrating thud against the side! They had knocked a poor man over. And she had been in the car with that drunken lot; she had been the drunkest of the lot! They had killed a man! Oh God – she was in a scrape this time all right.

Had they been found out? What had happened? Andy had driven on. Had they escaped?

Where was she? These sheets – they weren’t hers. That blind rattling – this wasn’t her room. Someone had brought her somewhere. Oh God – what had they done with her, and where was she? She sprang up in bed and stared in horror and silence at the window.

She was in a narrow slip of a room, with the window facing her a few yards from the end of the bed.

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