Lockridge, Frances & Richard, - Death Has a Small Voice by Death Has a Small Voice

Author:Death Has a Small Voice [Voice, Death Has a Small]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-01-21T00:00:00+00:00

VII

Wednesday: 3.10 a.m. to 5.30 a.m.

PAM NORTH lay behind the stone wall, in wet grass, cold dampness spreading through her. She shivered; nervousness and cold combined to make her teeth chatter. She was absurdly afraid, as she heard the station wagon coming down the road towards her, that the chattering of her teeth would reveal her. She set her teeth hard together.

The car, invisible from where she lay (as she prayed she would be invisible to its occupant), passed slowly down the road. She could see the lights, which briefly made the pale night white. The car passed, and she did not move. She heard it continue, still slowly, down the road. She waited. After a few minutes, the sound of its motor died away, but she still did not move. After several more minutes, she got to her knees and then, crouching, to her feet.

She saw headlights and dropped back to concealment in the wet grass. She heard the motor again, as the car approached; again the lights whitened the top of the wall, leaving her in a trough of darkness. The car still moved slowly, and again it passed. She was certain it was the station wagon she had seen in the yard of the man - what was his name? - whose intonation and pronunciation were British. She was certain that, in it, the man was looking for her.

Was his the voice? Pam North thought again, and found she could not be sure. She did not know, now, whether she would ever be sure. If she could not, this strange nightmare of flight was without purpose. She heard the car move back along the narrow road and then, while its sound was still clear in the night, the motor stopped. After a moment, straining her ears, she heard another sound which might be that of a door closing. Still for some moments she lay quiet, the damp cold biting into her.

When finally she roused herself, she got to her feet and began to walk, gropingly, inside the wall, parallel to the road, away from the house to which she was almost certain the man had returned. She continued to the length of one field, but then came to a closely articulated wire fence. Pam North went back over the wall, then, and down the road. She was too tired to run and could not see her way to run. As she walked, she kept looking back over her shoulder.

How long she went, furtive, through the semi - darkness along the narrow road, she did not know and could afterwards hardly estimate. She lost track of time; she lost any real consciousness of movement, except that each forward step came to be an ordeal almost beyond endurance. She did not pass any more houses or, if she did, they were set too far back from the road to be visible. She had begun by running for safety; now she crept. The lightweight wool of the dress, damp now, the dress shapeless, clung to her body.

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