Part 11 (2/2)

Kathleen reached out and covered Lucy's hand with hers. 'What do you mean?' she smiled knowingly. 'I've no idea what you're talking about!'

For the remainder of Lucy's stay, there was no more talk of Lucy's problem, or the promise she had made. It was as though that particular conversation never even happened.

The unspoken subject, however, continued to weigh heavily on both their minds.

The evening was already creeping in, when Lucy decided to make her way home.

'Martin and Sam are bound to be home by now,' she explained. 'Anne's organised their dinner, but I'd best get back or they'll start to worry.'

At least, Sam might be worried, she thought bitterly.

At the door, Kathleen gave her a big hug. 'Mind how you go, and I'll see you next week at work ...' she deliberately made no mention of what had been said, '... unless you've decided to take a few more days off?'

'No, I don't think so,' Lucy replied. 'I'll be better off at work less time to dwell on things and besides, I don't want to upset the boss.'

'Oh, I'm sure she'll understand in the circ.u.mstances.'

'Maybe, but if I'm at home, I'll be on my own, and that's the last thing I need.'

At the top of the street she turned and waved to Kathleen before quickening her steps and heading for the bus stop.

Thankfully, when the bus drew up, she noticed it was a different conductor from the bossy woman of earlier, this one pleasant and round-faced, with a floppy belly that hung over his trouser-belt.

Lucy climbed to the upper deck and sat herself right at the front. When the bus set off, she was mesmerised as the rows of streetlights came on one after the other, creating a kind of landing strip.

With the bus gathering speed, she settled into her seat, thankful to be the only pa.s.senger upstairs. The privacy suited her troubled mind, and soothed the ache in her heart.

It was a strange thing, but up here she felt as though she was at the top of the world, safe, hidden away where no one and nothing could hurt her.

Relaxing into the seat, she leaned back and closed her eyes, concentrating on the rhythmic throb of the engine.

She might have fallen asleep if it hadn't been for the fat conductor puffing and panting up the narrow, winding staircase. 'Dearie me!' He paused to catch his breath. 'You've not only made me climb the stairs,' he complained to Lucy, 'but you've parked yourself right up front, mekkin' me travel the length o' the bus!'

s.n.a.t.c.hing a hankie from his pocket, he wiped the beads of sweat from his pink, chubby face. 'Trying to give me an 'eart attack, are you?'

'I'm sorry. I didn't think,' Lucy said.

'Aw! Don't you lose any sleep over it. Risking life and limb is what I get paid for.'

He took her fare, then huffed and puffed back down the stairs. 'I'll shout when it's your stop,' he called back.

Lucy was worried he might be in the wrong job.

When a few minutes later the bus began to slow down, Lucy heard the conductor calling, and she quickly made her way down the steps.

On reaching the bottom of the steps she grasped hold of the pole to keep herself steady while the bus pulled up.

As the bus slowly approached the stop, she noticed a man tall, well-built, and wearing a long dark overcoat emerging from the entrance of a nearby restaurant. She thought she recognised him as the man who had found her hiding in the bus shelter, but because he was facing the other way, obviously waiting for someone, she could not be certain.

Intrigued, she continued to peek at him. Then suddenly he turned and, to Lucy's horror, looked straight at her. She was left in no doubt. It was him. The man from the bus shelter.

Ashamed and embarra.s.sed, she wanted to run, but there was no place to go.

Like a rabbit caught in the headlights, she was momentarily unable to s.h.i.+ft her gaze. When he gave a long, slow smile of recognition, she took two steps back on the bus platform, to where she was certain he could not see her.

That night in the bus shelter, she had deliberately remained in the shadows, so how could he have remembered her? And yet, she had recognised him.

Trapped on the bus, she was desperate to get off and make her getaway.

When, a moment later, the bus shuddered to a halt, she feared the man might approach her. Instinctively, she hung back, until the conductor said loudly, 'Hey! Wake up, lady! Are you getting off, or do you want to be locked in the depot all night?'

Apologising, Lucy immediately got off. She did not look in the man's direction. Impatient to get away, she set off at a quick pace, in the opposite direction to where the man was standing.

When a voice called out to her, she knew it was him. 'Wait ... please! Hey! Hang on a minute ...'

Lucy broke into a run. Then, dodging down the nearest alley, she flattened herself against the wall, her heart pounding when a long shadow fell across the mouth of the alley. In the flickering light from the streetlamp, she saw him peering down the alley, looking for her. She pressed back in the shadows, hardly daring to breathe.

When he took a stride towards where she was hiding, Lucy was panic-stricken. Why was he after her? What did he want? Her instinct told her he would not hurt her, but the fact that he had caught her crying in the bus shelter was overwhelmingly embarra.s.sing.

She desperately needed to put that particular incident behind her and didn't want to revisit it now, with this stranger.

Suddenly, a woman's voice cut the air. 'Dave!' Then again, 'Dave, what the devil are you doing?'

To Lucy's great relief, the man turned and walked away.

Remaining hidden, Lucy could hear the two voices, the man and the woman, soft and friendly, with the occasional burst of laughter from the woman. And then they were gone, and it was silent again.

Lucy dared to take a nervous little peek round the corner. The two of them were dawdling, arm in arm, along the street, still talking together.

She watched as they climbed the few steps into the entrance of a hotel just along from the restaurant. It was then that she recognised the woman. She was the one Lucy remembered as being with the kindly man on that fateful day.

At the door, the man stepped back, allowing the woman to go first. As he followed, he quickly turned his head and looked down the street, as though searching for Lucy.

Lucy, though, was already fleeing through the darkened streets, eager to get away from there.

A short time later, having put a considerable distance between herself and the couple, she paused to take a breath.

After a while, with a measure of reluctance, she set off again. She did not want to go home. But what real choice did she have? Besides, over these many years she had helped to build the house into a home and, until recently, she had been happy there.

Thinking of home now, though, was painful. Who are you, Lucy? she asked herself. Deeply saddened, she slowed her steps. Where do you belong?

Thoughts of her parents loomed large in her mind. She missed them desperately. It was like the heart had been torn out of her.

When images of Martin and her sister together began to darken her thoughts, she deliberately pushed them to the back of her mind. Even then, the shocking reality of what she had seen continued to haunt her.

How could she live with it? What was she supposed to do?

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