by Lynda Page
Horror filled her. Without looking away from him, giving her handbag a threatening thrust in his direction, she hastened towards the entrance. It was only a few yards away but to Jan it seemed like miles. Then, to her absolute terror, she saw the leering man chuck away the empty bottle. It crashed against the wall behind him, smashing into smithereens, as with surprising agility he wormed round the back of the brazier and stood between her and the entrance, blocking her way.
Despite being aware that it would do her no good, Jan let out a terrified scream, which echoed around the cavernous walls. The light from the brazier flashed in the man’s eyes and she could see he was laughing at her, knowing he had her cornered. The next thing she knew he had lunged across and grabbed her wrist, holding her handbag to prevent her from attacking him with it while yanking her hard towards the back of the pitch-dark arches, where it was apparent he planned to have his way with her.
Screaming hysterically, she tried to dig her heels into the ground to counteract his fierce grip, but to no avail as the earth was too hard. She tried to kick out at him but her foot only contacted air. Then she tried to bite his wrist but the pair of filthy gloves and coat he had on left no bare patches for her to dig her teeth into. She was powerless to put a stop to his evil intentions. Her mind froze, her subconscious dreading to visualise what lay ahead.
He had dragged her almost as far as the light from the brazier reached. Ahead lay darkness where only the most fearless vagrants chose to sleep. Then, to her astonishment, he suddenly stopped dead and she heard a low voice say: ‘Let her go unless you want a taste of this.’ In the feeble light she could just make out the shape of a man standing in front of her assailant, pressing something into his side.
Jan held her breath, her heart thumping wildly, as the two men stared at each other for what seemed an age but was in truth a matter of a few seconds. Then her aggressor gave a grunt, released his grip on her and spun on his heel, giving her a rough shove out of his way. She watched, hardly daring to breathe, as he returned to the brazier, swearing and cursing en route, and snatched a bottle out of a crony’s hand, much to his displeasure, glugging back the contents.
She jumped as she felt a prod in her own side and a voice said, ‘I’d make a run for it, if I were you, before he changes his mind. And if you have any sense, you’ll give this place a wide berth in future.’
She realised from his voice that this was the vagrant she had clobbered with the brick inside her handbag only minutes ago. Before she could say anything to him he had turned away and was heading towards the entrance.
Jan was so befuddled by this sudden turn of events that she stared after him without saying anything for several long moments. Then her perilous situation occurred to her and she acted on her rescuer’s advice. She hurried after him, careful not to fall over any sleeping bodies, speeding up as she ran past the brazier and the men gathered around it, not daring to look in the direction of the vile creature who’d been about to rape her. Outside she did not pause to draw breath, desperate only to put some distance between herself and that awful place.
Suddenly she crashed into an unexpected obstacle and let out a cry of shock as the force of the impact sent her careering backwards. She landed heavily on her backside, handbag flying out of her hand and landing with a thud some feet away. She sat there feeling confused for a moment, wondering what she had collided with, then stiffened with alarm when she heard a groan of pain. She flashed a look around but it was too dark for her to see much as the street lights around here had been deliberately broken. Finally she saw the dim outline of a shape prostrate on the ground several feet away from her. She stared as it struggled to sit up, groaning painfully all the while. It was obviously a man.
It seemed he was better at seeing in the dark than she was. Rubbing his head where it had made contact with the pavement, he grumbled, ‘You seem hell-bent on finishing me off. Have you got some sort of vendetta against me?’
She recognised his voice. The man she had collided with was her saviour from the arches. ‘I’m sorry,’ she blurted, ‘I didn’t see you. I was trying to put some distance between me and that awful place. I was terrified that dreadful man might follow me.’
Glen had managed to get himself sitting upright now, one hand cradling another lump on his head, which he’d sustained at the hands of this woman. She was on her feet by now and stepped over to him, holding out her hand. ‘Let me help you up.’
He didn’t need to look at her face to tell that the thought of touching him was repellent to her. Ignoring her hand, he said gruffly, ‘I can manage, thank you.’ Once he’d managed to stand up, he checked that his sack of belongings was still attached to his frayed trouser belt, straightened his tattered clothes, then offered her a piece of advice before he turned and made his departure. ‘What you’re doing in these parts is your business, but as you’ve found out these are dangerous streets. If you’ve any sense, you’ll give the likes of the Grand Union arches a wide berth in future.’
She watched as he shambled off, shoulders hunched against the biting winter wind. The darkness soon swallowed him up, and then it seemed to descend on her, immobilising her with pure panic. Jan’s imagination ran riot. She envisaged eyes watching her, the people to whom they belonged ready to pounce. Maybe it was the man from the arches she was sensing; maybe he’d decided to come after her. If that were the case then she could forget her rescuer coming to her aid again as he had gone. She gave a violent shudder. She needed to get out of here and into the better-lit streets where she’d feel safer. She urgently needed to find some sort of shelter for the night, believing she had done so in the arches until she realised she had chosen just about the most dangerous place there was for the likes of her. It was barely past eight o’clock but bitterly cold already. There was no telling how much colder it was going to get as the night wore on. People froze to death in weather like this. But where could she find somewhere safe to rest her head, with no money in her purse? A vision of her saviour flooded back to mind. He was obviously a veteran of the streets so it was likely he would know. He was probably heading for it now, a safe haven for the night. She would follow him and see where he went.
Glen knew he was being followed. Whoever it was wasn’t trying to hide the fact. If they were after robbing him then they were wasting their time. He thrust his hand in his pocket and grabbed hold of his penknife, flicking open the blade. He stepped swiftly sideways into the shadows of an entry. As soon as the footsteps drew level with his hiding place, he jumped out, brandishing the knife at his suspected assailant. Before he could say anything his pursuer let out a scream. He recognised that sound. ‘You again!’ he snapped accusingly at Jan. ‘Why are you following me?’
She was staring wildly at the penknife. ‘Don’t hurt me! Please don’t hurt me . . .’
He flicked shut the blade and thrust it back into his pocket. ‘I’ve never hurt anyone with it yet. It’s just a deterrent. Up to now it’s worked. But I would use it if it were a matter of my life or death. Now why are you following me?’
She blustered, ‘I . . . I was hoping you were going to lead me to somewhere safe to spend the night.’
He stared at her, curious to know why the likes of her needed to sleep out for the night, but his years of living amongst types who held little regard for their fellow human beings had taught him that the less you knew about others, and the less they knew about you, the better. There were those who would happily slit your throat to get that knowledge out of you so as to use it to their own advantage. He told her, ‘I travel alone. It’s hard enough on the streets without being responsible for anyone else.’
He made to turn away then and continue on his way but Jan pleaded, ‘Oh, please don’t leave me on my own. I’m not asking you to be responsible for me but I’m scared. At least let me travel with you until we get out of this area.’
He frowned suspiciously at her. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at me. You’re seriously willing to be seen in public with the l
ikes of me?’
To be honest, she wasn’t. The thought that anyone might class her as a street person like him was excruciatingly embarrassing to Jan. But this man was the nearest she had to an ally in this alien world she found herself in. He knew how to get by here when she didn’t have a clue. So she lied to him. ‘I haven’t a problem with it at all.’
He knew she was being far from truthful but, if he were honest with himself, his conscience wouldn’t allow him to walk away from a vulnerable female while she was in a potentially dangerous environment. He said grudgingly, ‘It’s a free country. I can’t stop you walking where you want to.’
Jan was almost grateful the weather was as bitter as it was. The other pedestrians they encountered were far more interested in getting home to pay much attention to the filthy vagrant and the dishevelled woman they passed on the street. Regardless, when Jan saw someone approaching, she hunched her shoulders and lowered her head. They hadn’t spoken a word since they had set off. Several times she began to say something, merely to break the silence, but sensed her companion might become irritated by any female chit-chat and demand they part ways, and that was the last thing Jan wanted. She hadn’t a clue where they were heading.
The grim back streets they were travelling down were completely unknown to her. Jan hadn’t come from the most salubrious area, far from it, but hers was a far cry from here. She vehemently hoped this wasn’t where her newfound friend was planning to spend the night, in some rat-infested derelict building or such like, as she doubted the people who lived around here were any more reliable than those who inhabited the arches. She was pleased when it became clear that their surroundings were improving, leaving weed-infested cobbles and red-brick back-to-back terraces for tree-lined streets with gabled houses set back from the road behind large neat gardens. Hopefully there was somewhere around here that he knew of where they could rest. But still they continued walking.
It seemed to Jan that they had been walking for miles. She had hardly had any sleep the night before, staying in a miserable guest house on a flat lumpy mattress, trying to shut out the noises the other guests were making. The landlady had had the cheek to charge her ten shillings for her night’s lodging, all the money she’d had left in the world. Now she was struggling to put one foot in front of the other. Never before in all her life had she craved a cup of hot tea and a place to rest her aching body. She was following Glen across a crossroads when, on the opposite corner, she saw a church, light shining through its stained-glass windows. God had played a large part in the situation she found herself in now and she felt that she was finished with religion, but the church itself, a quiet place, seemed to be beckoning to her to take sanctuary.
‘Mister! Excuse me, Mister!’ she called out to Glen, who was several yards ahead of her.
It took him a few seconds to register who his companion was addressing. He hadn’t been called ‘Mister’ by anyone for such a long time now. He stopped and turned to look back at her.
‘We’ve walked for miles and I’m just about fit to drop. Could we stop and rest for a minute in that church over there?’
He glanced across at it before turning his attention back to her. There was a sharp edge to his voice when he said, ‘We’ve barely walked one mile, let alone miles. You’ll have to get used to walking long distances if you’re going to survive on the streets. I want to get where I’m heading before anyone else beats us to it.’ Then he saw the tiredness in her eyes, the weary stoop of her shoulders, and grudgingly relented. ‘All right, I suppose five minutes’ rest won’t hurt. But no more than five or I’ll be off without you. Come on.’
It could hardly be classed as warm inside the thick stone walls but at least they afforded a reprieve from the biting wind. Jan was far too grateful to be resting her aching body to notice she had sat down on a pew close beside her unsavoury-looking companion. It wasn’t until she had slipped off her shoes and lifted one leg so she could massage some life back into her foot that she noticed a gathering of people at the top of the aisle. From the way they were acting it was apparent that a wedding rehearsal was in progress. A moment or two’s observation told her that the bride-to-be would have been a very attractive young woman, had she not been scowling in frustration as she ordered everyone else about. Most of the party looked mortally fed up with her and none more so than the prospective bridegroom. The elderly vicar, a middle-aged, kindly-looking man, was doing his best to calm the situation.
Suddenly the bride-to-be seemed to sense the presence of others. She turned and looked down the aisle at Glen and Jan, resting in the top pew. On seeing the calibre of the new arrivals, her expression turned to one of absolute horror and she loudly exclaimed, ‘What are those people doing here?’
The vicar looked down the aisle before telling her, ‘This is a church. Everyone is welcome here.’
The soon-to-be bridegroom looked severely embarrassed and said to his fiancée, ‘They aren’t doing any harm, love. It’s bitter outside, they’re just having a warm.’
She blurted out, ‘Yes, yes, I can appreciate that, but there are other churches they can choose to shelter in. It doesn’t have to be this one, and certainly not during my wedding rehearsal.’ She eyed the vicar imploringly. ‘My parents could arrive at any minute. My father suffers from bad health, and if my mother thought for one second he was at risk of catching anything she would whip him straight back home, rehearsal or no rehearsal. My parents are all the family I’ve got and if that happened I’d have no one to give me away. Surely in the circumstances you can ban the likes of them from coming in here, just while my rehearsal is taking place tonight.’ She fixed her eyes on her fiancé. ‘Can’t we give them some money and tell them to go and have something to eat . . . a bath even, as I can smell them from here? Please, Neil, you have to get rid of them before my parents arrive.’
Despite the distance between them, Jan had heard every word the young woman said and had never felt so humiliated in all her life. She didn’t know where to hide her face. She felt a hand touch her arm, turned and saw Glen telling her with the look in his eyes that it was time for them to go. Her shoe was back on her foot and she was out of the church door and hurrying down the path back to the crossroads before he had even managed to ease himself out of the pew.
Joining her outside, Glen said matter-of-factly, ‘You’re going to have to grow yourself a thicker skin if you want to survive on the streets. That was mild compared to some of the abuse I’ve had to deal with. Wait until the drunks start spilling out of the pubs. There are always more of them towards Christmas.’ Then he turned in the direction they had been heading and continued walking.
Jan looked after him, horrified. It seemed to her nothing could be worse than what she had just endured. The thought of going through that ever again, or worse, was unthinkable. She had to get herself out of this living hell in which she found herself. But how she would manage that without any means at her disposal was as insoluble problem.
CHAPTER THREE
Back inside the church, Neil Graham, a tall boyish-faced nineteen year old with a short back and sides haircut and a hint of a quiff in front, was looking very pensive. His fiancée, a pretty girl of around eighteen dressed in the height of fashion, in a full red skirt with layers of netting underneath, a wide black belt around her trim waist and a short-sleeved Peter Pan-collared blouse under a pink cardigan with embroidered black flowers down the front, stood deep in conversation with the frustrated-looking vicar, intent on checking that every minute detail of the forthcoming wedding service was dealt with to her satisfaction. Neil gave a deep sigh, a grave expression settling over his face. There was something he had to do, something he should have done a long time ago . . . but each time he thought he had built up the courage, at the last minute it had failed him.
Taking a deep breath, he cupped his fiancée’s elbow and said to her, ‘I need to talk to you, Cait. Now, please.’ Suddenly remembering his manners, he said to the vicar, ‘I do apologise for the
interruption.’
The clergyman looked relieved rather than offended, and indicated that there was no problem.
Tossing back her mane of long blond hair, Caitlyn Thomas responded, ‘Can’t it wait, Neil? I still have a few details I need to discuss with Reverend Harper and . . .’
He said evenly, ‘Cait, you’ve given your instructions to the Reverend on several previous occasions to my knowledge. I’m sure you don’t need to keep going over them with him. Now I do need to speak to you.’ He then asked the clergyman, ‘Is there somewhere private we can go, please?’
‘You’re quite welcome to use the Vestry,’ Reverend Harper told him. Then he took a quick glance at his watch. ‘Er . . . will this take long, Mr Graham? Only we’re already over-running and I have sick parishioners to visit yet.’
Neil assured him, ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’
The rest of the gathering looked on perplexed as he guided a bemused Cait into the Vestry. Once inside, Neil shut the door behind them.
She stared at him expectantly for a moment. When he stared back at her, seemingly tongue-tied, her impatience got the better of her and she snapped, ‘Neil, you said what you had to say to me was urgent, so please get on with it. I have a mountain of things still to do and the wedding is only seven days away.’
He had been experiencing feelings of dread, afraid that yet again he was going to back down and not tell her what he knew he needed to, but Cait’s reminding him that their wedding was only a few days away hardened his resolve. He blurted out, ‘I can’t do this any more, Cait.’
She stared at him, utterly shocked, before smiling brightly and telling him, ‘Oh, goodness, for a moment there I thought you were telling me you didn’t want to marry me! But you mean you can’t do any more of this rehearsal tonight as you’ve arranged to meet your mates in the pub. Surely they’ll understand why you’re late, though, considering the circumstances. It’s not like it’s your stag night, is it? That’s not until next Friday. And while we’re on the subject, Neil, please make sure those mates of yours don’t let you drink too . . .’