The soft cushion of snow on which she lay saved her from the hard, frozen ground, so she was not uncomfortable. Dreamily, scenes from her past drifted through her mind: the sunshine of Nice on the Promenade des Anglais; a wonderful dinner which she had had with Rowley at the Tour d’Argent in Paris; his first heart attack in the swimming pool at Venice; that awful wait she had had on the railway station when she had run away from home, fearing every moment that Pa would catch her; that fantastic night at the Empress on Victoria Island when Big Bear had shown her how a strong man could really satisfy a woman; and Eric, dear Eric. If only he had not proved so honourable when she had tempted him. At least for once in her life she would have known perfect happiness.
The blizzard had ceased. The wind no longer howled through the trees. The gently-falling snow had covered her, so that anyone passing by would now have seen her as only a mound in the carpet of whiteness. She made no attempt to throw the snow off. She felt warm, comfortable and not unhappy. At length she drifted off to sleep.
During the day her fears had spurred her on to exertions that would have tried even a strong man, so when she did drop off it was into the deep sleep of exhaustion, and she did not wake until full daylight had come. It was not snowing and above the glistening white tree tops the sky was a cloudless blue.
She did not feel cold, but was conscious of a pleasant numbness in her legs and arms. It made her reluctant to move, and for several minutes she was tempted to doze off again. But suddenly the realisation that she was lying under a pall of snow rang an alarm bell in her brain. It must be such mental apathy which led to people who slept in the snow never rousing properly, and dying where they lay.
Hurriedly she sat up, shook her shoulders and kicked until she had cast off the white shroud that encased her. Opening her case, she took out the flagon of rum and gulped down several mouthfuls. The strong spirit swiftly brought feeling back to her throat, chest and stomach, but her limbs remained heavy and there seemed no response when she flexed her toes. Seized by panic that her feet might have become frozen, she grasped the nearby tree-trunk and pulled herself up by it. As she let go, she staggered, but managed to recover her balance; then for some minutes stamped about and flailed her arms until pins and needles in her feet told her that the circulation was restored.
Sitting down again she hungrily demolished what remained of the chocolate and biscuits, took another swig of rum and repacked in the case the extra garments she had used through the night to help protect her from the cold, but keeping on her spare pair of briefs.
As she rewound her wrist watch, she saw that it was a little after nine o’clock. Fearfully she wondered what the day would bring. It was over twenty-four hours since she had had a proper meal, and then only an egg, toast and marmalade for her breakfast, so she felt half famished and badly needed hot food to keep up her strength. If she failed to get it within the next few hours she might feel unable to go any further, and another night in this accursed forest would prove the end of her. She could only pray that another blizzard would not blow up and impede her progress. The sun again gave her roughly the direction of the east. Resolved to make the best of the going while it was good, she picked up her case and set off.
Her long sleep had restored her normal buoyant energy. For two hours, with only three short rests, she kept up a steady pace. Striking another river which was too broad to cross, she followed its course until it flowed into a large lake. On the far side there was an opening in the trees with, beyond it, another tree-covered slope. As she halted for a moment on the shore of the lake, to her unbounded joy she saw a car driven at high speed pass across the further shore. It instantly told her that there must be a road between the lake and the distant slope.
Exultantly, her hunger and the police momentarily forgotten, she clapped her gloved hands and laughed aloud. Another quarter of an hour, striding over the crisp crust of snow round the lake shore, and she reached the road. It was broad and macadamed, so must be a main highway. Impatiently she waited at the side until a vehicle came along that would give her a lift. But twenty minutes elapsed before one came in sight. It was a six-ton lorry. She waved, and the driver brought it to a halt within a few yards of her.
As he leaned from his cab, his face showed astonishment as he took in her mink coat and toque, her lovely face, fine, tall figure and the obvious fact that she was a lady; then he grinned, showing an ugly gap in his front teeth, and asked, ‘Want a lift, Missy?’
She smiled. ‘Please. I got lost in the forest. If you could drop me off at the first town you get to, I’d be grateful.’
His grin broadened, ‘For nowt, or you goin’ ter pay me?’
‘Oh, I’m quite willing to pay,’ she replied promptly.
‘Give us yer bag an’ hop in then.’
Two minutes later she was sitting beside him in the cab, and the lorry was on the move again. He was wearing a bearskin cap, from under the rim of which protruded a ragged fringe of yellow hair. His face was lean, with a big, flattish nose and a long, unshaven chin. She judged him to be about forty. After a few minutes he asked:
‘How come you got yourself lost?’
While waiting at the roadside she had got a story ready. ‘I came up here with a friend who has a chalet for fishing. We had a violent quarrel and this morning I walked out on him.’
She had decided against saying that it was a husband she had walked out on, as this would hardly have sounded plausible. However violent their quarrel, it was unlikely that a wife would have left a husband to go off into the forest. She would have waited until they had got back to their home, and she could leave with all her things.
The driver considered that for a while, then said, ‘Surprisin’ that a feller shouldn’t have treated a pretty girl like you decent. Guess yer must ‘ave played ’im up mighty bad fer ‘im ter let yer go off on yer own in this sorta country, with snow on the ground an’ all.’
She shrugged. ‘I was a fool to let him bring me up here, but he told me there would be other people staying. There weren’t, and I wasn’t standing for the sort of thing that happened last night. That’s why I left. He wouldn’t have let me if he’d known I meant to. I cleared out this morning early, while he was still asleep. I had to go without breakfast, so I’m terribly hungry. Have you got anything to eat?’
‘Yes, plenty. But yer’ll have to wait a while till we can find a place where I can light a fire. Got to heat the vittles up.’
For eight or ten miles they drove on in silence, only occasionally passing or being passed by other vehicles. Then he spotted a broken-down shack not far from the road, beside a small lake, and pulled the lorry up on the snow-covered grass at the edge of the forest.
From under the driver’s seat he got out a rusty tin box and, with her walking beside him, carried it to the abandoned shack. About a third of the roof had fallen in, but the earth floor in the larger part was free of snow and at the far end there was a fireplace.
She now saw that he was a tall, powerful man with gangling limbs. Opening the box he took from it a frying pan, a saucepan and several packages of food. With the dexterity of long practice, he smashed up some pieces of wood that had fallen from the roof, pushed two paraffin firelighters under them and soon had a good fire going. Having crammed the saucepan full of snow, he put it on the fire to melt, then asked:
‘What’s yer choice: cod or tripe?’
When she said she preferred fish, he unwrapped a large cod steak, then took from other packages onions, potatoes and a loaf of bread. As he put the fish and vegetables in the saucepan, he said, ‘I don’t go fer char, but I can do yer a beer.’
‘Thanks, I’d like one,’ she replied. She did not much care for beer—the only form of it she had drunk for years had been Black Velvet—stout mixed with champagne—but at that moment any drink was welcome, and she was so famished that she could hardly keep her eyes off the bubbling pot.
He opened two cans and they settled themselves on rotting logs in front of the
fire. Now that he no longer had to keep his mind on driving he became more talkative, and in answer to his questions she made up a story about herself. Having already indicated that she was not married, it would hardly have been plausible to account for her expensive clothes by telling him that she lived at home, as it was unlikely that rich parents would have allowed their daughter to go off to the Rockies alone with a man; so she said she was an actress and had just finished a tour with a company in Vancouver.
When the meal was cooked, she opened the tin box expecting to find plates, but there were none, and only a single knife, fork and spoon. Picking up the frying pan, he poured some of the hot water from the saucepan into it, then spooned out half the fish and vegetables and set it down in front of her, remarking: ‘Yer can ‘ave the cutlery. I use ’em only fer cutting up meat an’ such. Fingers is good enough fer me.’ And the moment the water had cooled sufficiently he began to cram chunks of the food into his ugly mouth. Hunger drove her to eat her share of the mess almost as quickly as he did. Even the unpeeled potatoes tasted good, and she followed his example in mopping up the fishy, onion-flavoured water with chunks of bread.
When they had finished, he gave a loud belch, sat back, regarded her critically for a few moments, then said: ‘Now, what about the payment wot yer promised me?’
Opening her bag, she took out a small roll of dollar bills, smiled and asked, ‘How much are you going to charge me for the ride?’
His small, greenish, heavily-lidded eyes ran over her from her now tousled, light bronze, curly hair, good bust and hips under the fur coat that she had tightly round her, down to the shapely legs that protruded beneath it. Then they came back to her face: the big eyes with their long lashes, fine straight nose and wide, beautifully-shaped mouth. Displaying the ugly gap in his front teeth, he gave a great guffaw and cried:
‘Be yer age, girl! It ain’t dollars I want. Yer old enough ter know that. Yer got other goods yer goin’ ter pay me with.’
Chapter 14
The Price of a Lift
Linda’s eyes widened in sudden fear. For a moment she could hardly credit that she had heard aright. Back in that now misty past, when she had sweated in her father’s market garden, she had heard it said by her older school friends that their still older sisters thumbed lifts and paid for them with kisses; or, if they liked the man and by habit had already become permissive, let him go the whole way in some secluded spot.
But that this unwashed human animal should have thought for one moment that she would submit to his caresses seemed to her almost unbelievable. Revolted as she was at the very idea, and not a little scared by the knowledge that probably no other human beings were within miles of them, she managed to keep her voice level, as she said:
‘If you mean what I think you mean, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. I’m not that sort of a girl.’
‘Come orf it!’ he retorted with a frown. ‘Maybe I ain’t the class of gent yer used ter going with. But I’m as good a stallion as they come. Plenty of girls ’ave tol’ me that. It’s the one thing women really care about in a man. An’ don’t give me no gup about yer ’avin’ yer monthlies.’
‘I tell you I’m not the sort of girl you think,’ Linda retorted with disgust.
‘Yer kiddin’. You’re an actress, ain’t yer? All them girls in shows is tarts, or good as. Leastways they ’as to up with their ’eels any time the manager feels like ’avin’ a bit, else they’d lose their jobs. My young sister is in cabaret an’ she tol me so.’
‘That may be true about girls in night spots, but it’s not about girls on the stage. Not now, anyway. These days even in musical comedy most of the chorus girls come from respectable families, and would never allow themselves to be blackmailed into sleeping with men they didn’t like.’
‘Oh, I ain’t sayin’ you wasn’t brought up respectable. Anyone could see you got class. But that don’t mean nothin’. ‘Ow about the gent yer was shackin’ up with till lars’ night? You says yer walked out on ’im. It don’t stand to reason any woman the likes of you would set off ter ’itch-’ike through the forest with it under snow. It’s my guess that yer gent’s old woman turned up unexpected an’ threw yer out on yer arse.’
Linda had gone very pale, and her heart was hammering rapidly. With a steady stare her big brown eyes were fixed on those of her companion. Every moment she found his thatch of yellow hair, loose, gap-toothed mouth and long chin covered with stubbly bristles more repulsive. Only one car had passed along the road while they had been eating. Even if another came along within the next few minutes, the odds were all against its occupants hearing her shout for help. The memory of the night she had been raped by the young schoolmaster came back to her. This would be far worse. If she continued to refuse him, she felt certain that he would force her. Yet nothing—nothing—would induce her to submit.
Could she possibly escape? If she could evade the clutch he would make at her, there was a good chance of her getting through the door. But he would be after her in a flash. Strong and long-legged as she was, his legs were longer. He would catch her before she had covered a dozen yards, and haul her back.
Taking her silence for indecision, he suddenly grinned and said, ‘I know what’s bitin’ yer. You’re pernickety, that’s what. Dames like you are used ter feather beds. Don’t like the idea of yer bum on this ’ere earth floor. Well, maybe you’ll find it a bit ’ard with me on top of yer. But you’ll soon ferget abart that. ‘Sight better than a springy mattress fer the game we’re goin’ ter play. Soon as I’ve ’ad yer you’ll be askin’ fer more.’
‘Perhaps you are right,’ she said quietly. ‘But first I’d like another beer.’
He grinned again. ‘That’s better, kiddo. Glad you’ve got sense enough ter take it willin’. The big one I’ve got ’ull make you ’it the roof. Pity it’s so cold. I’d like ter have ’ad yer naked. That figure you got gave me ’ot pants the moment I saw yer. But we’ll ’ave ter make do with yer jus’ takin’ orf yer drawers.’
As he was speaking he turned round to get another can of beer from the tin box behind him. Jumping to her feet, Linda sprang past him and dashed out of the door. Yelling an oath, he swung round, dropped the can and bounded after her. With every ounce of speed she could muster, she raced through the trees toward the road. Half crazy with fear she heard him pounding in pursuit. In little more than a minute he grabbed her by the arm and swung her round. His small green eyes were blazing with anger and he snarled:
‘So yer’d bilk me, would yer? You bloody stuck-up bitch. I’ll larn yer fer tryin’ ter trick me. Just see if I don’t. You got it comin’ ter yer, an’ no mistake. Said I’d like to ’ave yer naked, didn’t I? Well, so I will. Strip yer of every rag an ’ave yer do a dance fer me, till yer teeth chatters in yer’ead.’
As they glared at each other, the icy air turned their breath to steam and, although she had eaten onions herself, they were evidently his regular diet, for he stank of them. Pulling back her head, she gasped, ‘Let me go! Let me go, you brute!’ But, with a spate of curses, he began to pull her back to the shack.
She cursed, screamed and pleaded, all in vain. Linda was strong for a woman, but he was much stronger. Finding resistance useless, she fell to her knees in an attempt to check him. He gave a harsh laugh and, seizing one of her wrists in a huge, knobbly hand, dragged her behind him through the snow. She strove to bite the hand that held her, but could not reach it.
Once inside the shack, he let go. As she staggered to her feet, he slapped her hard across the face and said with a leer, ‘Now fer it. I’ll ‘ave yer first while you’re good an’ warm, then we’ll ‘ave them fine togs off an’ yer’ll do a jig fer me. Lie dahn on the floor an’ get yer drawers orf.’
Hysterically she screamed at him, ‘I won’t! I won’t! I’ll kill you first.’
With an ugly laugh, he grasped her shoulders, kicked her legs from under her and threw her on the floor. Next moment he was on top of her.
For a moment the impact of his heavy body drove the breath out of her. As she lay supine, his face came down on hers. The bristles on his chin rasped her skin. He glued his mouth to hers, licking at it avidly. She grabbed a handful of his coarse yellow hair and forced his head away. He shook it free, buried his face in her neck, sucked-it then bit her. As she screamed he jerked his head around and his wet lips slobbered over her mouth again. The stench of the sweat on his unwashed body was so repulsive that her stomach heaved. Frantically she clawed with her fingers at his face. He seized her hands, forced them together to one side of her head, then imprisoned them both in his left hand. She strove desperately to free them, but his grip on two of her fingers and one thumb was too strong. Lowering his free right hand, he thrust it up under her skirt and grabbed a fistful of her knickers, trying to pull them down. Moaning, she squirmed under him. With a sudden wrench he tore part of the silk away, but she was still wearing the extra pair she had put on before going to sleep in the snow. When his hand came up against them, he cursed again, clutched the second pair and tore them open.
With all her remaining strength she pressed her thighs together, and his fumbling hand could make no further progress. Withdrawing it, he knelt up and hit her hard in the stomach with his fist. Winded once more, she gasped and lay still. His hand went under her skirt again, and this time he reached his target. Roughly, he jabbed his fingers at it. Having explored her for a few moments, he drew his hand away, grunted with satisfaction and began to fumble with the buttons of his breeches.
She was still lying limp, with her eyes closed, getting back her breath. As he was having difficulty in undoing the buttons with one hand, and thought she had either fainted or ceased to resist, he released her hands. Her head was turned sideways, and she opened her eyes. They were lying within two feet of the still glowing fire. Her glance lit on a half-burned piece of wood protruding from the embers. Next moment she had seized it and, as he knelt over her, thrust the burning end into his face. She got him in the left eye. With a scream of agony, he fell back off her.
The Strange Story of Linda Lee Page 19