for home.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Just a little diversion,’ he said.
Grace was tired this week. Tired of witnessing even more divisions within her family, tired of having to watch her tongue in case she said something to inflame Gordon. She wanted to take the opportunity of a weekend with no babysitting Sable to have long baths, a nice glass of wine or two and a few hours’ quality reading time. She felt her batteries badly needed a serious charge-up. ‘Gordon, where are we going?’ she asked again wearily.
‘Never you mind,’ said Gordon with that incredibly annoying smile.
‘Gordon?’
Gordon didn’t say anything and flicked on the right indicator as he approached the roundabout which told Grace they were taking the motorway south.
Anna stood on the railway platform, heart thumping in her chest. The weirdo in black, thankfully, wasn’t there. Maybe she should have got any impending attack over and done with. She visualized a touching hospital scene where Tony rushed to her bedside and gently stroked the part of her skull which the stranger had stoved in with an axe. He would pledge undying love and come back to care for her and dab her face with cool flannels and kisses.
The barriers dropped, the train came down the track and Anna’s hold on the new rape alarm in her pocket relaxed. A cool breath puffed onto the back of her neck. She turned to find the man in black behind her, his eyes locking with hers. She saw fangs, clear as day. She was going to feature in the Chronicle as the first woman in Barnsley to become undead, she thought, then everything went swirly and, finally, black. His gloved hands came out and caught her as she fainted.
Chapter 18
Anna came to seconds later, though it felt much longer, with a crowd gathering around her, the strange man cradling her in his arms on the ground and some silly cow running up and down saying, ‘Help, someone phone the emergency services! There’s a woman having a heart attack!’
She remembered being helped to her feet, then the embarrassment set in as her consciousness swam back to the surface. She tried to look compos mentis in the same way a totally drunk person attempts sobriety, with about as much success. She kept saying, ‘I’m fine, I’m fine,’ over and over again. But she heard that daft woman shriek, ‘You should have left her lying down. She needs a hospital. I’m St John’s Ambulance trained. I know these things.’
But then Anna’s brain seemed to fast forward a little and the next thing was that she was being led over to the station café by some nice lady in an apron for a cup of tea with lots of sugar in it. Fast forward again some more seconds and Anna was sitting in a quiet corner, being pushed down on a seat by gentle hands. And Fang-man was sitting opposite her. She did a double-take and shook her head. Did vampires drink Yorkshire Tea, because this one did – and rip open and offer Cadbury’s shortcakes? She couldn’t remember that from her Bram Stoker edition.
‘Are you diabetic?’ he asked in a deep voice with a fierce accent reminiscent of black forests and dark castles in East Europe while he proffered the chocolate biscuits.
‘No,’ said Anna. ‘Well, I wasn’t this morning anyway.’
‘Then you passed out solely because of fear of me,’ the man said. ‘I am so sorry.’ He had pale skin and very black hair, past shoulder length and tied at the back. There wasn’t a hint of grey in it but it didn’t look dyed at all. His beard was the same colour, a thin, expert line that swept over a strong chin and square jaw.
‘I’m sure it’s not entirely your fault I fainted,’ said Anna, omitting to add that she couldn’t remember the last decent meal she had eaten and as a consequence she’d been having moments of light-headedness.
‘I have been waiting for you,’ the man went on. He had very blue eyes, deep as lagoons, with golden flecks in them, very odd in an attractive way. They were fringed
‘Where are we going?’
‘Just a little diversion,’ he said.
Grace was tired this week. Tired of witnessing even more divisions within her family, tired of having to watch her tongue in case she said something to inflame Gordon. She wanted to take the opportunity of a weekend with no babysitting Sable to have long baths, a nice glass of wine or two and a few hours’ quality reading time. She felt her batteries badly needed a serious charge-up. ‘Gordon, where are we going?’ she asked again wearily.
‘Never you mind,’ said Gordon with that incredibly annoying smile.
‘Gordon?’
Gordon didn’t say anything and flicked on the right indicator as he approached the roundabout which told Grace they were taking the motorway south.
Anna stood on the railway platform, heart thumping in her chest. The weirdo in black, thankfully, wasn’t there. Maybe she should have got any impending attack over and done with. She visualized a touching hospital scene where Tony rushed to her bedside and gently stroked the part of her skull which the stranger had stoved in with an axe. He would pledge undying love and come back to care for her and dab her face with cool flannels and kisses.
The barriers dropped, the train came down the track and Anna’s hold on the new rape alarm in her pocket relaxed. A cool breath puffed onto the back of her neck. She turned to find the man in black behind her, his eyes locking with hers. She saw fangs, clear as day. She was going to feature in the Chronicle as the first woman in Barnsley to become undead, she thought, then everything went swirly and, finally, black. His gloved hands came out and caught her as she fainted.
Chapter 18
Anna came to seconds later, though it felt much longer, with a crowd gathering around her, the strange man cradling her in his arms on the ground and some silly cow running up and down saying, ‘Help, someone phone the emergency services! There’s a woman having a heart attack!’
She remembered being helped to her feet, then the embarrassment set in as her consciousness swam back to the surface. She tried to look compos mentis in the same way a totally drunk person attempts sobriety, with about as much success. She kept saying, ‘I’m fine, I’m fine,’ over and over again. But she heard that daft woman shriek, ‘You should have left her lying down. She needs a hospital. I’m St John’s Ambulance trained. I know these things.’
But then Anna’s brain seemed to fast forward a little and the next thing was that she was being led over to the station café by some nice lady in an apron for a cup of tea with lots of sugar in it. Fast forward again some more seconds and Anna was sitting in a quiet corner, being pushed down on a seat by gentle hands. And Fang-man was sitting opposite her. She did a double-take and shook her head. Did vampires drink Yorkshire Tea, because this one did – and rip open and offer Cadbury’s shortcakes? She couldn’t remember that from her Bram Stoker edition.
‘Are you diabetic?’ he asked in a deep voice with a fierce accent reminiscent of black forests and dark castles in East Europe while he proffered the chocolate biscuits.
‘No,’ said Anna. ‘Well, I wasn’t this morning anyway.’
‘Then you passed out solely because of fear of me,’ the man said. ‘I am so sorry.’ He had pale skin and very black hair, past shoulder length and tied at the back. There wasn’t a hint of grey in it but it didn’t look dyed at all. His beard was the same colour, a thin, expert line that swept over a strong chin and square jaw.
‘I’m sure it’s not entirely your fault I fainted,’ said Anna, omitting to add that she couldn’t remember the last decent meal she had eaten and as a consequence she’d been having moments of light-headedness.
‘I have been waiting for you,’ the man went on. He had very blue eyes, deep as lagoons, with golden flecks in them, very odd in an attractive way. They were fringed
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