Driving Me Mad Read online

  Suddenly I saw something, something that looked almost familiar. Well, it was familiar, but something I hadn’t seen for the last two and a half hours. It was light, and it was coming from a house. Out in the middle of nowhere, I was approaching a house. It might shelter a person, or people, or a family with a dog and a cat and a phone and directions. I no longer cared that the person living at the house might be out to get me. By this time I was willing to take my chances. I wouldn’t care if the dwelling was the Bates Motel and Norman offered me a shower, I was going to knock on the door and ask for help. Of course I would take my wheel brace with me, hidden inside my jacket. That was a given.

  Instead of feeling scared, a bubble of excitement rushed through me. It wasn’t from anticipating the duel to the death between me and a could-be attacker, wielding our weapons for changing tyres. What had me excited was just the thought of getting back to light and life. I slipped the car into gear and moved forward, towards the yellow glow a few hundred yards up the road.

  Gravel crunching under my tyres as I pulled into the driveway of the house gave me a bit of reassurance. It was the outside light I had seen, but the lights downstairs were also on. At least I wouldn’t have to wake someone up to ask for help, unless they had fallen asleep with the lights on. If that was the case, they should be happy I was about to save them from a huge electricity bill at the end of the quarter, and so should welcome me with open arms instead of a shotgun. Yep. That was my fucked up reasoning to help me keep calm.

  Alas, it wasn’t working. As soon as I stepped out of my car, I felt someone watching me. I still had to get my wheel brace from the boot of my car, but that idea was losing some of its lustre. Bending over into the blackness of the boot to rummage around for it would leave me open and exposed to anyone who was watching. I’d seen Silence of the Lambs. I was well aware that an attacker could thwack a woman on the back of the head, shove her into the back of a van, and drive off to claim her skin as his trophy.

  My overactive imagination was back full force. I didn’t have a van; I had a Mazda 3.

  Decision made, I grabbed my keys and my handbag, sucked in a breath and slammed the door, then made a run for the welcoming light on the porch. I didn’t look about to see if there was a doorbell. My fist went straight to the wood and hammered hard. I couldn’t seem to stand in one place, couldn’t seem to just wait innocently for the person in the house to open the door. I was too busy checking my perimeters, looking for someone sneaking up on me.

  Hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled. The scream I had been saving for that very moment seemed to lodge in my throat and refuse to budge. I had to get it out before the person assaulting me covered my mouth and silenced me forever.

  I was turned roughly, and the same hands that had grabbed me now slipped around my shoulders and pulled me more fully into a body. Warmth blanketed me, along with a distinct sense of protection.

  How could I feel protected when I was being manhandled by a stranger? A stranger with breasts and a strong grip. A stranger who was shaking just as hard as I was.

  I knew that if I was to save my life, I should kick, punch, bite, and scratch this person, but I couldn’t seem to make myself move away from the cocoon that surrounded me. The stranger’s hands slipped down my back in reassuring strokes, then one lifted to the back of my head and pulled me more securely against the softness of her chest.

  “I knew you would come. I knew it!” The female voice above me was fraught with evident agony. “God, I’ve looked everywhere for you! Everywhere.”

  Me? Looked everywhere for me? And what did she mean by she knew I would come? I’d never been in this area before. I think I would have remembered if—

  A soft kiss on the top of my head stopped my thoughts. The woman gently kissed my hair again before nuzzling my cheek.

  This wasn’t right, not right at all. But strangely, it felt right. It felt right to be held in the arms of a stranger at gone one in the morning, in a place I didn’t know. In her arms, I felt safe, like whoever had been watching me from the woods couldn’t hurt me now that she was holding me close.

  My eyes fluttered closed and I nestled into the contact, inhaling a scent that seemed familiar. I didn’t care that I didn’t know her, didn’t even know what she looked like. All that mattered was that she keep holding me.

  “Come on, Ellen. Let’s get you inside.”

  Who was Ellen?

  “You’re shivering.”

  The woman drew away slightly to lead me inside the house. Still on the porch, I looked around. Maybe Ellen was the person I had thought was watching me. But I couldn’t see anyone there other than me and the unidentified woman.

  “What’s up, Ellen?”

  Her soft voice sounded concerned, as if it was directed to someone who was acting strangely.

  The light dawned. Did the woman think I was Ellen? Considering there was a light right outside the door, I didn’t think it was dark enough for her to have mistaken me for someone else.

  I twisted slightly and she released me from her grasp. Taking a step back, I turned and faced the woman. The light behind her cast a shadow over her face. “Who’s Ellen?” I asked.

  She took a small step forward, then faltered. Her head cocked to the side, and she appeared to absorb every aspect of me. Given the tilt of her head, I could see the outline of a firm jaw, a jaw that was moving as if it was chewing words, but no sound came out.

  “I’m Rebecca.” She seemed to stiffen when she heard my name, so I thought I would elaborate. “Rebecca Gibson.”

  She stepped backwards, as if she was trying to back into the house. Not without me she wasn’t. I took a step forwards. “Sorry. I…well…I’m lost and…”

  “Rebecca?”

  “Gibson. Yes.”

  For each step she took backwards, I took one forwards. Soon we were both standing in her hallway. Beautiful, dark brown eyes looked into mine, quizzical brown eyes framed by long lashes. They showed confusion, as if what they were seeing wasn’t real. My own eyes drifted down a straight, defined nose and settled on full red lips, parted slightly as if they were readying themselves to allow words to come forth.

  “I’m sorry to impose on you at such a late hour, but…”

  Her shoulders slumped before straightening again. “Not a problem. Rebecca.”

  Why did she feel the need to separate my name from her statement?

  “Come inside. You must be freezing.” Her voice had lost its initial softness, and there was a distinct edge to it now, almost business like.

  She moved past me and grabbed the door handle. Before she closed the door, she stared out into the darkness again, then sighed as she clicked the door into place and attached the chain.

  “Come in here by the fire.” She walked past me and disappeared into a room to the right. I shrugged and followed her.

  There was an open fireplace in the room, the flames long gone but the embers glowing fiercely. The furniture was in keeping with the age of the house, classically rustic and well worn. My hostess was standing beside the armchair closest to the fire, and she gestured for me to sit. As I moved past her, my arm brushed hers. A spark seemed to ignite between us, and she jerked away with a gasp.

  As I sat, she hurried from the room, and I found myself alone again. The ticking of a clock seemed to be the only noise I could hear, and my eyes searched it out. One thirty-four. Shit. No wonder she was pissed at me. It certainly wasn’t etiquette to knock on someone’s door at such a late hour, especially since it was apparent she had been expecting someone else.

  The memory of how it had felt to be held in her arms flitted into my mind. I couldn’t shake the feeling of belonging there, however strange that might sound. It wasn’t just the feel of her, the protection I felt, or even the smell of her. It was so much more than that. But whatever it was, I couldn’t say.

  My eyes flicked back to the clock. One thirty-nine. Where had she gone? I looked around the room—a leather sofa with throws draped over
it, a coffee table littered with magazines. Might as well occupy my time doing something other than noting the décor. If I didn’t, I would probably start rooting through the drawers of her sideboard. I reached out and pulled one towards me.

  Picture Post magazine, October 31, 1953. I couldn’t believe I was looking at a magazine that was sixty years old. It didn’t appear to be that old, although the picture on the front was not exactly worthy of Hello magazine. It was far too dated for that. London smog? Nurses? 4D or 4 pennies—the price, that was—before decimalisation.

  “I thought you might need a cup of tea.”

  The sound of the woman’s voice made me start, and the magazine flew from my hands and onto the floor.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you jump.”

  An awkward moment, that. I had been nosing around her collectable magazines and got caught, then tossed it into the air and ruffled the buggering thing up.

  Shooting out of the chair, I went to snatch it up, but due to my haste, I felt a page tear slightly. Fuck. And fuck again. Carefully—a little late for that—I lifted the magazine and offered it to her as if it was a sacrifice.

  The woman just stared at me, a tray laden with teacups, sugar, and a teapot and milk jug balanced in her hands.

  “I…well… God, I’m sorry.”

  A laugh warmed her cool façade. “Don’t worry. I’ve already read it.”

  Considering it was a vintage piece, I opened my mouth to apologise again, but she shook her head. “Just throw it to the side, will you? I need to set this down.”

  I didn’t toss it. I placed it neatly on the floor underneath the table. A couple of minutes passed as she was finalising the tea. After she’d poured, and I had accepted milk but no sugar, she settled into the seat opposite mine.

  “So, Rebecca, you were saying you’re lost,” she prompted.

  I sipped my tea, wincing at the heat of it before placing my cup and saucer onto the table. Before I could answer her, she spoke again.

  “Annabel Howell.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My name. I thought it was past time I introduced myself.” Annabel leaned back into the armchair and raised her cup to her lips, but she didn’t drink. She just stared at me over the rim, as if she was assessing me.

  I was being scrutinised. It wouldn’t have been so bad if her eyes weren’t so intense, weren’t so beautiful, but I felt as if I was under a microscope and she could see every single one of my shortcomings. A blush crept up my neck and spread over my face. I never blushed. Being a sales rep demanded that skill. So why was I blushing now?

  “Erm.” Good call, Rebecca—three letters and a little intonation. Could work on the pace, though. “Yes. I… Well, I’m lost.” Jesus. Why did I repeat the only thing apart from my name that she already knew?

  As if she was aware I was a moron, a smile flitted over Annabel’s face before she sipped her tea. The thought of her smirking at my unease raised my hackles. I was tired and pissed off, and my headache was still clinging to the inside of my skull. The blush receded.

  “I was travelling up from Cambridge to Morley and took a wrong turn somewhere along the line.” Annabel tilted her head as if indicating I should continue. “I’m supposed to be at Breadsall Priory for a convention in the morning.”

  “Breadsall Priory? Do you know the Haslams?”

  “Haslams?”

  “The owners.”

  Why on earth would I know the owners of the bloody Marriott? I laughed. She glared. I laughed again. “Not really, no. Although I have contemplated adding them to Facebook.”

  Her face scrunched as if in thought, and I believed she would laugh with me. But no. She just looked pissed off.

  “You’re not too far from the Priory. About ten miles.” She leaned forward and placed her cup on the table, her eyes fixed on mine. “But I wouldn’t advise driving at night. Not here.”

  It seemed as if Annabel wanted to scare me, and I was fully expecting tales of goblins and will-o’-the-wisps. I felt like laughing again, but thought better of it.

  “The trees block the view of the road in parts, so it’s wisest to travel in the day.”

  Maybe she was just being practical.

  Annabel kept looking at me, staring into my face. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable, and yet not, if you know what I mean. Soft eyes scrutinised my features. They dwelled on each aspect of my face for what seemed an interminable amount of time. All the while she was looking at me, I couldn’t help but be amazed by her natural beauty—the finely chiselled jaw, the high cheekbones, the way the glow from the fire seemed to dance over her skin and enhance each line and muscle. I felt as if I knew her, had known her, but I couldn’t say from where.

  “I feel as if we’ve already met.” It wasn’t me who spoke; it was her. “Have you been to Kirk Langley before?”

  Her voice was soft, lilting, almost addictively so. There seemed to be an aura around her that was not caused by the fire. The moisture in my mouth evaporated, and I swallowed a couple of times before remembering I had a cup of tea. A quick sip, a wince at the heat of it, and I felt able to answer.

  “I don’t even know where I am, never mind having been here before.”

  Her eyes were riveted on my mouth, and I licked my lips in reflex. She did the same. Then it seemed to occur to her what she had done. Her face froze, her eyes widened slightly in acknowledgement, and then she slowly leaned back in her chair.

  Back to the sound of the ticking clock. The atmosphere was charged with something indefinable, but also expectant. There were so many questions I wanted to ask her, but for some reason I didn’t feel as if I could. I wanted to ask who Ellen was and why Annabel had thought I was her, but that would have seemed as if I was prying into her private life.

  “Who’s Ellen?” What the fuck? Couldn’t I take my own advice of it being something that a person didn’t bring up?

  Annabel’s eyes met mine, and I saw a flicker of pain surface before being buried once again.

  “She’s my friend.” Her voice was calm, but also guarded.

  I couldn’t think of a single time I had ever greeted my friends the way Annabel had greeted me at the door, though she’d thought I was someone else at the time. Come to think of it, I didn’t think I had ever greeted any of my girlfriends with such fervour. If they went AWOL, they usually stayed AWOL. I didn’t know whether they were coming back, probably because I didn’t care if they did. I certainly didn’t “look everywhere” for them, like Annabel had looked for Ellen.

  It was obvious that Ellen was more than Annabel’s friend, but I wasn’t going to push it. Annabel’s relationship with the other woman was none of my business. After several moments of uncomfortable silence, I stood to leave. I had definitely outstayed my welcome. “I think I’d better take my chances at getting to the hotel.”

  Annabel shot to her feet, her hands reaching out to me. “No! No. Stay. I insist.”

  The sheer panic on her face made my heart clench. Didn’t she want to stay there alone? Nah. That couldn’t be it.

  “It really isn’t safe for you to go at this time of night.”

  “But…”

  She quickly moved around the table and grabbed my arm, and I could feel the heat of her, smell her scent. It was intoxicating.

  Looking up, I met her eyes. I had thought they were beautiful before, but I was wrong. Up close, her eyes enthralled me. Brown, so very brown, and deep and soulful and all-consuming. I believed I could see my future within their depths.

  “I insist.”

  Two tiny words that were tender, inviting, magical. I couldn’t answer her, just nodded my agreement, my heart pounding in my chest.

  Annabel released a breath, and the softness of it touched my skin and sent sparks through me. She was still holding my arm, as if she believed I would disappear if she released it.

  “You can sleep in my bed.”

  Huh? Even to me that sounded a little bit forward.

  “I’ll sle
ep down here.”

  Her hand continued to rest on my arm. I looked at it, and then looked back into her eyes. They held a question, and I answered without it being asked.

  “Thank you, but…” She squinted as she waited for me to continue. “If I do stay, I’ll sleep down here.” Annabel looked as if she was going to decline, but I beat her to it. “Now it is my turn to insist.”

  She pursed her lips and tilted her head to one side, as if she was assessing me again, then a sigh slipped through her lips, followed by a single nod of her head.

  Her hand left my arm, and I missed the heat of it immediately, desperately missed the contact of her skin on the sleeve of my sweater. Annabel took a step back, her eyes glancing away from mine before returning to devour me again. In my peripheral vision, I saw her hand stretch towards me, then drop to her side. Her eyes closed so deliberately, it seemed as if they did so in slow motion. She kept them closed for a long moment before opening them. Annabel inhaled deeply, held it, and then exhaled in one long breath.

  All the while, I was transfixed.

  “I’ll get you some blankets.”

  And she was gone, and I was left wondering what on earth had just happened.

  I heard her on the stairs, thuds against wooden slats. I listened to her quick footsteps across what must have been a bare wooden landing. And all the time I just stood there, just bloody stood there as if my feet were nailed to the floor.

  What had just happened? What had been going through her mind as she touched my arm, held my gaze, closed her eyes and held the image of something only she could see inside? We had never met before, but it seemed to me that I had known her before, known her as something more than a woman who had been kind enough to offer me shelter. By the way she was acting, I had a feeling she felt the same way.

  “Here you go.” Annabel was back, arms full of blankets and pillows. “It’ll get colder in here when the fire is banked.” She placed the stack onto the sofa, her back to me.

  I didn’t comment, just watched her shoulders working as they arranged the linens over the place where I was to sleep.