Page 7 of Her Last Walk Home
Gobsmacked, Katie felt like crying. Was she unbelievably lucky to have met a genuinely nice guy? Or was he too good to be true?
Someone else nudged her in the back, and once again she failed to rescue her drink. She watched it drip onto her lap and seep over the counter until Chloe appeared with a cloth, eyeing her intently.
Leaning over, her sister whispered into her ear, ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’
6
If it hadn’t rained, she might never have got into the car with him. He glanced out through the windscreen at the forbidding night-time blackness and the shimmering street lights punctured by silver daggers of rain spearing the earth. Bad night to be out, all right.
She was standing under a tangled wreck of a cheap umbrella while the rain cascaded. So what was he to do but stop and offer her a lift?Shewould be so pleased when he got home.
‘Thanks a million,’ the young woman said, sitting in and shaking so hard that water flew in all directions. She didn’t apologise for the mess she was making, and that irritated him a little. Without looking at him, she glanced at the child seat in the back. It seemed to reassure her. Good. ‘Are you off duty? Your taxi light is off.’
‘Keep meaning to get it fixed, and forgive me, but the wife forgot to take out the child seat.’ He ran a hand over his cultured beard, glad that he’d let it grow.
‘I’ve had a bitch of a night. The wind turned my brolly inside out and I swear to God I was ready to lie down and cry.’
‘And what good would that do?’
She shrugged out of her coat, rolled it up and put it in the footwell. ‘I’m sorry about the water all over your lovely seats.’
An apology at last. Maybe she had some manners after all. ‘They’ll dry out, and so will you.’
He snatched a look, amazed at how pretty she was, despite being bedraggled, wet and flustered. Then he looked at her more closely and a quiver of fear ran down his spine. He surreptitiously tugged his scarf up to his mouth.
She shut the door and the interior light went out. As she snapped on her seat belt, he put the car in gear and took off, slowly.
‘Where will I drop you?’
‘The bridge will do me grand.’ She had her head down, wringing out the leg of her flared jeans, despite less than a moment ago being apologetic for the state she was making of his car. Another tick in the negative column.
‘I can leave you to your door. No charge. You don’t want to get drenched again.’
He thought she might argue, but she said, ‘Do you know Redwood Court?’
‘Sure I do. And you were going to make me leave you at the bridge? Nothing to be afraid of, sweetheart. I’ll even wait until you get inside. Your ma and da might be up waiting for you.’ He was probing, but she didn’t fill in the blanks that might tell him she lived alone or with friends. ‘You in college?’
‘Not at the moment. I was in Maynooth. Commute was a bitch.’
‘Tough all right. No accommodation there?’
‘Too expensive. Can’t afford to return as a mature student.’
‘Bastards get you every which way. This country is a joke.’
‘Suppose so.’
She lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, and he felt he had to fill the space to stop himself reaching out and touching her knee.
‘You don’t look old enough to be a mature student.’ He stopped as the traffic lights turned red at the bridge up ahead. The town was eerily quiet. Anyone who was out must still be in the pubs.
‘I’m twenty-seven,’ she said haughtily. He knew she was lying.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the lights to change. ‘What brought you out tonight?’
‘Just drinks with a friend.’
‘Not much of a friend if they left you to walk home in this.’