A Question of Identity Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Susan Hill
relief walking up the front path it was like heat running through her.
She rang. The sound on the television went off. She waited. No one came to the door. She rang again. After a moment or two, footsteps.
‘Who is it?’
‘Lynne.’
Nothing. Then the door opened a few inches on the chain. She could see her sister’s hand, the side of her head, her shoulder.
‘Hil? It’s me.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Can I come in?’
‘What for?’
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing but then she realised. ‘It’s OK. I’m on my own.’
‘It’s late and Mike’s on a night shift. He’s not here.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything? Let me in, Hil. I’m cold, my foot’s hurt, and I’ve walked miles.’
‘What for? What are you doing here?’
‘I daren’t go home.’
‘For Christ’s sake, are you daft or something? I don’t care if you are my sister, you know what happened today, and it’s all over the news. He murdered three women, Lynne, and how they managed to find him not guilty God only knows. So now he’sa free man and you’re wetting yourself and in your shoes so would I be. I’m sorry for you. Only you’re not coming in and staying here, I’m on my own with the kids and –’
‘He wouldn’t come here.’
‘Of course he’d come here. Where else could you be? He’ll know and he’d come and I’m not having it. Go and check into a B & B.’
‘I haven’t got any money, Hil . . .’
Hilary swore and pushed the door closed again, muttering to her to wait.
‘Here, but that’s it, don’t come back here, Lynne. I’m sorry but I’m not taking the risk. Go on, you’ll get somewhere if you hurry up.’ Her hand, with a twenty-pound note in it, came through the opening.
She stood after the door had closed and the chain and bolts been drawn, the money clenched in her hand. The lights went out downstairs. A low one went on in the bedroom. She looked up, wondering if Hil would change her mind. But she wouldn’t and who could blame her? She was right. It was one place he’d come looking, and Mike was on nights so she was on her own with two kids.
She turned away and began to walk slowly back down the road. Twenty quid wasn’t enough for a night’s B & B, even if she could find one to take her in at this time and without even a toothbrush. Come on.
The main road was deserted. She took off both her shoes now, it was easier than having the strap rub on the raw blister. She walked without thinking, back towards the town, not wanting to put the thought of going home into her mind. Where else? She stumbled, pain shooting up through the sole of her bare foot where she had trodden on a stone.
There was a bus stop, with a half-shelter and an iron seat, and when she sat down in the dark and put her hand on her foot to soothe it, the hand came away wet with blood. Only now did she cry.
The lights of a car washed over her. The car pulled in a few yards ahead. She didn’t need that, some guy on the prowlthinking she was a tart. She got up, about to run, in spite of her foot.
Now it was a torch in her face. ‘Hold on a minute.’
The last puff of energy drained away and she sat down heavily on the bench.
The copper was joined by his mate. ‘Are you all right, love?’
‘No,’ Lynne said. ‘Since you ask.’
They could have done anything, quizzed her for soliciting, checked her for drugs, asked to see ID, anything at all. What they actually did was put her in the back of the patrol car and take her to the Crofton A & E. It was empty apart from a mother and child who went into a cubicle as Lynne arrived.
No one seemed to have recognised her, not the policemen, nor the nurse who cleaned up her foot or the doctor who stitched it. One of the coppers got her a cup of tea from the machine.
The radio in the car was yattering to itself but apparently no one wanted these two.
‘Right, we’ll take you home and see you in. Got any painkillers? Used to give you those at the
She rang. The sound on the television went off. She waited. No one came to the door. She rang again. After a moment or two, footsteps.
‘Who is it?’
‘Lynne.’
Nothing. Then the door opened a few inches on the chain. She could see her sister’s hand, the side of her head, her shoulder.
‘Hil? It’s me.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Can I come in?’
‘What for?’
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing but then she realised. ‘It’s OK. I’m on my own.’
‘It’s late and Mike’s on a night shift. He’s not here.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything? Let me in, Hil. I’m cold, my foot’s hurt, and I’ve walked miles.’
‘What for? What are you doing here?’
‘I daren’t go home.’
‘For Christ’s sake, are you daft or something? I don’t care if you are my sister, you know what happened today, and it’s all over the news. He murdered three women, Lynne, and how they managed to find him not guilty God only knows. So now he’sa free man and you’re wetting yourself and in your shoes so would I be. I’m sorry for you. Only you’re not coming in and staying here, I’m on my own with the kids and –’
‘He wouldn’t come here.’
‘Of course he’d come here. Where else could you be? He’ll know and he’d come and I’m not having it. Go and check into a B & B.’
‘I haven’t got any money, Hil . . .’
Hilary swore and pushed the door closed again, muttering to her to wait.
‘Here, but that’s it, don’t come back here, Lynne. I’m sorry but I’m not taking the risk. Go on, you’ll get somewhere if you hurry up.’ Her hand, with a twenty-pound note in it, came through the opening.
She stood after the door had closed and the chain and bolts been drawn, the money clenched in her hand. The lights went out downstairs. A low one went on in the bedroom. She looked up, wondering if Hil would change her mind. But she wouldn’t and who could blame her? She was right. It was one place he’d come looking, and Mike was on nights so she was on her own with two kids.
She turned away and began to walk slowly back down the road. Twenty quid wasn’t enough for a night’s B & B, even if she could find one to take her in at this time and without even a toothbrush. Come on.
The main road was deserted. She took off both her shoes now, it was easier than having the strap rub on the raw blister. She walked without thinking, back towards the town, not wanting to put the thought of going home into her mind. Where else? She stumbled, pain shooting up through the sole of her bare foot where she had trodden on a stone.
There was a bus stop, with a half-shelter and an iron seat, and when she sat down in the dark and put her hand on her foot to soothe it, the hand came away wet with blood. Only now did she cry.
The lights of a car washed over her. The car pulled in a few yards ahead. She didn’t need that, some guy on the prowlthinking she was a tart. She got up, about to run, in spite of her foot.
Now it was a torch in her face. ‘Hold on a minute.’
The last puff of energy drained away and she sat down heavily on the bench.
The copper was joined by his mate. ‘Are you all right, love?’
‘No,’ Lynne said. ‘Since you ask.’
They could have done anything, quizzed her for soliciting, checked her for drugs, asked to see ID, anything at all. What they actually did was put her in the back of the patrol car and take her to the Crofton A & E. It was empty apart from a mother and child who went into a cubicle as Lynne arrived.
No one seemed to have recognised her, not the policemen, nor the nurse who cleaned up her foot or the doctor who stitched it. One of the coppers got her a cup of tea from the machine.
The radio in the car was yattering to itself but apparently no one wanted these two.
‘Right, we’ll take you home and see you in. Got any painkillers? Used to give you those at the