She ran back down the stairs into the living room. Placid Martha was looking distressed, her hands clasping and unclasping her pearls, her glasses sliding down her nose.
“My dear,” she began, only to stop at the ferocious look of anger on the girl’s face. “Whatever is wrong? Amabel’s right. It was a woman on the phone.”
“When I answered it wasn’t a woman on the phone. It was a man pretending to be my father.” It had been her father. She knew it, knew it deep down. She was so scared she wondered if a person could die of just being scared, nothing else, just being scared.
“Baby,” Amabel said, rising, “this is all very confusing. I think you and I should talk about this later.”
Sally turned without another word and walked slowly upstairs. She was leaving now. She didn’t care if she had to walk and hitchhike. She knew all the stories about the dangers of a woman alone, but they didn’t come close to the danger she felt bearing down on her now. How many people knew she was here? The man pretending to be her father, and now a woman? She thought of that nilrse. She’d hated that nurse so much. Sally couldn’t even remember her name now. She didn’t want to. Could it have been that nurse?
She stuffed her clothes in her duffel bag and then realized she had to wait. She didn’t want to fight with Amabel. She heard Amabel lock up the cottage. She heard her walk up the stairs, her step brisk and solid. Sally got quickly into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.
“Sally?”
“Yes, Amabel. Oh, goodness, I was nearly asleep. Good night.”
“Yes, good night, baby. Sleep well.”
“All right.”
“Sally, about that phone call-”
She waited, not saying a word.
“Martha could have been mistaken. It’s quite possible. Her hearing isn’t all that good anymore. She’s getting old. It could even have been a man disguising his voice like a woman’s just in case you didn’t answer the phone. I can’t imagine that it could have been Thelma. Baby, nobody knows who you are, nobody.”
Amabel paused. Sally could see her silhouetted in the doorway from the dim light in the corridor. “You know, baby, you’ve been through a lot, too much. You’re frightened. I would be too. Your mind can do funny things to you when you’re frightened. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I understand that, Amabel.” She wasn’t about to tell Amabel that Thelma knew who she was.
“Good. You try to sleep, baby.” She didn’t come in to kiss her good night, for which Sally was grateful. She lay there, waiting, waiting.
Finally, she slipped out of bed, pulled on her sneakers, picked up her duffel bag, and tiptoed to the window. It slid up easily. She poked her head out and scanned the ground as she’d done earlier. This was the way out. It wasn’t far to the ground, and she knew there was no way she could get down those stairs without Amabel hearing her.
No, she’d be just fine. She climbed out the window and sat on the narrow ledge. She dropped the duffel bag and watched it bounce off the squat, thick bushes below. She drew a deep breath and jumped.
She landed on James Quinlan.
They both went down, James rolling, holding her tight against him.
When they came to a stop, Sally reared up on her hands and stared down at him. There was a half moon, more than enough light to see his face clearly.
“What are you doing here?”
“I knew you’d run after that telephone call.”
She rolled off him and rose, only to collapse again. She’d sprained her damned ankle. She cursed.
He laughed. “That’s not good enough for a girl who didn’t go to finishing school in Switzerland. Don’t you know some down and dirty street curses?”
“Go to hell. I sprained my damned ankle and it’s all your fault. Why couldn’t you just mind your own damned business?”
“I didn’t want you out on the road hitchhiking with some lowlife who could rape you and cut your throat.”