Out of Control

'I'm just fed up,' Liza said with a wry smile. 'I want to get out of here and I can't wait.'

Maddie looked worried. 'Are they going to stop Bruno seeing you?'

'Not you, too,' Liza said with a groan. 'I don't want to talk about it, Maddie. Why do you think I have to get out of here?'

'I understand,' Maddie said with deep sympathy, but she didn't, of course, she had no idea. Maddie's eyes were wearing rose-coloured spectacles; she saw Liza and Bruno as star-crossed lovers, not friends and playmates. Liza envied her suddenly; it must be nice to have a loving heart and a peaceful mind like Maddie.

'Have a nice weekend,' Liza said.

'You, too,' said Maddie kindly.

It took Liza nearly an hour to get out of London's snarling traffic and closely packed streets—the suburbs went on for ever—but eventually she emerged on to the wide, dual carriageway which ran across the flat Essex miles into the countryside surrounding the Thames estuary. At that time on a Friday, even in June, there wasn't too much traffic heading in that direction and Liza was able to cover quite a distance in the next half-hour. But when she turned off into the maze of winding little lanes which criss-crossed the marsh she found herself forced to slow to a crawl, because a river mist had drifted inland, thick and wet and white, coiling around trees and houses like damp cotton wool, making it impossible to see far ahead. It was lucky that Liza knew her way so well; she was almost feeling the way now, like one of the blind, recognising landmarks and twists of the road without seeing anything on either side.

A pub sign flashed out of the mist at last and she gave a sigh of relief, recognising the local pub, the Green Man. The sign was new, a vivid painting of a dancing, capering figure dressed from head to foot in green leaves. There was a faintly sinister element in the painting, and the local regulars at the pub didn't like it as much as the old sign, which had been a faded, weatherbeaten picture of Robin Hood, but the landlord was pleased with his new sign and ignored complaints.

Liza carefully inched her way down a tiny lane leading off at right angles, hearing the slap of the tide against the wooden jetty at the far end of the lane. Her cottage was a stone's throw away; she had got here safely and was very pleased with herself for her navigation under such difficult circumstances, but she congratulated herself a minute too soon.

She was grinning cheerfully when her car ran smack into the back of another car. She hadn't seen the tail-lights or heard another engine. She had had no warning of any kind.

It was lucky that her car was only crawling along the kerb at about five miles an hour, and even luckier that Liza had her seat-belt on—it might have been much worse. As it was, she was thrown forwards with a violent jolt into the steering wheel and had all the air knocked out of her lungs for a minute. She was too shocked to hear the crumpling of the car bonnet or the splintering of the glass in her windscreen. When she was conscious of anything again it was very quiet and still. She sat up, her heart beating like a sledge-hammer and her breathing thick and painful, and peered into the waves of white mist.

Through it she heard the sound of striding and then a face lunged at her through the mist; an angry face, dark and ruthless, without an ounce of sympathy for the pain Liza was in or a trace of kindness for her to appeal to. A face Liza disliked intensely on sight. It was obviously mutual.

'What the hell were you doing, driving like a damned maniac in this weather?' he snarled, his hard mouth curling upwards as if he might bite at any minute. Liza eyed him coldly. His face was wolfish, she decided; he had thick black eyebrows above fierce, blue eyes and moody features. She couldn't imagine him being the life and soul of a party, even in a good mood, if he ever had any.

'I was almost at a standstill!' she hurled back. 'It was you who was the cause of the accident—you weren't showing any lights.'

'You mean you didn't see them!' he said, but she saw a flicker in his eyes, a passing uncertainty—had his lights failed without him noticing? Too late to check now; she only had to lean forward to see the battered rear of his car, the smashed glass of his lights.

That was when she saw that he was driving an estate car; a very muddy estate car which looked as if it was at least ten years old. That was a relief; if she was found responsible for the accident, at least he couldn't claim much on a vehicle in that state.

'Look, I'm sorry,' she began, turning to him and taking in more about him this time. He was wearing a shabby old fawn mackintosh which was open and under which she saw a well worn tweed jacket, and olive-green sweater, rough cord trousers in more or less the same shade and muddy green wellies.

'And how could you drive in those boots?' Liza attacked, pointing. 'Your feet would slip on the controls!'

'I wasn't driving. I was debating whether to go into the Green Man or set off for home!'

'Don't you mean go back into the Green Man?' she asked. 'Had you been drinking?'

'No, I had not,' he said with a bite, yanking open her door and gripping her arm. 'I think you'd better get out of there. We'll walk back to the pub and ring the police.'

'My cottage is nearer,' Liza said with cold dignity. 'We can ring from there.'

'Cottage?' He looked around him, his black brows lilting.

'Behind you—you can see the gate, it's only a few yards.'

'Well, out you get, then,' he said and Liza felt herself being pulled out of her seat. Her head went round and she gave a silly little moan, swaying.

'Don't do that,' she said and found herself talking into his sweater. She was leaning on his chest, her body slack and cold. What on earth am I doing here? she thought stupidly.

'What are you doing?' he asked a second later and Liza i nod to stand upright, but only slithered down his body until she was seized and propped up against her car. He leaned forward and spoke slowly and clearly, an inch away from her face. 'Where is your key?'

Liza tried to reach into her car for the keys dangling from her dashboard, but the movement made her dizzy again. A moment later she was over his shoulder, seeing the ground from a strange angle; it was swinging to and fro and Liza felt seasick so she moaned weakly, shutting her eyes, and that was better. Not much better, but a little.

He must have found her door key on the key-ring in the dashboard, because he opened the front door of the cottage and a moment later the hall light came on and then the sitting-room light. Then Liza was lying on the comfortable sofa, and the stranger took of his fawn mackintosh and covered her with it. She heard him switch on the electric fire on the hearth; the bars slowly glowed orange and she sighed as the heat reached her. She was shivering, but the appalling coldness was passing.