Excerpt from the Prologue

Anna turned out of the High Street and continued her walk towards the bus depot and the alleys. Catherine and Anna always used the alleys as a short cut home. She considered taking the road, but that would add several minutes to her journey and she'd promised to be in by eleven-thirty; it had been a struggle to get that concession. She looked at her watch; she was already late. The alleys would be quicker.

Several cars sped passed her, full of Friday night revellers; tapes thumping from in-car speakers mixed with the inconsiderate cheering and hysterical laughter from the occupants. Her mind recalled Catherine waving to her out of the window of the car. Catherine will be all right, she reassured herself.

The street slowly returned to its mid-night calm. Anna pulled her jacket across her front. The air had suddenly chilled as she turned into the first alley. It was wide enough at the entrance to benefit from the glow of the amber streetlights. But, it was as her shadow dimmed that she heard the shuffled footsteps behind her, and her brain rushed into action. She couldn't remember seeing anyone. But then she hadn't been looking. The length of the alley spread out before her. She couldn't turn back, and there were no side-tracks.

She held her breath as she walked, straining her ears for every sound, until tightness gripped at her chest and she had to breathe out. Should she walk on? Should she run? There was light ahead. She pushed her legs to go faster and as she walked the sound of the steps kept pace with hers, and in the silence of the alley their volume increased, as did her panic. Her legs slowed and so did the sounds. Was it her imagination? The steps were mimicking her every movement, and her deepening fear forbade her to turn around. Then she heard her name.

'Anna … Anna. Don't run away, Anna.'

The anger in the cultured male voice was alien to her. But he knew her name, and if he knew her, she was all right, wasn't she? She turned to face him. He was just an arms-length away. His eyes stared; half shadowed, half lit from the glare of the alley lamp, and his thin, stretched lips held a perfect smile.

It was Daniel! Daniel from the night-club. She knew him. He was one of the group of people they had been dancing with. She hadn't spoken to him, but the knowledge allowed the muscles in her legs to relax and the tension eased.

'I'd like to walk you home, Anna … Anna?' He repeated her name, demanding an answer.

'I'm okay, thanks. I can see myself home.' Anna turned quickly and walked on.

'But you're alone, Anna. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be out at night alone.' He caught up with her, and leant into her, pushing her sideways.

'I haven't far to go. Thanks.'

'You mustn't be alone, Anna.'

What was he saying? Was he just being considerate? Well, she didn't need his help.

'I'm not alone. Well, I won't be soon. I'm meeting my friend in the next street.'

'Oh … Anna. That's a little white lie. I watched you wave bye bye to your friend.' He laughed, soft and low, his manner was patronising.

Her mask of control disappeared and, like melting ice, uncovered her vulnerability.

Without consideration, he placed his arm about her, his hand reached under her jacket. His sweaty fingers touched her bare skin between her short blouse and her skirt. At the same time his other hand took hold of her arm. 'See, that's better isn't it?'

She staggered; it was a struggle to walk on against the pull of his arms. She dared to look at him, but the renewed darkness of the alley now covered his face.

'Please, let me go.' His fingers on her arm dug through her jacket. His other hand continued to caress her bare waistline; she tried to twist out of his grasp. 'Don't do that.'

'Why? Don't you like it?' Alarmingly he jumped in front of her and gestured, as if he was dancing, and laughed again. 'You didn't object when those boys were dancing all round you. I watched you, Anna. You've got long, sexy legs. And when your skirt swirls up …' He reached down and flicked her skirt up to her waist.

'Stop it!' Oh, what could she do? 'Please don't.' She prayed that he would listen to her, but her arm was gripped once more as if in a vice.

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