Read Online Once by James Herbert - Free Book Online Page B

whip back the sheet. He winced as the stiffness turned to a stab of pain and became still again, waiting impatiently.
    An even sharper knock on the door now, as if someone was frustrated by the lack of response. He thought he heard a voice calling.
    ‘Okay, okay,’ Thom muttered, easing his legs over the side of the bed. He sat on the edge. ‘Okay!1 he said aloud and irritably as yet another clunk of the bell, this time a looser sound, almost but not quite, a clank, came from below.
    Leaning forward with a groan - Jesus, it felt like he had a hangover - he grabbed the cargoes draped over the arm of the two-seater settle close by the bed, mumbling curses as he dragged them on. One foot got caught up in a leg and he had to wriggle his ankle to free it, his curses becoming louder and more angry. Finally, he stood and hauled the stone-coloured trousers over his hips, snapping them shut easily because of the weight he’d lost recently, then reached for the white linen shirt hung over the opposite arm of the settle. Shrugging the shirt over his shoulders and slipping his arms into the sleeves, he limped across the room to the door.
    As he began to descend the winding stairs, right hand slipping round the newel to steady himself, creaking floorboards cool beneath his bare feet, the bell rang yet again, clank becoming a hoarse clang. Light streaming from the stairway’s window momentarily blinded him and he almost stumbled, saving himself by bracing his arms against the curved wall and newel post. He blinked rapidly, and as the haze cleared he thought he saw something small scurry across the ground floor landing to disappear through the slightly opened bathroom door.
    Thom blinked again, not quite believing what he had seen. Imagination? Still half-dreaming? No, he was sure he’d caught sight of something scooting across the floor. Maybe a mouse. No, too big. Some kind of animal from the forest then. Oh God, not a rat. Please not a rat. Maybe it was to be expected, with the place being empty all these years. Who
    knew what other creatures had set up home inside the cottage in the absence of human occupation?
    He reached the foot of the stairs, the big oak door to the living-room in front of him, the doors to the cupboard and bathroom to his right. Cautiously, he pushed the bathroom door further open and peered inside. The little room was in darkness and he tugged at the hanging light-switch. A heavy double-click and light vanquished most of the shadows. There was nothing amiss though, nothing unusual, nothing out of place. Thom was about to step inside and search the nooks and crannies, anywhere a smallish animal could hide, when there was more rapping and ringing at the front door.
    Torn between further investigation and answering the door, Thom bit into his lower lip, did another quick scan of the tiny room, then backed out, leaving the light on but the door closed behind him. He could do a thorough search later.
    He called out as he went through into the octagonal-shaped room and the sounds outside ceased. Drawing back the bolt at the bottom of the painted door (he hadn’t bothered with the top one) and turning the long key in its lock, Thom yanked the front door open, ready to give the impatient caller a piece of his mind. Instead, he stood there open-mouthed.
    She was stunning. Not quite beautiful in the conventional way, but nevertheless stunning. So stunning, in fact, that he gawped a moment or two more.
    Long black hair fell in wild tangles to her shoulders, and her eyes, set wide above high cheekbones, matched its darkness. Hollowed cheeks led to a firm but gently pointed jaw and her nose, while still feminine, was strong, the nostrils slightly flared. It was a striking face, handsome rather than pretty, and sensual perhaps rather than beautiful. She was smiling at him and there was an implicit challenge,
    one that went with the gentle, amused mocking in her dark, gypsy eyes.
    ‘Good morning, Thom,’ she said,