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Authors: Ruth Rendell
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was that there was never a sign of a policeman in that area. Iâm sure none of them told the police, for they had nothing to tell. They had only what they imagined and what the media had led them to expect. Yet harm did come from it, irrevocable harm and suffering and shame.
No doubt by now you think youâve guessed. The inevitable must have happened, the encounter which any man who makes a practice of intimidating women is bound to have sooner or later, when the tables are turned on him. Yes, that did happen but it wasnât what stopped me. Being seized by the arm, hurled in the air and laid out, sprawled and bruised, by a judo black belt, was just an occupational hazard. Iâve always been glad, though, that I behaved like a gentleman. I didnât curse her or shout abuse. I merely got up, rubbed my legs and my elbows, made her a little bow and walked off in the direction of the Wake. Carol wanted to know how Iâd managed to get green stains all over my clothes and I think to this day she believes it was from lying on the grass in a park somewhere with another woman. As if I would!
That attack on me deterred me. It didnât put me off. I let three weeks go by, three miserable yearning weeks, and then I went back to the Wake road one sunny July morning and had one of my most satisfying experiences. A girl walking, not on the road, but taking a short cut through the forest itself. I walked parallel to her, sometimes letting her catch a glimpse of me. I knew she did, for like it had been with the girl in Queens Wood, I could sense and smell her fear.
I strolled out from the bushes at last and stood ahead of her, waiting. She didnât dare approach me, she didnât know what to do. At length she turned back and I followed her, threading my way among the bushes until she must have thought I had gone, then appearing once more on the path ahead. This time she turned off to the left, running, and I let her go. Laughing the way I always did, out loud and irrepressibly, I let her go. I hadnât done her any harm. Think of the relief she must have felt when she knew sheâd got away from me and was safe. Think of her going home and telling her mother or her sister or her husband all about it.
You could even say Iâd done her a good turn. Most likely Iâd warned her off going out in the forest on her own and therefore protected her from some real pervert or molester of women.
It was a point of view, wasnât it? You could make me out a public benefactor. I showed them what could happen. I was like the small electric shock that teaches a child not to play with the wires. Or thatâs what I believed. Till I learned that even a small shock can kill.
I was out in the forest, on the Wake road, when I had a piece of luck. It was autumn and getting dark at six, the earliest Iâd been able to get there, and I didnât have much hope of any woman being silly enough to walk down that road alone in the dark. I had got off the bus at the Wake Arms and was walking slowly down the hill when I saw this car parked ahead of me at the kerb. Even from a distance I could hear the horrible noise it made as the driver tried to start it, that anguished grinding you get when ignition wonât take place.
The offside door opened and a woman got out. She was on her own. She reached back into the car and turned the lights off, slammed the door, locked it and began walking down the hill towards Theydon. I had stepped in among the trees and she hadnât yet seen me. I followed her, working out what technique I should use this time. Pursuing her at a run to start with was what I decided on.
I came out on to the pavement about a hundred yards behind her and began running after her, making as much noise with my feet as I could. Of course she stopped and turned round as I knew she would. Probably she thought I was a saviour who was going to do something about her car for her. She looked round, waiting
No doubt by now you think youâve guessed. The inevitable must have happened, the encounter which any man who makes a practice of intimidating women is bound to have sooner or later, when the tables are turned on him. Yes, that did happen but it wasnât what stopped me. Being seized by the arm, hurled in the air and laid out, sprawled and bruised, by a judo black belt, was just an occupational hazard. Iâve always been glad, though, that I behaved like a gentleman. I didnât curse her or shout abuse. I merely got up, rubbed my legs and my elbows, made her a little bow and walked off in the direction of the Wake. Carol wanted to know how Iâd managed to get green stains all over my clothes and I think to this day she believes it was from lying on the grass in a park somewhere with another woman. As if I would!
That attack on me deterred me. It didnât put me off. I let three weeks go by, three miserable yearning weeks, and then I went back to the Wake road one sunny July morning and had one of my most satisfying experiences. A girl walking, not on the road, but taking a short cut through the forest itself. I walked parallel to her, sometimes letting her catch a glimpse of me. I knew she did, for like it had been with the girl in Queens Wood, I could sense and smell her fear.
I strolled out from the bushes at last and stood ahead of her, waiting. She didnât dare approach me, she didnât know what to do. At length she turned back and I followed her, threading my way among the bushes until she must have thought I had gone, then appearing once more on the path ahead. This time she turned off to the left, running, and I let her go. Laughing the way I always did, out loud and irrepressibly, I let her go. I hadnât done her any harm. Think of the relief she must have felt when she knew sheâd got away from me and was safe. Think of her going home and telling her mother or her sister or her husband all about it.
You could even say Iâd done her a good turn. Most likely Iâd warned her off going out in the forest on her own and therefore protected her from some real pervert or molester of women.
It was a point of view, wasnât it? You could make me out a public benefactor. I showed them what could happen. I was like the small electric shock that teaches a child not to play with the wires. Or thatâs what I believed. Till I learned that even a small shock can kill.
I was out in the forest, on the Wake road, when I had a piece of luck. It was autumn and getting dark at six, the earliest Iâd been able to get there, and I didnât have much hope of any woman being silly enough to walk down that road alone in the dark. I had got off the bus at the Wake Arms and was walking slowly down the hill when I saw this car parked ahead of me at the kerb. Even from a distance I could hear the horrible noise it made as the driver tried to start it, that anguished grinding you get when ignition wonât take place.
The offside door opened and a woman got out. She was on her own. She reached back into the car and turned the lights off, slammed the door, locked it and began walking down the hill towards Theydon. I had stepped in among the trees and she hadnât yet seen me. I followed her, working out what technique I should use this time. Pursuing her at a run to start with was what I decided on.
I came out on to the pavement about a hundred yards behind her and began running after her, making as much noise with my feet as I could. Of course she stopped and turned round as I knew she would. Probably she thought I was a saviour who was going to do something about her car for her. She looked round, waiting
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