Read Online The Risk of Darkness by Susan Hill - Free Book Online Page B

hundred years. It took two minutes. Once, some of the rock pulled away in his hand, almost taking him down with it, but he slid sideways and grasped another outcrop which stayed firm.
    Simon reached the ledge, hauled himself carefully on to it, and then lay down on his stomach and reached out his hand to pull the woman up.
    The sea had come racing on to the strip of sand, over the low rocks, into the mouth of the cave. The sky was a sullen, sulphurous grey, but for now the lightning had ceased.
    “Press back against the cliff. You won’t get blown away like that.”
    She managed it, weeping with fear, her hands bleeding, face ashen.
    Simon waited until she was next to him, back against the cliff, pressing herself into it as if she could make it open up to admit her body.
    He looked at her.
    Ordinary. Neither attractive nor plain, neither tall nor short, fat nor thin. An average smallish woman with cropped hair. Ordinary .
    “I’m DCI Simon Serrailler from Lafferton Police. Your name?”
    She gaped at him as if he had spoken in another language.
    “What’s your name?” He raised his voice above the crash and boom of a wave below.
    It came out at last, her mouth moving queerly, pushed sideways as if she had had a stroke.
    “Ed.”
    “What kind of a name is that?”
    “Edwina. Edwina Sleightholme.”
    She looked at him. “What will happen?”
    “You’ll be taken in for questioning in connection with the abduction of Amy Sudden.”
    “Now , for Christ’s sake, now, what’s going to happen here, now?”
    She crouched and bent her head. He heard her sobs of fear.
    He could not see what was happening above them, nor turn to look up. Once, he thought he heard a shout, but it was swept away by the noise of the sea.
    He was strangely calm. He was alone here, with thewoman. But on the clifftop he had back-up, and they would have called for assistance; he had no idea how long it would take to come. When would the tide turn?
    Ed Sleightholme moved suddenly, edging her body forward.
    “Don’t be so bloody stupid.”
    “I might as well, I might as well.”
    “Why?”
    Her body was shaking.
    Simon waited, then said, “Nasty way to die.”
    “Who’d care?”
    “Haven’t the faintest idea. Are you married?”
    A slight shake of her head.
    “Parents alive?”
    Silence. Then the slightest movement again, an inch further forward.
    “Friends?”
    It sickened him to imagine it. But the family and friends wouldn’t know. They never did. She might have taken and murdered these children and half a dozen more and still have had good friends, lovers, people who cared about her, simply because they did not know .
    She said something.
    “What?”
    Again.
    “I can’t hear you.”
    He had thought the storm had eased and drifted inland, but now there was a bolt of lightning so close to them Simon thought it had struck the cliff only a few feet away. The thunder made him duck his head.She cowered back, pressing into the cliff again, and grabbed his arm with such strength he thought she would pull him over the cliff with her.
    “It’s OK,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “We’re OK. It can’t touch us, the rocks will conduct any lightning downwards.”
    He had no idea if it were true but he knew that he had sounded convincing when she loosened her grip on him.
    “I didn’t … know that …”
    “So long as we keep our backs in contact with the cliff. Just don’t move away from that contact for a second.”
    He looked sideways and saw that she had believed him and was pressing her body backwards as if her life depended on it. She had her eyes tight shut.
    Simon forced himself to look away from her and to turn his mind to other places, other things … He imagined his nephew Sam at the wicket, face upturned eagerly to the bowler. The sun sifted between the poplar trees at the edge of the cricket field. There was the taste of home-brewed beer in his mouth. He went on painting the picture, animating it, making the film