A pair of white boots

January 23, 2012 § 1 Comment

There are no streetlights on this stretch, and the clouds are smothering the starlight, so if you were coming up the road from the roundabout, the first thing you’d see would be the car tucked over to the side, its hazards on.

The light of passing cars picks out her boots against the darkness, dazzling white patent leather with a heel and a pointed toe. They’re no sort of boots to be wearing out here, along the bypass, not with that drop down to the ditch.

She won’t be told, though. She won’t get back in that car – she’d rather walk all the way back home, doesn’t matter how far. She’ll sleep in a hedge before she’ll get back in.

He thinks he’s so smart, there in his big flashy car. Brought it round earlier to try to impress her, and she made her dad go out and coo over it whilst she got ready. Idiot drove too fast all the way into town too, like he was some sort of rally driver. She kept having to scream at him to slow down or that there was a corner, he was that busy faffing with the stereo.

It’s not even his car anyway. It’s his brother’s and she knows he’s away at the moment. There’ll be hell to pay when he gets back, but she won’t be there to see it. Tonight’s the last of it.

She doesn’t care that she’s no money in her purse, or that her skirt barely covers her bum on such a cold night. She strides on, every step purposeful on the roadside gravel, and with him crawling along so close behind her she feels like one of those men back in the olden days, the ones who walked before spluttering cars, waving big red danger signs.


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