Free The Facts of Life and Death by Belinda Bauer

man, who wore a black balaclava.
    One woman was assaulted on Westward Ho! beach, and the other in woodland near Clovelly.
    Detective Chief Inspector Kirsty King who is leading the investigation, told the Gazette, ‘These were disturbing and frightening attacks on young women minding their own business in broad daylight.
    ‘Thankfully, neither suffered any physical harm, but we are concerned that the nature of the attacks may be escalating, and fear this individual may injure somebody.
    ‘We would appeal to him to come forward so that he can receive the help he needs before he goes too far.’
    Oh yes
, thought Miss Sharpe,
that’ll happen.
    She read on:
    ‘We would also urge women alone in isolated areas to be aware of potential threats, and not to put themselves in harm’s way.’
    Police have described the man as being white, with a local accent, and about six feet tall.
    Despite the newspaper hype, the story was disturbing. Miss Sharpe was relieved that she was far too busy to wander about pointlessly on beaches or in woodland, and decided that she’d take a lot more notice of whether her doors were locked at night. It was easy to become casual in the countryside, but she already had a spyhole and
never
opened the door to anyone she didn’t recognize. Maybe she’d get a chain put on the front door by the local community policing team. She was overthinking things, she knew, but Miss Sharpe’s motto had always been
Better safe than sorry.
    EEEEEE-ee-ee!
    The car screeched to a halt less than two feet from her hip. The yellow bonnet with two broad black stripes running down it sprang back up from the sudden harsh braking.
    She’d walked straight out in front of it. Hadn’t even realized she was in the road.
    ‘Sorry!’ she mouthed. ‘Sorry!’ But the reflection of the sky in the windscreen made it impossible to see whether she was forgiven or not.
    She finished crossing and the yellow car swerved noisily around her.
    Not forgiven.
    Nerves fizzed all over Miss Sharpe’s body. She’d almost been killed! While she was planning her own safe passage through life. One split second of inattention and she could be dead now, or paralysed, seriously injured, lying in the road with two broken legs and tarmac under her cheek.
    She started to shake.
    It was shock, certainly. But it was also anger at herself. How could she have been so
stupid
? That wasn’t like her. That was the kind of thing other people did. People who weren’t as cautious; weren’t as clever.
    Those
were the people who were alive one second and dead the next.
    And in the
Gazette
the day after that.

14
    ‘ LOOK! ’ RUBY SAID triumphantly from the triangle behind the sofa.
    ‘What’s that?’ said Daddy.
    ‘The back off the remote control.’
    Ruby clambered over the back of the sofa with the bit of plastic and the glove.
    ‘Clever you,’ said Daddy.
    Daddy fixed the remote and pressed Play on
True Grit
and for a bit they watched a one-eyed fat man help a little girl find the killers of her father.
    Ruby over-laughed in all the good places, but Daddy didn’t. He toyed with the glove and tried it on, but it was too big for him.
    ‘This was behind the sofa?’ he said.
    ‘Uh-huh. There’s a pen lid too. Shall I get it?’
    ‘No,’ said Daddy. ‘Leave it.’
    Ruby snuggled up under his arm, but Daddy was restless. In the middle of the shoot-out, he made her stand up so he could move the sofa to look for the other glove.
    It wasn’t there.
    He stood for a moment, staring down at the carpet, then looked at the door and said, ‘Back soon.’
    ‘How long is soon?’
    ‘Not long,’ he said. ‘Be a good girl.’
    He closed the door behind him and Ruby heard him picking up his fishing gear from the porch. She switched off the TV by pressing the remote-control button as hard as she could.
    She’d
been
a good girl and it hadn’t worked.
    So she went upstairs and messed with Daddy’s cowboy things.
    The cowboy drawer always swelled in the