Free Lemonade and Lies by Elaine Johns Page A

ribs.
    “I’m off for a walk. Fancy it?”
    “You’re joking. After all that food?” she said. “Why don’t you just read a book?” She smirked, hoisting me with my own petard (which can never be good).
    “Yeah, okay - touché. Sure you won’t come? The view’s insane from up there.”
    “Count me out,” she said, “but I might go for a swim later.”
    “Please Alice, don’t. At least not for an hour, you’ve just eaten.” I could hear the unreasonable panic in my voice, but couldn’t help it.
    “I said later. God’s sake Jill, what’s with you today? Ease up.”
    “Sorry.”
    “Just sod off and stop being such a bloody misery guts.”
     
    *
     
    You can hike along the cliff tops all the way to the next bay on the coastal path, and the scenery in this part of the North Coast is stunning. They call it Poldark Country, after the TV series, I suppose. I never saw it. But I’d read the books.
    It was low tide so I walked along the sand, past Flat Rock and towards the dunes that take you up to the cliff path. It had been a spontaneous, spur of the moment thing to do the outdoorsy, hikers’ bit. Apart from the less than ideal footwear - scruffy, ancient trainers that weren’t designed for yomping - it felt right.
    The nervous tension that had dogged me vanished, leaving in its place a sudden bubbly feeling of optimism. The view was glorious, the day was warm, the kids were being looked after, and I was free to go wherever I wanted. At last, it felt like I was master of my own fate. I sang out loud; a spirited version of Let your Love Flow, though maybe not one the Bellamy Brothers would have recognised.
    “What the hell?”
    It happened so quickly there was no time to react. One minute I was walking happily along the coast path, the next I was gasping for air with massive hands attached to my windpipe.
    Whoever was trying to choke the life out of me had come up from behind, so I couldn’t see his face. The powerful, vice-like grip on my neck meant it was impossible to move my head, and made me feel faint.
    My head swam dizzily and flecks of coloured light floated in front of my eyes. “Why me?” I screamed, inside my skull. I had kids. I could die up here on these cliffs before anyone could help me.
    “Help yourself!” an accusing voice said, a voice that sounded like my brother, Brian – only deeper, a grown up version of my kid brother. “Want your children to be orphans?” the voice insisted. It was insane. My brother was dead. But that desperate thought focused my mind.
    It was difficult because I wasn’t facing my attacker, but I brought my heel up and lashed out backwards with the strength that came from desperation. I could tell by the groan though, that I’d been lucky. Had given the bastard a souvenir to remember. It would be some time before he’d be able to enjoy sex again, and even peeing might not be a barrel of fun. He staggered backwards but didn’t release his hold.
    Instead, he changed his grip, grabbing me roughly by the wrists, dragging me violently backwards over the rough ground. The pain was intense as parts of my body connected with small, sharp stones. And my arms felt like they were being yanked from their sockets. But the most excruciating pain was centred in my throat and I fought fiercely with my own body, trying to ignore the reflex to pass out.
    We changed direction and I knew I was being dragged off the path, towards the edge of the cliff. I tried to scream the word help, but my throat had been so tightly squeezed that it was impossible to form a sound.
    I squinted up at the sun. This might be the last time I saw it. The thought gave me strength and I made a massive effort to turn myself over. The unexpected move threw him off balance; the rough, uneven ground did the rest. He stumbled. Only for a second, but it was enough. The man was large and ungainly, someone whose steroid consumption would be a comfort to the pharmaceutical industry. And I was betting that