ABCtales -serial (alternative) part2

I’m lucky in that where I live there’s a wood close by. Not large, still it’s a good place to walk the dogs and I wasn’t the only one that frequented it. When I got there, Bill Hanley, my neighbour, was already there with his retriever Ben.
The three dogs knew one another and got one well together so while the cavorted through the trees I stood beside Bill.
“At least the bloody rain’s off.” He said squinting up at the sky.
“Not for long, we’ll see a lot more of it before morning.”
“Stormcrow.” He muttered and I laughed. Bill was older than I was by thirty years. He’d been a fisherman all his life, only recently retiring and of all my neighbours I liked him the most. I guess I’d call him a friend.
“See you’ve got a visitor.” He said, lighting up a roll up.
“Is there anything that happens in this damn street that everyone doesn’t know about?” I muttered, slightly annoyed.
“Who said everyone knows?” He said round his cigarette. “Although it was Mrs Albert that phoned and told Margaret...” (His long suffering wife) “...so I suppose everyone knows by now. Girlfriend?”
“No, Just an old school friend.”
He looked at me a moment, “Your mouth’s sayin’ one thing, and your face’s sayin’ another.” He took another puff on his cigarette.
“It’s Susan Clark.” I said finally.
“Ahhh.” He shouted for Ben to come back and all three dogs started heading toward us again, “I thought she hated your guts.”
I gave a humourless laugh. “So did I.” In one of my maudlin moods I’d told Bill about Susan once, though heaven only knows why.
“She stayin’ with you then.”
“In the spare bedroom.”
“That can’t be easy.”
“It isn’t. Believe me.”
Heavy drops of rain began to fall from the sky once more and Bill shouted Ben back, hooking him on his lead once more while I did the same with my two. We walked the short distance back to the street in silence pausing only when we reached his gate, “You need anything, give me a shout.”
I nodded, “Thanks Bill.”
To tell you the truth, I didn’t want to go back to the flat. I’d often dreamed of Susan waiting there for me but in the dream she wore a gold band on her wedding finger and slept in my bed. It wasn’t easy to reconcile reality with fantasy. I took a deep breath and hurried the last few yards to my own gate. Just as I was about to unlock the door a thought struck me; what if she had left while I was gone? I entered quietly, carefully while the two dogs barrelled past me into the warmth. The bedroom door was still shut so I took that to mean she was still there. And when, after I had doffed jacket and boots, I went into the bathroom her clothes were still piled on the floor there. She was still in there then.

I scooped up her clothes and took them into the kitchen, to the washing machine. I emptied the pockets of her jeans and jacket – I knew that I shouldn’t but I had the excuse of washing them. A thorough search revealed nothing more than half a pack of polo’s, a piece of paper with my address scrawled in biro and her wallet. I stuffed the clothes into the machine and switched it on then stood staring at the wallet on the counter top. Something inside might reveal what had happened to her, but if she knew I had been rifling her wallet she’d probably be out the door. I was already on dangerous ground, searching the pockets of her clothes. I shrugged, this was no time to be squeamish, and she could be in real trouble. I picked the wallet up, wincing as the Velcro holding it closed made an overly loud tearing sound. What had I expected? I couldn’t really say, all I found was the usual, the same as could be found in any wallet - credit cards, (Two, both gold cards.) cash, just short a hundred pounds or so and a photo. It was of Susan and a man I didn’t recognise. They were hugging each other and smiling at the camera. I closed the wallet again, tossing it back onto the counter and fighting back an unexpected surge of jealousy. Why didn’t she go running to the guy in the photo whoever he was? Why did she have to come back into my life? I’d been doing just fine without her. I shook myself out of the dark mood. That she’d come to me was testament that she had no-where else to go, no one else to turn to. To tell you the truth, that was what scared me most of all.

I knew that with everything that had happened, I wasn’t going to get any writing done, (That was my chosen profession by the way, an author. And even if I do say so myself a rather successful one at that. Most everyone had heard of J.D. Harrison. But with the exception of my agent and publishers no one knew I; Jack Harris (the D and ‘on was my agent’s idea) was J.D. Harrison. I liked it better that way.

So I went to bed, pausing only to listen at the spare room door. No sound came from within. Despite being tired it took a long time for me to fall asleep.

My eyes flicked open and I sat up simultaneously as the scream sounded again. It took me a moment to fully shrug off the haze of sleep and grasp why there was a woman screaming in my flat. Then realisation struck, Susan! I dived out of bed, not bothering to pull on my robe and shot out into the hallway almost falling over Glen in the process. (A nuclear detonation wouldn’t wake him.) The spare room door was still closed but the scream sounded again so, ignoring the fact that she might resent my intrusion especially since I was clad in only an old pair of jog-pants, I pushed the door wide and dived into the room, hitting the light switch.
Susan was sitting bolt upright in the bed, sweat had plastered her long auburn hair to her naked upper torso. Her face was screwed tight, tears streaming down her cheeks and she continued to scream. I cleared the distance from door to bed and took her by the shoulders intent on shaking her fully awake but she jerked away at my touch and started struggling violently. An errant fist crushed my lower lip against my teeth and I tasted blood.
“Susan! Susan, wake up!” I said trying to control her thrashing arms. Finally whatever nightmare had held her released its hold and her eyes opened focusing on me. For one terrifying moment I thought she might misunderstand my presence…
“Oh God.” She cried and threw her arms about me, pressing her face into my neck like she was trying to merge with me. I felt her hot tears on my shoulder and instinctively my arms folded about her. “It’s okay,” I kept repeating in what I hoped was a comforting voice, “It was only a dream. You’re safe now.” I tried to disentangle myself from her but her fierce grip held me tight. Consciously aware of her nakedness pressed against me, I forced myself to think of more important matters - like what in hell could have scared her so much?
I eyed the tee shirt I had given her earlier on the floor by the bed and stretched down, hooking it with my fingers. “Susan, it’s okay.” I crooned. Despite the sweat her skin felt like ice. “You’d better put this on.” I felt her grip around me loosen and I looked away as she took the top from me and pulled it over her head but not before I noticed the bruises peppering her body. Self-consciously I edged slightly further away from her, “Are you okay now?” I asked, facing her once more when I was sure that she’d pulled the shirt on.
Although she seemed in better control of herself now, her eyes were still haunted by the memory of the dream, still welling with tears.
“What… Why are you in here?” She managed.
“You were screaming. I think you were having a nightmare.”
She looked at me and her expression changed. What next? I thought.