"Littleford, Clare - Death Duty" - читать интересную книгу автора (Littleford Clare)wearing dark lipstick. He was gone she leaned over me and I smelled
her perfume, flowery, sweet. I realized that I was screaming; I tried to stop, tried to suck in breath, but the air caught in my throat and I couldn't get it into my lungs and it hurt from the effort and I had to be able to breathe, I needed air. "It's okay," the woman said. "Shh, shh, it's okay." She was holding a roll of kitchen towel against my head, and there was blood spattered on her lilac blouse. I was lying on the floor in her shop, in the narrow aisle between the shelves, and there was my blood on her blouse. I tried to stand, tried to apologize, but I couldn't get beyond sitting up, and she was holding me down, one hand anchoring my shoulder, repeating, "Shh, it's okay." My skirt was rucked up over my knees. There was a big hole in my tights, and slight grazes on my knees, and one of my shoes was lying near the door, just out of my reach. The woman bending over me said, "What happened?" I tried to think back, but then I couldn't breathe, the air caught in my throat again, and I couldn't swallow it down. "He hit me," I know what else to say. There were other people in the shop. An older Asian man with a heavy moustache coming round from behind the counter, a young black woman in a yellow sweatshirt framed in the open doorway with the sunlight so bright behind her. The woman kneeling over me said, "We've called an ambulance." "No, no," I said, and tried to stand up again, but I seemed to be attached magnetically to the floor. "I'll be fine. I've got to get back to work, they're expecting me back." The black woman in the doorway brought me my shoe and said, "Where do you work?" A dark hole in my mind where the automatic knowledge should have been. I panicked for a moment, then remembered. "Social Services. Round the corner." She had knelt down to help me put the shoe back on. "I'll go and tell them. What's your name?" "Jo," I said. "Joanne Elliott." |
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