The Girls in the Woods Read Online Free Page B

all day.’
    He reached down and stroked her hair like she was some kind of pet dog. ‘I’m nearly done for now. How about you go and clean yourself up and I’ll come inside, make us both a sandwich?’
    He reached down, putting his hands under her arms, then pulled her to her feet. He brushed her down and she had to stop herself from flinching at his touch. Keeping her one good eye on the ground, she didn’t look across at the bank of steel fridges that were now lined against the back wall. She remembered now that she had stared at them when she’d come in and that had been why he’d hit her. She’d never seen them before and wondered why he wanted those monstrosities, which looked like something out of a television morgue. He must have seen the shock on her face and that was when he’d hit her. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind. They weren’t morgue fridges. What would her husband want with second-hand fridges that had been used to store dead bodies in? It wasn’t right and he had no use for them – he was a photographer, not a pathologist. Maybe they were for keeping his equipment in, or something to do with developing his films. She pushed all thoughts of them to the back of her mind and stored them in the little black box where she kept the flashbacks of the kicks and punches he had hurt her with previously. She would lock them away and forget about them. She had no right prying into his business. If she kept out of here and did as she was told then he would be happy with her. She cursed herself under her breath. What on earth had she been thinking, coming in here?
    She walked out of the garage, through his workshop and out through the studio, keeping her head down. He had been so busy lately and she had been so restless it had seemed like a good idea to come and see him. He hadn’t hit her for at least six weeks; what a fool she was, thinking that once again he had realised how cruel he was being to her and was a changed man – the same old stupid dream which had kept her going year after year. It was never going to come true. Now they were back at square one; she wouldn’t be able to go out of the house until the swelling had gone down and it was the height of summer, the weather was glorious. She supposed she could potter around the garden and there was nothing stopping her walking through the woods at the back of the house, although she didn’t really like them. On the rare occasions she’d gone walking out there she had always felt as if someone was hiding in the trees watching her and it freaked her out even though she knew it was just her imagination running wild. She didn’t need to go into the village really; it was easy to do an online shop now that every supermarket did home delivery, and the swelling would go down before she knew it. She went straight to the downstairs cloakroom to look at her reflection in the mirror. Her swollen eye was already turning blue; she’d never learn. Running the cold water tap she put the flannel underneath it, wrung it out, then sat down on the toilet and pressed it against her eyelid. ‘Ouch.’ She stayed that way until she heard the loud footsteps coming down the hallway towards the toilet. They paused outside the door and she felt a cold shiver run down the entire length of her spine, making her drop the flannel into the sink. She picked up a towel and patted the water from her cheek.
    ‘I’m coming, sorry, I won’t be a minute.’
    Then she flushed the toilet, blew her nose and opened the door. There wasn’t anybody outside; she could have sworn she’d heard him walking towards the bathroom door. She looked around, not daring to call his name in case it made him angry again. Maybe she’d knocked her head when she hit the floor and was hearing things. Turning to wring out the flannel and fold it up, she put it back so it didn’t look untidy. She glanced into the mirror one last time, and screamed. There was a much younger woman watching