Claire looked over her shoulder, saw how close Danny was, and reacted by veering right, skittering round the front of a parked car and bounding over the dividing wall onto the next hotel forecourt. She lost her footing, skidded over, rolled, and was up and running again.
Danny followed.
This time she caught the top of the wall with the heel of her shoe and crashed down on the opposite side, landing on her hands and knees in a deep puddle of rainwater.
Her work suit was now ruined. The cuffs of her jacket sleeves were soaked in dirty water, the skirt was completely drenched and she had laddered her tights. Eyes burning with irritation, she scrambled to her feet, slithering and sliding, then was back in pursuit, determined not to lose her quarry.
Seconds later, Claire realised she would have to do more than simply leg it in order to escape from Danny. Despite her present lack of fitness, the detective was built with the loose-limbed athleticism of a cheetah and, in days gone by, before the evils of cigarettes, booze and late nights, she had been a superb sportswoman who had represented the county at running, tennis and netball. She was still pretty good over short distances.
Danny lunged for Claire a second time.
And would have had her if the girl hadn’t glanced over her shoulder at that exact moment, seen Danny’s fingers stretching out for her, ducked left behind a car, then shot towards the Promenade.
The road was busy, the traffic heavy, the rain making it worse.
Without even looking, Claire flung herself dangerously in the path of an oncoming van.
Panting now, Danny ran after her round the same parked car, only to hear an ominous ripping sound as her skirt caught on the bumper and tore.
This, however, was not something which immediately bothered her because she had seen Claire’s reckless dash into the road and the van bearing down on her.
Danny shrieked the girl’s name.
Claire stopped immediately. She became rooted to the spot on the tarmac and turned to face the van.
Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream.
Everything slurred down into slow motion.
The driver had been motoring along, not concentrating particularly, listening to some very loud classical music and exceeding the 30 mph speed limit by a dangerous eighteen miles per hour. His windscreen wipers were working hard against the sluicing rain. The last thing he expected to see was the ghost-like apparition of a young girl darting out directly in front of him and stopping stone dead.
‘ Jesus!’
He gripped the steering-wheel tightly enough to crush it and literally stood on the brake pedal, his backside lifting off the seat. The classical music pounding in his ears lost all form and substance, becoming a deafening, blare.
The brakes slammed on. The wheels locked. The tyres vainly tried to grip the surface of the road which was a river of rain. The back end slithered round towards the front end as the van entered a skid and lurched towards the petrified Claire.
On the roadside Danny watched the scene unfold with a kind of morbid fascination. Even as she stared at the inevitable accident-to-be, her mind told her she would be the one to blame; she was the one who had chased a frightened eleven-year-old into the path of a vehicle; the one who would have to answer all those awkward questions in a Coroner’s court.
Claire was only inches away from the front grille of the van. A fraction of a second from being mown down.
Then, amazingly, she moved.
She leapt out of the way and ran across the road, over the tram tracks towards the sea.
Everything clicked back into real time.
The van shuddered to a skewed halt over the spot where Claire had been standing a second before. The driver was white-faced. His heart had stopped momentarily. His fingers were still wrapped solidly around the wheel. His eyes bulged in their sockets like someone had whacked him with a spade on the back of his head. He wasn’t sure whether or not he’d hit the girl and she was underneath the front wheels, whether it had been some sort of spiritual apparition or whether he needed to see an optician.
With one last judder, the engine stalled.
He watched in fascination as a tall, slim woman, drenched to the skin, hair plastered to her head, dressed in a filthy suit with a tear right up the back of her skirt to her knickers, dashed past his vision.
The Promenade was being bombarded by a fusion of crashing waves and heavy rain, supported by the strong wind.
Claire was running along, perilously close to the railings next to the sea wall. Danny was behind her, leaving more space between herself and the angry sea. She was finding it increasingly difficult to make up any ground on Claire. The elements didn’t seem to want her to catch up — running against the gale-force wind was like swimming in porridge — she was approaching the limit of her fitness and also by now her ankle was hurting like hell.
All rational thoughts were then purged when a huge wave burst over the sea wall and landed on her, almost drowning her in an ice-cold sheet. For more than a few moments Danny had to fight against the terrifying elemental force of the water as it retreated back to the sea. It tore at her, trying to unbalance her and drag her back, pulling at her legs and ankles. It was all she could do to remain upright against such power which had knocked all the breath and spirit out of her.
She was worried about Claire: if the foolish youngster should get hit, would she be able to resist the strength of the sea?
With that in mind, Danny stopped chasing, giving Claire the opportunity to get away from both herself and the sea. Nothing was worth putting lives in danger.
Up ahead, Claire ceased running. She turned and faced Danny, looking like a half-drowned squirrel.
Some thirty yards separated the two females.
Claire shouted something which was whisked away in the wind and the water.
Danny took several paces towards her.
‘ Don’t come any closer!’ Claire yelled in warning.
Danny stood still. She could see utter anguish on the girl’s face.
‘ I won’t, I promise,’ Danny shouted in reply. ‘Just come away from the edge, it’s very dangerous. Then we can talk.’
‘ I’m not coming home. You can’t make me go home. If you do, I’ll run away again.’
‘ Okay, okay, just move away from there… Claire! LOOK OUT!’ Danny bellowed out the last two words of warning as she saw a massive swell build up and then break like a huge claw right over Claire.
The crushing weight of the water rammed the youngster to the ground as effectively as if a sack of coal had been dumped on her shoulders. When the water rushed back, its tentacles took her with it. She screamed and writhed in a fight against it, but it was no use. She was hauled across the concrete back towards the sea like a fish on the deck of a trawler, her screams muted as the bitter salt-water filled her nose and mouth and lungs, choking her.
For the second time in less than two minutes, Danny was compelled to watch in horrified fascination as the fate of the young girl was enacted in front of her eyes.
Then Danny moved into action. Drawing on her last reserves of strength and energy, she flung herself towards the pathetic figure.
She knew she would not make it, though.
Claire was too far away and being pulled too quickly. She would be gone in seconds… and explain that one, Detective Furness. Not now a fatal road traffic accident, but a drowning victim…
Claire slithered towards the precipice of the sea wall and was dashed sideways against one of the perpendicular posts of the railings — which she grabbed instinctively — but still the sea pulled her backwards and tried to unwrap her fingers from the post. She clung on desperately, but with failing strength and great pain inside her chest where she had slammed against the iron post. At the same time a new, even more powerful swell was building up behind her, one designed to finish the job started by its predecessor and claim a victim. Or two.
Danny saw it rise. She also saw that Claire’s progress had been halted by her collision with the railing post.
