The Valley of Longing 3

Jack remained in the doorway long enough to acknowledge Lily’s wave and then he closed the door. Making his way into the living room, he collected the yellow mugs he and Lily had used so he could take them into the kitchen to be washed up. Once that was done, which didn’t take him long, he made himself a sandwich, to take care of his hunger, and returned to the living room and his desk. He intended getting on with his novel, he wanted to get at least a bit more done that day, but no matter how hard he tried, he could neither settle nor think of what to write next. The only thing he could think of was Lily Potgieter’s orange underwear, which she had contrived to flash at him multiple things. Finally, he pushed his chair back from the desk and got to his feet to find some other way of distracting him from his thoughts. Lily was pleased with how her visit with Jack Wild had gone, he had not come right out with a declaration of interest, but she knew when someone was attracted to her. The attraction she knew she wanted; he had already agreed to her returning with her manuscript so he could look it over - she was not so vain that she thought her, as yet unfinished, novel was perfect, it needed work, and that was where Wild came in. He had agreed to give her some guidance to make it better and, more importantly, to get his agent to read it when it was done. She was so pleased with how the encounter had gone that she didn’t notice that Louise Hawkins was still in her garden, watching her, as she walked down the road. When she reached the end of the trio of the houses, she crossed the road and approached the gate that separated the road from a field belonging to the Wright Farm. The gate was not locked and she slipped through it without a care for the fact that she was trespassing on private property; she only cared for cutting the journey home in half. With her successful visit with Jack Wild keeping her mind occupied, it was no surprise that she was unaware of the Land Rover until it skidded to a halt, practically on her heels. It startled her out of her thoughts and made her jump; when she came down, she quickly turned to see what had caused the noise - it was a green Land Rover, identical to the one she had just passed in Jack Wild’s drive, though she couldn’t tell if it was the author behind the wheel for the sun was shining on the windscreen and reflecting off it glaringly. Lily remained blinded by the sun’s reflection as the driver’s door opened, and so had no idea who it was that shouted at her. ‘Whore!! Cock - teasing whore!’ There was such anger and hatred in the voice that it was impossible for her to tell who it belonged to; it held not one recognizable element, and she could not think who would want to speak to her in such a way. Her inability to tell who it was speaking, she could tell that it was a man but that was it, combined with the anger and the hatred to make her concerned, even a little afraid. It suddenly occurred to her that it was not such a good idea for her to have left the road, and nervously she looked first one way and then the other as she tried to decide what she should do. ‘What’s your problem?’ she demanded as she moved around the Land Rover so she could start back the way she had come - returning to the road seemed like the best thing she could do. ‘You. You think people don’t see what a Cock - teasing whore you are, but they do.’ The anger and intensity in the voice increased. ‘You dress like a tart; you act like one as well. You make everyone think they can have a piece of you, if they’ll do whatever it is you want. You buy your grades with your body, you buy everything with your body, and you don’t care who you buy it from. You don’t care who you buy it from!!! You’d even sleep with Raymond Potgieter if it’d get you something you want.’ The verbal attack, especially the suggest that she would sleep with her own great-uncle, struck Lily like a physical blow and left her reeling. She wanted to say something, anything, to defend herself, but no words would come. ‘It’s time you leaned what happens to cock-teasing bitches.’ Lily’s fear became almost overwhelming and she picked up her pace while keeping an eye over her shoulder. She was a good runner, but didn’t want to break into a run until it was absolutely necessary - she preferred to conserve her energy until she needed it. ‘You’re just like Lynne.’ Lily felt a ball of cold dread settle heavily into her stomach at that; Lynne had been missing for a week, and now she had the distinctly unpleasant feeling that she was going to find out what had happened to her fellow lady. That knowledge didn’t help her, though it did intensify her desire to get away before she suffered the same fate. It was just as well she had one eye over her shoulder, for he suddenly rushed around the Land Rover and lunged towards her. She reacted the moment she saw him get close, pivoting, she slid her bag off her shoulder and swung it with all her strength. Her timing could not have been more perfect; the bag crashed into her would - be - attacker just before he reached her, throwing him into the side of his vehicle; from there he fell to the ground at the edge of the chest - high golden maize. Dropping the bag, Lily ran for the gate. She couldn’t be sure if she was being pursued, the ground under her feet was uneven and she didn’t dare risk looking back in case she lost her footing, but she believed she was. The thought spurred her on until, after she had covered about a third of the distance to the gate, she stumbled and fell, her momentum sending her sprawling along the dirt path. Winded more than hurt she scrambled to her feet, where she discovered she had sprained her ankle. She was reduced to a hobble after that, and over her own, too slow, footsteps she could hear Him getting closer. She thought about calling for help, but decided she was better off saving her breath for her flight; the only person who might hear her was Louise Hawkins, and that was doubtful given how far away her house was. She made it about half - way to the gate before being caught. One Moment she was moving along at a fast hobble, the next she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head as she was yanked off her feet by her hair. She found herself flat on her back and was then spun around to face Him, before being pinned to the ground by his weight as he sat on her. ‘Dink jy dus snaaks Haaa d’ya, Hitting someone with a bag of books?’ The question was snarled in a voice that remained unrecognizable, though there was something familiar about it that time. ‘How ‘bout this?’ He smashed his fist into the side of her jaw. ‘Think that’s funny? How ‘bout this?’ He hit her again, and then reached down to grab her skimpy top, which tore easily in response to a quick yank from his strong fingers. Lily was dazed by the two blows but she was a fighter. She couldn’t see clearly enough to be sure of where she was aiming but that didn’t stop her lashing out. She bucked and heaved, writhed and twisted, but most of all she struck out again and again with her fists as she sought to make Him get off her or shift his weight so she could get away. When her efforts failed to get Him to move, or even to stop his painful groping of her breasts, Lily changed tactics. Instead of lashing out blindly, landing blows that had barely any strength behind them, she sought to use the only weapon she had that might do some damage - her nails. Lily had only a moment to enjoy drawing blood and a quick curse, for her defiance inflamed his anger. He hit her again and again, until he succeeded in knocking out two of her teeth, one of which she managed to spit out before it went down her throat, the other she didn’t. She was unconscious before her jaw broke with a sharp crack, which was a blessing since it meant she couldn’t see the lust - filled expression on His face as he finished tearing her top in two, and then ripped from her the scrap of bright orange that protected the last vestiges of her dignity. Michael Brown was elbow deep in soapsuds when the front door banged open. Since the weather was calm, he could only conclude that someone had entered the station, an angry someone since calm people didn’t bang doors. Knowing that angry people didn’t like to be kept waiting, he pulled his hands from the sink and grabbed a tea towel to dry his hands off with as he made for the reception counter. ‘Good evening, Mrs Potgieter, how can I help you?’ he asked when he saw who was waiting for him. Theresa Potgieter fixed the constable with her sternest look. ‘There’s nothing good about this evening.’ she said stiffly. ‘My daughter is missing; I want you to find her.’ ‘Your daughter - Lily?’ Brown queried. ‘Of course Lily, who do you think I was talking about? I have only the one daughter , as you should know.’ Brown flushed at that, but didn’t respond, instead he said. ‘When did you last see Lily?’ ‘What difference does that make?’ Theresa demanded. ‘She’s missing and I want you to find her, that’s all that matters.’ ‘It’s not as simple as that, Mrs Potgieter,’ Brown said, wishing that he were not the one stuck dealing with this problem. ‘Lily is sixteen…’ Theresa flared up again. ‘I know how old Lily is, what difference does her age make to her being missing?’ ‘Potentially a lot.’ From under the counter Brown took out a notepad and pen. ‘Being sixteen, Lily cannot be reported missing until she has been gone for at least a day, unless you have cause for concern, And given Lily’s history, and her habit of doing whatever she wishes, I think it likely the inspector will insist that we wait until she has been out of contact for 48 HRS to make a search. There’s every chance Lily is off with friends, probably in town. She’ll turn up when she’s finished having fun.’ ‘48 HRS! You want me to wait two days before you’ll consider looking for Lily? How can you even suggest such a thing? Especially when poor Lynne Hendricks is still missing after a week, and you haven’t got any idea of what’s happened to her. Don’t try and deny it,’ Theresa told Brown when the constable opened his mouth to respond. ‘Did you even look for her after the first day? Or did you just give her parents meaningless platitudes?’ ‘We searched for her,’ Brown said defensively. ‘We searched the entire Dorpie, and we spoke to just about everyone; no-one saw her after she walked past the Bar and crossed the bridge to go on up to the Wright Farm though. We’ve searched again and again, throughout the week, without any success. You can’t compare the two situations, though,’ he told her. ‘Lynne Hendricks is a young lady who’s never been in trouble, always told her parents exactly where she was going, what she was doing, who she was meeting and when she would be home. The same can’t be said for Lily; Lily has a long history of bunking off school, staying out all night, getting into trouble of one sort or another, and associating with people she would be better off avoiding….;

WRITERS NOTE - THE FOLLOWING CHAPTERS TO FOLLOW CONTAIN GRAPHIC SCENES...PLEASE BE WARNED...

THANKS ME..