The Passenger

THE PASSENGER

She stood at the end of the drive, heels sinking into the soft earth, tension rising.  The taxi was late.  In spite of her impatience she waited motionless in the shadows, her black dress and raven hair rendering her almost invisible against the background of trees and bushes.  There was very little traffic passing at that time of the night, even so she had learned to be careful.

Eventually the taxi arrived, its headlights piercing the darkness.  She moved forward swiftly, choosing to sit beside the driver.  Not daring to take the back seat, knowing that he might use the rear mirror to look at her.  The risk was too great.

‘To Whitenhalt, as quickly as you can,’ she instructed him.

The driver’s pulse rose as the woman sat down beside him, her perfume pervading the front of the cab.  He glanced at the clock on the dashboard and wondered why such a beautiful woman was travelling home alone so late at night.

She settled into the taxi, smoothing her dress and laying a fur stole across her legs.  She saw him looking at her.

‘Hurry please’, her tone was commanding ‘if you go to the roundabout I will direct you from there.’

‘Don’t worry,’ the man replied, ‘I know the village well, I live there.’

She sat back quickly, diamond earrings swinging against her face.  It was unfortunate that he was a local driver.  She swore silently to herself.  He was bound to ask questions.  She turned her face to the window, away from him, her full lips pouted.

The driver contemplated his passenger.  She was a real beauty.  Stunning, in fact, and expensively dressed.  A model perhaps.  Everything about her said Paris or New York, except her accent.  He tried to place it as he left the roundabout and headed for the dual carriageway out of town.

He put his foot down and the speedometer rose to 70 mph.  She could have been Italian or Spanish, but the accent was wrong.  His curiosity got the better of him,

‘You are new to these parts, aren’t you?’ he ventured.

‘Yes’, she replied but said no more and continued to gaze steadfastly into the darkness.

She had seen the look on the taxi driver’s face when he had picked her up.  She was used to having an effect on men.  She was glad that she was beautiful, it meant she could be choosy.  When she saw what she wanted she was able to take it.  She had wanted Tim.  Admittedly he was young but his youth and vitality were the very qualities that had attracted her.  She had been patient with him and taken her time.  It had paid off.

Tonight had been the turning point in their relationship.  At last she had seen the need in his eyes, heard the desperation in his voice.  Yes, Tim was hers now, for as long as she wanted him.

She touched her cheeks, they were hot and glowing. 

‘I must have had too much to drink,’ she thought.  She reminded herself to be careful or she would spoil everything.  Her last relationship had come to an untimely end because of a tendency on her part to over indulge.

‘We are approaching the village now’ the taxi driver’s voice broke into her thoughts.  ‘Where shall I drop you?’

‘About a mile beyond the village’ she directed, ‘Homeloam Lodge.’

The man was surprised.  It was common knowledge that a wealthy family had bought the Lodge, but no-one had met them.  Even enquiries of the local postman had drawn a complete blank.

The taxi swept through the village and out again into the darkness of the surrounding countryside, slowing down as they approached the Lodge.

The long winding drive to the Lodge  became ablaze with security lights.  The girl got out and turned to pay the fare placing the exact money on the man’s outstretched hand.  He waited, expecting the customary tip.  She smiled at him then, her teeth white against the scarlet of her lips.

For a moment their eyes met.  A shiver of horror swept through the driver’s body, his foot jerked off the clutch and the taxi lurched forward and stalled.  He stamped down on the clutch, knocked the gear into first and set the engine roaring.  The taxi disappeared down the drive leaving behind a trail of exhaust gas and scattered gravel.

A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she quietly entered the Lodge.  Slipping off her shoes the woman walked soundlessly across the heavy pile carpet.  The others would have returned by now and she did not want to wake them.

She climbed the stairs to her room, closing the door softly behind her.  An exquisitely carved standard lamp with a red silk shade cast a softly diffused light over the room.  She crossed to the window and gazed at the thin white line appearing on the horizon.  It would soon be dawn.  She shivered, pulled  a cord and the heavy curtains closed with an effortless swish.

It was time to go to bed.  She walked towards a large wooden chest, carved to match the lamp and lifted its heavy lid.  She breathed deeply as the aroma of the soil of Transylvania rose to greet her, then lifting a shapely leg, she climbed into it, closing the lid securely before falling into a deep sleep.