مسافر وحشت‌زده

Chapter three

A frightened passenger

When I got back into the car, the hitch-hiker was still there. He did look very strange - for a moment, I thought he was crying.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but I hate accidents. Were– were they badly hurt?’

I looked at him quickly. His face was very pale. And– were his hands shaking?

‘Quite badly,’ I said. ‘One had a broken leg, and the young girl had a lot of glass in her face. But I think they’ll live.’

‘Oh, good. I– I’m sorry I didn’t get out, but you see– I hate seeing blood.’

I smiled. That’s all right. I don’t like it either, but I’m a police officer - it’s my job.’

‘Yes. I suppose you see a lot of accidents?’

‘Quite a lot, yes. But it’s funny, I’ve never seen one here before. The road’s very straight and it was clear of traffic, and it’s not dark or anything. A car stopped suddenly, and another car hit it. It’s very strange.’

For a moment my passenger didn’t answer. He just looked straight in front of him, the grey eyes in the pale face staring at the road and the traffic. Then he said, very quietly:

‘Cars do terrible things, don’t they? I hate cars. I hate them!’

I didn’t say anything for a minute. Then I asked him if he had a family in Lancaster.

‘Yes, I have one son. He’s at the University, you know. I’d been there just now, before you picked me up.’

‘Oh, really? Does he like it there?’

‘Yes, I think so. Yes, he likes it very much.’ He smiled at me - the same grey, pale smile. ‘But I still have to look after him, you know. He does silly things, and gets into lots of trouble. He needs me, you know - I’m sure he’d have an accident if I didn’t keep an eye on him all the time.’

That was a very strange thing to say about a son at university. My sister is at the University too, but I don’t think my father knows what she’s doing every day. I don’t think he wants to know - and I’m quite sure she doesn’t want her father ‘keeping an eye’ on her all the time!

But before I could say anything else, we had reached the centre of the town. I stopped the car outside the cemetery.

‘If you want the centre of the town, this is the best place,’ I said. ‘I’m driving home after this.’

‘This is perfect.’ He opened the door carefully and got out. Thank you very much. You’re very kind.’

‘My pleasure.’ I watched him walk away, a short, pale man in that strange, old-fashioned suit. Then I drove out into the traffic and forgot about him.