There it was again, the noise behind her, to her left this time. Sally Chen glanced over her shoulder. Was there a shadow back there? Did it move?
The same noise again. Like the sound of fingers scraping down a blackboard.
She hurried forward and screamed.
Her foot had touched something soft, hairy. She looked down. A dead cat lay at her feet, its glassy eyes staring into space. She kicked it aside and hurried on.
Her whole body ached. The last nine hours fighting off the groping hands of strangers had exhausted her. The endless rounds of feverish dancing, fake drinks, begging for dance tickets and even more feverish whirling to the syncopated beats had made her as skittish as a cat in a room full of dogs.
There was the sound again, directly behind her this time and closer. She was tempted to bang on one of the doors that lined the lane. But no lights were on and what would she say? A noise had made her scared? They would slam the door in her face, cursing her for waking them up.
She broke into a run, ignoring the pain in her feet, feeling her breath coming quicker and quicker, her footsteps heavy on the cobbles of the lane.
The sound was still behind her, louder now, a scraping sound, getting louder.
It was darker here. Her home was in one of the older lanes; no electric light illuminated the dark corners. Instead, the houses rose on either side, looming over the narrow alleyway.
She ran round a corner. Something hit her, an arm grabbed her body, fingers closing around the top of her shoulder. She struggled against her attacker, hitting as hard as she could with her fists, kicking out with her legs.
‘Miss Chen, Miss Chen, it’s me, Ah Sing, the hot water seller from number twenty-three.’ The old man was cowering in front of her, his arms up to protect his face.
She stopped, her arms raised above her head, ready to strike hard again.
‘Sorry if I startled you. I’m on my way to start the boilers.’
She stared into the old man’s face. It was Ah Sing. The old man often poured her tea on her way out to work.
He stepped backwards, keeping an eye on her all the time. ‘You’re pretty good with your fists. You could be the next Huang Fei Hung, fight the British maybe, nearly killed me.’
‘I’m sorry, Ah Sing,’ she stammered. ‘Thought I heard a sound, behind me.’ She glanced back over her shoulder again.
Nothing.
‘You shouldn’t be walking home alone. Not at this time.’
She grabbed a few deep breaths of smoke-scented air to calm herself. ‘I’m fine, Ah Sing. My place is just over there.’
‘Do you want me to walk with you?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine. The noises of the night…’ Her voice trailed off as she realised how ridiculous she sounded.
‘I’ll watch while you go in.’
She walked along the lane to her front door. Ah Sing was still standing there, looking at her. She unlocked the door at the front, turning back to wave goodbye, but Ah Sing was gone.
Her heels clattered on the wooden stairs as she climbed to her apartment. She fumbled in her pocket for the other key and opened the front door.
Why wouldn’t it open?
She pulled the key out, checked that it was the right way up and pushed it into the lock again
Finally, it clicked. She pushed open the door and hurried in, slamming it behind her, slotting the deadbolt into place. Her flatmate could bang on the door when she came home… if she came home.
At last, Sally Chen was safe. She leant with her back to the door, breathing heavily. ‘Should have taken a taxi, hang the expense, the streets aren’t safe any more,’ she said out loud to herself, her voice echoing in the empty room.
A faint glow came from the kitchen.
Perhaps her flatmate hadn’t found a man to take her home after all. ‘Ah Mei, are you there?’ she asked tentatively.
No answer.
She stepped forward. The faint glow was brighter now. ‘Ah Mei, are you home?’
Again, no answer.
Why had Ah Mei left a light on in the kitchen? She knew it cost money. Why did she waste so much money?
She walked towards the kitchen. The light flickered. Ah Mei must have left the stove burning. She would talk to her tomorrow, tell her off for her extravagance when they had so little to spare.
She pushed open the kitchen door. It wasn’t the stove at all. It was a single candle burning on the table, its flame flickering in the breeze.
Why had Ah Mei lit a candle?
It was the question troubling her as the hand came over her mouth and she sucked in the first few breaths of formaldehyde.