Read Trusted Like The Fox for Free Online

back and watched her fall heavily on to the threadbare carpet. Her hat fell off and her arms and legs sprawled like those of a sawdust doll that has been tossed into a corner.
    He stood hesitating. He had been too close to hunger himself not to know that she wasn’t faking. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything with her until she had eaten, and cursing her under his breath he went to a cupboard, took from it a pair of grey flannel trousers and a worn sports coat. If he had to go it would be safer to put on something different to the suit he was now wearing. The police were quick. They might have his description on the streets by now.
    He changed, looked at her in disgust once more and then left the room. For a moment he paused at the head of the stairs, then ran quickly down to the front door.
    He walked stiffly along the street, his eyes watchful, the whole of his body screwed up for instant flight. The policeman was still sauntering along fifty yards or so ahead of him. Ellis crossed the street, walked into a café. The girl who served him with three meat pies, rolls and a jam tart seemed interested in his scar. He felt her eyes on his face, and he scowled at her, snatching the two paper bags from her and slamming down the money. She muttered something under her breath as she went to the till, and in her turn slammed down the change in front of him.
    He turned away, hating her and stepped into the street again. The policeman was standing at the corner, looking in his direction. Ellis hesitated for a moment, then walked back to the little grey house, his shoulders hunched, his eyes on the still figure in blue.
    As he opened the front door, he looked back over his shoulder. The girl who had served him in the café had come to the shop door and was watching him. He made an obscene gesture in her direction, opened the door and entered the house.
    He could hear Mrs Wheeler singing somewhere in the basement. Her reedy voice grated on his nerves. She was singing a hymn:
    Rock of ages, cleft for me,
    Let me hide myself in Thee.
    His mouth twisted bitterly as he mounted the stairs. Let me hide myself in Thee. He’d have to do something better than that if he was going to save his neck, he thought, pushing open the bedroom door and entering the room.
    The girl still lay on her side, her head thrown back and her arms and legs sprawled out.
    He stood over her, scowling. He could have ditched her so easily in the tram, he thought, but he had to behave like a lunatic and bring her here; now he was landed with her. He knew at the back of his mind that he had brought her here for a purpose. Maybe she was plain, but she was a woman, could be useful if handled the right way, and the fact that she was deaf made things safer for him. It hurt his pride to admit that he intended to keep her with him, but that was what he was going to do.
    He drew back his foot and began to kick her. She moaned, tried to move away. The sharp nagging kicks jarred her, and finally she sat up, pushed his foot away with her hand.
    When he was sure she wasn’t going to flop again, he opened one of the paper bags and emptied the pies over her. They fell in her lap, on her head and one of them rolled near his foot. Out of sheer spiteful devilry, he stamped on the pie, hooked the mess off his instep and dropped it into her lap.
    “Go on, eat it,” he said, “if you’re so hungry.”
    He turned away in disgust as she crammed the ruined pie into her mouth.
    He had seen so many people behaving like wolves during his stay in Belsen that the novelty of torturing her fell a little flat. He walked once more to the window, looked out. He stood there until he remembered he still had the paper bag containing the jam tart in his hand. With a sudden vicious spurt of rage to think that he should have taken the trouble to have bought food for this snivelling creature he deliberately crushed the bag flat. He felt the jam ooze inside the bag and the flimsy pastry crumple.