‘Out alone, are you?’ one of them said with a smile.
‘Just trying to get home, if you’d step out of the way,’ she said brusquely, giving them her most steely glare.
‘Well, let’s see what you’ve got before we let you go, shall we?’
‘I don’t think so,’ she snapped, and with a quick flick of her hand, she brought out her pocketknife, striding forward to pass.
They stood aside for her, and she was feeling a wave of relief, when one of them took her arm from behind, buckling her knee to bring her to the ground, her knife dropping with a clatter beside her. Her head hit the ground hard, the world going hazy.
She heard a sharp, long scream, only to realize it was her own voice, vulnerable and raw with fear. An intense pain emanated from her head and her arm, where someone was using a razor blade to open the clasp of her bracelet, gashing her arm in the process.
A large hand came over her mouth, shutting her up.
She could barely breathe, struggling to get free. But they were pinning her down, going through her pockets, her purse emptied onto the tarmac, coins jangling as they vanished into someone else’s pocket.
How was this happening to her?
She began to panic, worrying what was going to happen once they’d taken her belongings.
Something inside her broke as she struggled for breath.
That’s when a voice rang out, and the men stopped.
‘Get away from her, you animals. Billy Norton, is that you? And Gary Brimmer? What will your mothers say?’
The hand came off her mouth, and Miranda looked up to see Betty standing there, rolling pin in hand, pulling one of the men up by the arm.
‘That’s my niece. You’d better let her go, or I’ll report your names to the police station.’
They looked at her, unsure.
‘And hand over her belongings, you oafs. You should be ashamed of yourselves.’
Pain throbbed from Miranda’s arm as she picked herself up off the ground, wiping the grit from her hands. The men handed Betty her valuables, mumbling apologies as she barked at them about manners and finding a respectable job.
And then they were gone, vanished into the night.
She was alone with Betty, who put an arm around her to help her home.
‘You were lucky I heard the noise,’ Betty said, straightening Miranda’s clothes, which had been torn and cut in the attack. But when they got into the light of the house, she looked at Miranda, concerned, and put her arms around her, ‘It’s all right, love. You’re safe here with me.’
And it was only then that Miranda began to cry.
Not only were huge tears running from her eyes, but she was sobbing, jittery and uncontrollably.
Get a grip!she urged herself.
But her energy was drained, her body in agony, and her brain a mush of fear and relief.
‘Thank God you came,’ was all she could manage.
Betty pulled her closer. ‘Shh, it’s all right, dear. You’re with me now.’
It took longer than usual to get up the stairs to the bathroom, where Betty found a cloth to clean a few cuts and a very large gash on her forearm.
‘Hold this on it, and I’ll go and fetch my medical things,’ she said, returning a minute later with a hefty box of supplies. ‘Let’s see what we have.’
Within minutes, Betty had taken out all sorts of ointments and creams, before finding some medical thread and a needle.
