Sun of the Sleepless by Patrick Horne Read Free Book Online

must have been around then as she did remember her mother telling her how she should be good or Zwarte Piet would come and carry her off. She had been scared and promised to behave.
    On that occasion the grey figures standing guard were not herons, they were soldiers, soldiers with steel helmets and grey uniforms and the only bird she remembered was the depiction of a stern-faced eagle, its wings spread wide. Martha blinked her eyes to eradicate the memory before it led her to other more traumatic recollections and walked on past the waters.
    She looked across to the opposite side of the wide road, at the bright stalls of the market on the Lange Voorhout Plein, bringing her back to her purpose, immediately focussing and cheering her. She smiled and wondered what she might find today; she hoped that her new acquaintance Gertrude had managed to locate some nice books on art and beauty as she had requested, more, she was keen to know whether they could have an afternoon coffee together. It would give her something to look forward to after a morning spent wandering about the stalls and a generally otiose trip into the shopping district. She looked again and thought that she had spotted her - yes - the red hair. Had she just seen a flash of recognition upon her face? She could not be sure, even though her sight was good for her age she really needed her glasses to see clearly at this distance but she would know soon enough.
    Martha followed the contours of the chicane leading to Korte Voorhout, reached the pedestrian crossing opposite the market and halted. Traffic was so heavy along this road at this time of the morning and people in their cars could be so inconsiderate, always rushing. Those little scooters and mopeds were worst, always ridden so aggressively by youths, girls as well as boys, youngsters without a care in the world and a lifetime of experience to look forward to. She started to cross and reached about halfway before she paused in her thought and slowly turned to look back over her left shoulder at the heron, it was not clear but it seemed that it had gone, flown away to a different time and place.
    Martha turned back to the crossing but only managed to take a couple strides more before her last two split-second moments of consciousness were upon her. In the first instant she imagined that her rib-cage had been viciously squeezed in the grip of a giant hand, violently expelling every breath of air from her lungs. In the second instant she believed that the entire right side of her body had been bludgeoned by a thunderous blast that had smashed the side of her head and crushed her shoulder, her arm, her hip. All sentient thought was extinguished as her palsied body was sent spinning to the ground and then there was nothing, nothing at all.
    The tram driver was jolted to full attention at the sound of a dull thud and for an instant he was transfixed by the grotesque image of a horribly distorted face pressed against the flat glass of the windscreen before it disappeared from view. He jammed the brakes on and sensed the passengers of all three cars being thrown forward, hearing some cries of dismay and some swearing aimed at him; the tram quickly halted but without so much as a screech from the steel wheels on the tracks to indicate the urgency.
    He threw open the little driver's door and leapt from his seat in one motion, jabbing repeatedly at the glowing green 'open' button for the front set of doors. After what seemed an interminable second or two the door opened with a sigh and a clunk and in one bound the driver was down the steps to the road. At that point he simply froze.
    Glancing down he could see what appeared to be a foot in a low heeled shoe, a left foot he judged from the shape of the sole, poking out from immediately below the side of the nose of the tram. The foot was partially attached to what could have been a long rolled cut of meat straight from the butcher's block but, oddly, swathed in a stocking.