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It was only after midnight, an hour after
Geoffrey had ridden into the gathering storm to try and fetch the doctor, that
the midwife had grown alarmed. It would be nice to believe he had performed
heroically, but he supposed it was only that escape thing again, because the
pain had been really dreadful. Long enough, at any rate, to have awakened not
to find herself on her back lawn where she had been picking flowers, but buried
alive in her own coffin. Cut to the brake-pedal, which sinks bonelessly to the
mat when the mans foot (he saw the foot clearly, clad in a 1940s-style airtip
shoe) stomps on it.
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