The Evil Beneath by A.J. Waines Page A

could hear the corresponding handset ringing inside the building.
    ‘I see we’ve got company this afternoon,’ I said. ‘I’m in the car-park - is everyone all right?’
    ‘We’re all okay,’ said Amanda. Her voice was far from steady. ‘Dina’s called the police.’
    ‘How long ago?’
    ‘About ten minutes. They started growing in numbers about twenty-five minutes ago.’
    ‘They’re allowed to protest,’ I said. ‘But the police will pounce if they’re stopping anyone from coming in or if there’s any intimidation.’
    ‘I know. It’s happened before. Last year we had the same thing - Pro-Life demonstrators. We got paint thrown on our cars. Are you coming in?’
    I hesitated. ‘Yes. If I don’t appear soon, I’m in trouble.’ I laughed, but it wasn’t sincere.
    I craned my neck to look at the gathering of people and rolled down the window a couple of inches. They were chanting the phrase
Save their lives
over and over. Several had t-shirts with
Say No to Abortion
in black letters on the front and an old bed-sheet stretched between two poles had the words
Protect the Embryo
painted across it. One man was holding a rough painting of a gravestone, which read
Here lies the Unborn Child
.
    The front door of the clinic opened and a young woman tentatively slid out, her head down. A man stepped forward, shouting at her, pushing a leaflet into her hand. She lifted up her arms to protect her face, letting the leaflet fall, and pressed her way through the tight-knit crowd. Once free, she ran towards the gate and disappeared. I watched two women approach the gate from the street and stop dead. They looked at each other, exchanged a few words and then did a U-turn off the premises.
    ‘This isn’t fair,’ I said out loud, still inside the car.
    I got out, clutching my bag close to my chest. There might be women coming today who have been raped or who have been told by their GP that their lives are in danger, if they went through with their pregnancy. They shouldn’t be bullied; they must decide for themselves. I was preparing my speech just in case I needed it.
    As I approached the group, a woman rounded on me.
    ‘You should be ashamed of yourself!’
    Others were booing and an elderly woman thrust a leaflet into my face.
    ‘You don’t know what these women go through,’ I shouted, but my voice was drowned out by the chanting and jeering. I elbowed my way towards the main entrance and was reaching out to open the door when a man pushed me in the back. I fell against the glass door, hitting my forehead. I tried to turn round, but the man was pressing against me, his chin in my hair. I managed to wriggle away from him, but he pulled my coat and wrenched me round to face him. He looked like he’d been in a fight. There was an open cut in his eyebrow and a bruise under his eye.
    ‘You murderer!’ he hissed. I could smell alcohol and stale tobacco on his breath. I tried to turn away, but the weight of the mob held me so tightly that I couldn’t move. ‘You’ll pay for this,’ he said, spittle flying into my face. The door behind me shook and I heard someone banging hard from the inside.
    Suddenly the group opened out, like melting ice rolling away. Three policeman were heading my way.
    ‘You all right?’ said one of the officers.
    I was wiping away the man’s saliva with a tissue. ‘Yes. I just need to get inside.’
    The police officer instructed the man to stand aside and I managed to pull open the door. I half-fell through and stumbled into Dina’s arms. I was still reeling from my unnerving encounter with Mr Fin - the last thing I needed was another one.
    ‘Shit! Are you okay, Juliet?’
    ‘Yeah. Just shaken.’ I straightened my coat, leaning against the reception desk as pin-pricks of white stars began to spin across my vision. ‘Any chance of a glass of water?’
    I flopped into a nearby chair and Amanda put a plastic cup in my hand.
    ‘No one hurt you?’ she asked, leaning beside me,