RISK ASSESSMENT

It's sometimes difficult for a man to appreciate just how vulnerable some women feel when walking at night although, nowadays, it's not just women who are at risk as our world becomes a more lawless place.

KING KONG

It had been a terrific film, Jill reflected as she walked to the bus station.

She’d thoroughly enjoyed the 1933 version of King Kong, this month’s offering at her local film club: somehow these old movies really captured the pioneer spirit of cinema.  

Early for the last bus, Jill stepped into the station’s late-night cafe and ordered a hot chocolate: just what she needed now the nights were growing colder.

The place wasn’t busy and the lad behind the counter seemed listless, bored. The chocolate, however, was great: hot, sweet and deliciously foamy.  

She noticed the guy early on. It was hard to miss him: a huge bloke, black-browed and bearded, dressed in grubby combats, with a brown beanie pulled down over what appeared to be a shaven head. His densely tattooed arms rested heavily on the tabletop as he glared around him. 

Jill quickly looked away and concentrated on her drink.

When she raised her head again he hadn’t moved. She was sure he was watching her. His gaze was steady, animalistic, disquieting.

There was something about him that seemed to exude menace. He seemed out of place amongst the shiny rows of cafe-tables. 

He had begun rolling a cigarette and she noticed how deftly his massive fingers moved.

He’s not allowed to smoke in here, she thought. He’s just the sort who would though, and you’d get an earful of abuse if you told him he shouldn’t. 

The lad behind the counter wouldn’t help: he looked as though he’d hide rather than argue with ... King Kong. Jill realised she’d already given the stranger a name.

Glancing towards the window, she saw the late-bus pull in and decided not to rush the last of her chocolate: the bus usually waited ten minutes or so before it left.

She watched King Kong out of the corner of her eye. He hadn’t lit up but was twirling the cigarette around between his fingers. He seemed to be talking to himself.

Suddenly Jill heard the bus-engine cough, saw the interior lights blink and heard the doors hiss shut.

Springing to her feet, she hurriedly set two pound coins on the counter and ran outside in time to see the bus move away with a belch of diesel.

The rotten sod, she thought. He’s cleared off early. Now I’ll have to walk.

Jill set off along Station Road, already feeling the cold seeping through her anorak. She hitched her shoulder-bag more tightly under her arm headed in the direction of Moorside, where the streetlights were better.

She had only gone a short distance when she heard footsteps behind her and, glancing back, saw a dark figure hurrying towards her.

Even in the limited light she knew right away that it was King Kong: he moved with an exaggerated roll as though his legs were carrying the weight of a torso too heavy for them.

Something about his hunched shoulders and the way he lowered his simian head filled Jill with terror. 

He’s been eyeing me in the cafe and now he’s going to try to grab me, she thought.

Suddenly aware of the darkened street, the absence of people, Jill panicked and broke into a trot. 

Kong too increased his pace: she could hear his heavy footsteps drumming on the uneven pavement.

Jill scrabbled with her shoulder-bag, couldn’t locate her mobile in the labyrinth of zipped pockets, and started to run.

She heard Kong, too, increase his pace and knew she’d never outrun him.

When her ankle twisted, Jill knew it was the end. With a desperate cry, she stumbled into a shop doorway and tried to make herself small.

Seconds later, King Kong was there, panting, looming over her, massive, dark and intimidating. His blackness seemed to swallow what little light there was as he reached towards her.

"Here, you left it in the cafe," he gasped handing Jill her mobile phone.