The inky darkness of the car park gave Sharon goosebumps, and she took one hand from the steering wheel to rub her other arm briskly. The place was deserted, and if there was a moon it was hidden behind clouds heavy with the promised snow. The bloke hadn’t arrived, but he had said he would give it five minutes after she left so no one would suspect. It only occurred to her briefly that she didn’t know his name. It wasn’t a relationship she was interested in, though, so it hardly mattered.

Driving to the far end of the car park where overhanging trees increased the blackness of the night, she turned her car to face the entrance. She wanted to make sure she would see him before he saw her.

She opened her window a fraction. The night was silent. She closed her eyes and tried to block out images of Jez’s smiling face.

A sound – a rattling noise – startled her. What was that? She switched on her headlights briefly and let out a long breath of relief. The wind had caught a discarded Coke can and was rolling it across the tarmac. She turned her lights off again, but the icy blast of air on her face and the pump of adrenaline seemed to have knocked some sense into her. What the hell was she doing? This was madness. She needed to go, to get out of there.

She reached for the ignition key, but it was too late. There was a new sound – a car engine.

Shit. It’s him.

What if she told him it had been a stupid idea? But what if he didn’t take it well? What if he raped her? She’d heard stories of girls being forced when they realised too late that they had made a mistake. She had to get away before he saw her.

Thanking God that her crappy car had a broken interior light, she quietly opened the door and slithered out, sliding the key into the lock with shaking fingers and turning it quickly. Bending double, Sharon scurried along the path by the edge of the still, black water, out of sight of the approaching car, and crouched behind a low shrub.

It wasn’t until the car turned into the car park that she realised its headlights weren’t on. Why would he do that?

The car circled the tarmac as if the driver was looking for someone, and she knew it could only be her. But then she looked again. The guy had told her to look out for his silver Golf. This car was dark, possibly even black, and much bigger than a Golf. It was someone else.

It didn’t matter who it was. She realised how vulnerable she was – a young woman alone in the early hours of the morning in the middle of nowhere. What an idiot. She had to stay hidden.