A Body in the Lakes by Graham Smith (great books of all time .TXT) 📕

some men, have endured. I haven’t; I’m one of the lucky ones, and yes, not only do I know how lucky I am, I give thanks for that good fortune on a daily basis.

You have probably noticed the scar on my face by now though. My story is this: I was in a bar four years ago when two guys started to throw punches at one another. One of them picked up a bottle. The man he thrust it at deflected the bottle and it smashed into my cheek.

I had five different operations and skin grafts to repair the damage that bottle did to my face.

The men who were fighting were never identified or punished for what they did to me. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That doesn’t matter, I got no justice.

Until I could join the police, I was a model. My looks were taken from me. I got no justice.

I had the love and support of my family. That helped more than I’ll ever be able to tell them.

I had offers of counselling. I said no. Looking back, I know that it might have been better for me if I’d said yes.

That’s why I’m urging you to contact one of (insert name of charity)’s advisors. They are here to help. They’ll give you emotional support and legal advice. Please, I implore you, don’t feel that you’re alone, don’t think there’s no one to help you. That’s what (insert name of charity) is here for. To help you.

Contact (insert name of charity) and talk to one of our advisors.

You will receive confidential counselling.

You’ll be advised on how best to proceed if you want to report your attack and get justice.

We will help you find a lawyer who’s experienced in dealing with sexual assault cases.

We will support you emotionally.

We will be there for you.

I’m not going to lie to you, it will be tough. But we’re here to make it easier for you.

I didn’t get justice, but you can. Contact (insert name of charity and phone number, website etc) and you can get the counselling I refused, and the justice I was denied.

The person who sexually assaulted you chose to do it. Now it’s your choice as to whether or not they face justice. Take the power back, let your rapist rot in prison while you embark on an exciting new chapter of your life.

As soon as he’d read Beth’s statement, Forster had recognised its power, how it laid Beth wide open. Now that her rant had gone viral, he had to harness her popularity and cash in on the goodwill that was flowing her way as soon as possible.

He lifted the phone and called a friend who ran a small charity for the homeless. To fully maximise the ‘Beth effect’, as he thought of it, he’d have to move quickly before the world became fixated on something else.

Forty-Four

Beth dashed into the greenhouse after Gracie and was hit by a wave of sweltering heat. It was filled with the heady aroma of peat and the chemical smell of a less-natural fertiliser. Gracie was twenty yards ahead of her and pulling plants off the timber benches that filled the greenhouse as he tried to escape. Beth couldn’t reach anything like her top speed as she had to hurdle the plants as she went.

Her work shoes were sensible flats, but they had smooth soles which didn’t offer a fraction of the grip the trainers she wore for her morning runs did. Try as she might to increase her pace, she could feel her feet slipping a little whenever she had to make the slightest turn, or when she planted a foot to leap over one of the obstacles Gracie was scattering in her path.

She exited the greenhouse and saw Gracie ahead of her. He was heading for the treeline and his back was straight as his arms pumped at his sides. On this gravel area Beth could get more traction and by the time she got to the treeline she’d gained five yards on Gracie. Rather than waste her breath shouting after him, Beth concentrated on getting her breathing right as she lengthened her stride.

Beth’s morning runs were about building stamina and staying fit. Her competitive nature had her trying to improve her times for the various routes she ran, but she was a distance runner rather than a sprinter. If she was to catch Gracie, then she’d have to get him soon before she blew herself out.

She ducked under low branches as she wound her way between the trees. The soft carpeting of pine needles felt greasy beneath her feet, but she powered on.

The gap between them was less than ten yards when Beth’s foot slipped on a tree root. She didn’t fall, but it took her several paces to recover from the stumble.

Gracie wasn’t looking back at her; his entire focus was on getting away. Beth watched as he emerged from the trees and crossed one of the pathways. A family cycling along the path stopped to watch the man who’d dashed in front of them; their presence creating a ten-foot-wide barrier of bicycles and Lycra.

Beth cut behind them lest they set off to continue their journey. Her breaths might have been coming in pained gasps, but she could feel her stubbornness kicking in and knew that there was no way she could let Gracie escape. She pumped her legs and arms in a steady rhythm as she chased after him. Every time he altered course to skirt an obstacle she was able to gain a few inches on him by taking a straighter line.

He burst out of the treeline into an area where there were picnic tables. At this hour the tables were empty, but beyond the picnic tables, children were playing in a woodland adventure fort, while their parents sat on benches and watched over them.

Gracie rounded a picnic table and went to dash past the woodland fort. Beth was only two