The Rats by James Herbert

disappointment. But the river itself was swarming with punts, canoes and row-boats.
    ‘Let’s have a drink.’ Harris turned towards the nearest pub, passing windows full of people devouring meatpies and sausage, egg and chips. They entered a dark bar, all wood and stone floors. The barmaids were wearing period costumes and smiling cheerfully as they coped with the crowds.
    This is more like it, he thought, ordering a pint of Brown, a red wine and two ham and tomato sandwiches, and took the wine over to Judy who was sitting on a bench seat at an old round oak table and returned for the beer. Sitting next to her, he squeezed her hand to show her his mood was no reflection on her.
    ‘This isn’t so bad, is it?’ He turned to study a large square timber coming from the floor and supporting the low ceiling.
    He reached out to let his fingers run along the deep grain.
    Plastic. ‘Shit?
    As they left the pub, it began to drizzle with rain. Although it was a fairly light shower, shop doorways became crowded with people. Plastic macs appeared and were draped over heads and shoulders, Harris and Judy were bumped by tourists running for cover.
    ‘Let’s go, Jude,’ said Harris, taking her arm firmly and leading her into the road. They quickly walked back to the car, both fighting the feeling of claustrophobia. They sat in the car and caught their breath.
    Harris was halfway through a cigarette when the sun came out and the rain stopped.
    People emerged from their shelters, laughing and calling to one another. A coach pulled up on the opposite side of the road and unloaded a stream of sightseers, all stretching and yawning, and looking for the toilets.
    ‘Look at those women,’ the teacher said in amazement.
    ‘They all look the same. They’re all fat, and they’re all wearing glasses. I don’t believe it!’
    Judy burst into laughter. He was right. They did all look alike. For some reason, he felt better. At least he saw the joke of his shattered illusion of Shakespeare’s birth-place.
    He drove out of the crowded town, heading into the country.
    As they left the town behind he felt a deep sense of relief.
    He could breathe again. He didn’t fully understand why the crowds had affected him so much. He’d had a feeling of revulsion towards the people, not as individuals, but en-masse. Strangely enough, it had been slightly akin to the revulsion he’d felt towards the rats. As though they were a threat.
    ‘Jude, I’m not becoming a head-case am I?’
    ‘No, darling. You just came into contact with too many people at the wrong time and in the wrong place.
    The point of coming here was to get away from it all and we ran slam-bang right into the middle of it again.’
    The quieter the roads became, the freer he felt. Ahead they spotted a high-curving hill the top crowned with trees and cultivated fields below, its shades ranging from the brightest yellow to the deepest green.
    Sheep grazed on the wilder middle slopes.
    ‘Fancy a climb? Harris’ asked Judy.
    ‘Okay.’
    He pulled over on to a grassy verge and locked the car.
    They climbed a fence and skirted around the edges of the field, Judy explaining the difference between wheat, corn and barley, Harris enjoying his ignorance.
    Watched by the sheep they climbed over a gate, the hill now becoming much steeper. As they got nearer the top, the exertion began to tell and they laughingly clung to each other, occasionally pulling the other down. Finally they reached the trees and found a path leading through them to the summit. Here was a plateau of still more fields, stretching across to the downward slopes and shading into woods again.
    Lying back on the grassy slope, they rested, taking in the surrounding hills, the tiny houses, the grey lines that were roads. A slight breeze stirred the otherwise warm air.
    ‘Better now?’ Judy asked.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Deep breaths.’
    He reached for her. ‘It’s so quiet. No people. It somehow puts everything into its right