Risk the trip to the village

From PenguinWiki

The track to the village was slippery and by the time she was at the outlying cottages her thighs were aching intolerably and her waterproof trousers were spattered with mud. Rain was trickling down her collar. The lighted windows of the pub beckoned her: a hot meal, a glass of beer... her mouth watered. Wiping her hair from her dripping face she realised that her hands too were muddy and her face now matched them. She turned away from the pub - she could hardly walk in there looking like this - and went on down the street to the corner shop and Post Office. An unexpected gust of wet wind blew her forward and she steadied herself on the lamp-post by the door. A motor-cycle was chained to it, a powerful Honda. She stopped to admire it, to compare it to hers, and realised in a sick moment that she recognised it. Two helmets were tied to the handlebar: one she knew, one was unfamiliar.

Jane braced herself against the increasing wind, and wondered... maybe this was the time and the place to face him...or them. The Post Office must be a safe enough place; if there was trouble they would surely help or at least ring the police. But having distanced herself and begun to feel sane again, wasn't it better to go on hiding? No bike could get up the track where she was camped; at the same time no-one would hear if she screamed. Even so, her instinct was to get back to the tent and maybe move further up the hill, into the spinney she had seen.