head. ‘I don’t know. It might not have been a man. He had something over his face. That’s why I was scared. I thought it was a ghost. So I shut my eyes and he went away.’
The boy was clearly confused by the remnants of his nightmare. And who could blame him? It sounded pretty scary.
‘It was just a dream,’ Nicole reassured him. ‘There’s no man in the house and there’re no such things as ghosts.’
But Michael wasn’t listening. In fact he could barely keep his eyes open.
‘We should put him back in bed,’ Nicole said, standing up. ‘He’s still half asleep.’
I carried him upstairs and by the time we tucked him under his duvet he was out cold.
‘What time is it?’ Nicole asked.
I was still wearing my watch so I held it up for her to see. It was 3 a.m.
‘I’m going to have a cup of tea,’ she said. ‘You want to join me?’
I opted for something stronger than tea – a large, neat whisky, compliments of our landlord. I felt I needed it. My thoughts were still burning like a fuse and I couldn’t shift the unease in the pit of my stomach. Nicole sat at the kitchen table. She was pale and glassy-eyed, but she did not seem as troubled as I was.
‘Try to relax, Jack,’ she said. ‘Michael is OK and so are we. I’m a hundred per cent convinced that he was talking in his sleep having wandered downstairs. And because he was rambling on about nothing it sounded to us like there was more than one voice.’
‘You reckon that’s all it was?’ I said, incredulous.
She nodded. ‘Think about it for a minute, Jack. We know now that nobody has broken in. The house is all locked up. We also know we’re all suffering from jet lag and that’s bound to affect our sleep patterns. Plus, you and I had a fair amount to drink before we went to bed. We polished off a bottle of champagne between us.’
‘I suppose you could be right,’ I said.
‘Of course I am. I can’t in all honesty see that there can be any other explanation – unless we’re prepared to accept that the house is haunted and we’ve experienced some paranormal event.’
‘Do you think that’s possible?’
A tight smile twisted on her lips. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. It’ll take more than one weird night to change my views on that particular subject.’
I fired down the whisky and felt it bite into the back of my throat. Nicole was probably right, I decided. In any case, there was no point staying up for the rest of the night fretting over it. In the morning the whole episode would no doubt seem far less alarming.
So we finished our drinks and I did one more tour of the house before we went upstairs. We got into bed. I kissed Nicole and turned off the light. Then I listened hard for any signs of life downstairs. But there were no voices or faint vibrations. And no sense of any other presence in the house.
Nicole was asleep within minutes, but it took much longer for me to drop off. My mind was awash with all the strange things that had happened to us since that morning. The snake. The doors. The lights. The voices. Michael’s curious dream.
And once again I found myself asking that same, disturbing question :
Could these events somehow be connected?
13
T emple woke up just before his alarm went off. It was 6 a.m. He’d had a restless night, taunted by vivid images of the dead girl out on Cranes Moor. He would have to see her again today in the mortuary and the prospect filled him with dread. It was an aspect of the job he detested and he always found it hard to suppress his emotions.
He would have been quite happy to stay in bed and spend the day snuggling up to Angel. She had that effect on him when she stayed over. Made him realize that the job did not have to be all-consuming; it
was
possible to become detached from it, however briefly, without feeling guilty.
It was to his eternal shame that he hadn’t discovered this sooner so that he could have spent more quality time with his late wife. But during their
The boy was clearly confused by the remnants of his nightmare. And who could blame him? It sounded pretty scary.
‘It was just a dream,’ Nicole reassured him. ‘There’s no man in the house and there’re no such things as ghosts.’
But Michael wasn’t listening. In fact he could barely keep his eyes open.
‘We should put him back in bed,’ Nicole said, standing up. ‘He’s still half asleep.’
I carried him upstairs and by the time we tucked him under his duvet he was out cold.
‘What time is it?’ Nicole asked.
I was still wearing my watch so I held it up for her to see. It was 3 a.m.
‘I’m going to have a cup of tea,’ she said. ‘You want to join me?’
I opted for something stronger than tea – a large, neat whisky, compliments of our landlord. I felt I needed it. My thoughts were still burning like a fuse and I couldn’t shift the unease in the pit of my stomach. Nicole sat at the kitchen table. She was pale and glassy-eyed, but she did not seem as troubled as I was.
‘Try to relax, Jack,’ she said. ‘Michael is OK and so are we. I’m a hundred per cent convinced that he was talking in his sleep having wandered downstairs. And because he was rambling on about nothing it sounded to us like there was more than one voice.’
‘You reckon that’s all it was?’ I said, incredulous.
She nodded. ‘Think about it for a minute, Jack. We know now that nobody has broken in. The house is all locked up. We also know we’re all suffering from jet lag and that’s bound to affect our sleep patterns. Plus, you and I had a fair amount to drink before we went to bed. We polished off a bottle of champagne between us.’
‘I suppose you could be right,’ I said.
‘Of course I am. I can’t in all honesty see that there can be any other explanation – unless we’re prepared to accept that the house is haunted and we’ve experienced some paranormal event.’
‘Do you think that’s possible?’
A tight smile twisted on her lips. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. It’ll take more than one weird night to change my views on that particular subject.’
I fired down the whisky and felt it bite into the back of my throat. Nicole was probably right, I decided. In any case, there was no point staying up for the rest of the night fretting over it. In the morning the whole episode would no doubt seem far less alarming.
So we finished our drinks and I did one more tour of the house before we went upstairs. We got into bed. I kissed Nicole and turned off the light. Then I listened hard for any signs of life downstairs. But there were no voices or faint vibrations. And no sense of any other presence in the house.
Nicole was asleep within minutes, but it took much longer for me to drop off. My mind was awash with all the strange things that had happened to us since that morning. The snake. The doors. The lights. The voices. Michael’s curious dream.
And once again I found myself asking that same, disturbing question :
Could these events somehow be connected?
13
T emple woke up just before his alarm went off. It was 6 a.m. He’d had a restless night, taunted by vivid images of the dead girl out on Cranes Moor. He would have to see her again today in the mortuary and the prospect filled him with dread. It was an aspect of the job he detested and he always found it hard to suppress his emotions.
He would have been quite happy to stay in bed and spend the day snuggling up to Angel. She had that effect on him when she stayed over. Made him realize that the job did not have to be all-consuming; it
was
possible to become detached from it, however briefly, without feeling guilty.
It was to his eternal shame that he hadn’t discovered this sooner so that he could have spent more quality time with his late wife. But during their
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