Dead Silent by Mark Roberts

surprise ourselves as much as we surprise those closest to us.’
    ‘Bring her in later this morning.’ Danielle smiled. ‘We’ll be happy to give her shelter.’

26
7.15 am
    Riley stared out at the sky across the Mersey and made a decision about the Louis Vuitton bag and the Jimmy Choo shoes that she was watching on eBay. Either or? No. She was going to put high bids on both and snuff out the competition.
    Louise woke from her fitful sleep and cleared her throat. ‘Gina?’
    Riley turned, walked over to the bed. ‘How are you feeling?’
    ‘How long was I asleep?’
    ‘Half an hour...’
    Louise touched the white plaster on her forehead. ‘It must have been the bump to my head...’ Riley leaned closer to her, watching her with an intensity that made the silence palpable.
    ‘Do you want to tell me something, Louise?’
    ‘I had the most bizarre dream. About my father’s picture. About The Tower of Babel . I only share my dreams with those who are in them.’
    ‘Was I in your dream?’
    The buzz of an incoming text – ‘Eve Clay’ – split Riley down the middle. ‘The Tower of Babel?’ She kept the theme alive as she opened the text.
    Adam and Danielle Miller, owners of The Sanctuary, have offered to have Louise stay with them for as long as she likes. Encourage her to say yes and to go there asap. It literally is her sanctuary.
    ‘Tell me about your dream,’ said Riley, holding Louise’s gaze.
    ‘The whole of the bedroom wall facing his bed was completely covered, from ceiling to floor, with The Tower of Babel . You were walking beside me. We were walking towards the Tower of Babel. I asked you what had happened. You said Bruegel had risen from the dead and painted a mural on the wallpaper to replace the picture that had been stolen from my father.’
    A dreaminess settled on Louise’s face as she seemed to turn over some details in her mind. Riley glanced down at the screen of her phone, closed the text and discreetly pressed record.
    ‘What happened next, Louise, in your dream?’
    ‘The whole room altered. It stopped being my father’s bedroom with a painted Tower of Babel on the wall and became a three-dimensional version of the scene itself. We walked. The earth was scorched. We headed towards the entrance. And the noise. The closer we came, the louder it became. It was horrific. Thousands of voices clamouring inside the tower and pouring out like red-hot windstorms. You put your hands over my ears. Your face was pinched and your eyes were slits, your hair was streaming behind you and you moved your lips and it looked like you’d mouthed the words Jesus wept , and I screamed back at you, That’s a fact! ’
    When Louise paused, Riley passed her a glass of water. As the old lady sipped delicately, Riley made a mental note never to underestimate the power of another human being’s inner life.
    ‘Go on,’ she said, hooked.
    ‘And as soon as I said That’s a fact! , all the noise stopped. Silence slammed down from the sky. We were near the entrance and you said, Can you hear that? I said, No. You looked up. One voice, high up in the tower, whispered. You pointed. There were two boys—’
    ‘Two boys?’ Riley interrupted, thinking, Two killers .
    ‘Yes, two boys... leaning out of the tower. Oh yes, I could hear it now, a noise like a house fly buzzing far away. One of the boys was whispering, but we couldn’t hear a word. The whispering boy stopped making the noise and then he... stuck out his hand...’ Louise extended her arm, turning it over so that her palm was uppermost and her fingers were parted. ‘Like this.’ She lifted her hand up slowly. ‘We rose from the earth. Like the boy had the power to make us levitate, the power in his hand.’
    Louise paused and stared straight at Riley, as if daring Riley to make light of what she was telling her. Was this significant? Riley wondered. More importantly, perhaps, did Louise think it significant? Or were these just the ramblings of