and Lydia looks at me accusingly. I don’t want to think about Lydia.
I drift off. A noise wakens me again, an unexpected and insistent noise in the darkness. I’m confused for a moment, registering the noise but not understanding it. And then I do.
A door is creaking open.
23.
Steeling myself to sit up, I turn on the light and get out of bed. On the way to the bathroom, I switch on every light I come across, the standing lamp in the bedroom, the main light in the hall and then the bathroom light.
My familiar house appears reassuringly from the darkness and I sigh with relief. I sip cold water from the tap, then return to the bedroom. And then there’s someone standing in front of me.
Lydia.
I scream, my hand in front of my mouth, until I see my own likeness screaming back.
What I’d thought was Lydia is nothing more than my own shadowy reflection in the dark window.
I go downstairs, my legs shaking. The sitting room door is half open, and I can’t remember whether I closed it. All the doors upstairs were open too, so which door did I hear opening? Did I hear it, or did I dream it?
I hesitate at the bottom of the stairs, listening to the night. After a while I go back upstairs. In my bedroom, I have a curious feeling, as if somebody is waiting for me.
‘Lydia…’ I whisper. ‘Is that you?’
My bedroom is quiet and familiar. There are no noises, nothing stirs.
Less sleepy than ever, I get back in bed, leaving all the lights on, and crawl under the duvet. There are many different kinds of loneliness, but being on your own at night, awake and worried, is the worst.
When I wake again it’s still dark outside. It takes me a while to remember why my bedroom light and the hall light are on. It all seems a little unbelievable now.
I look at the time – 5:33 – and throw off the duvet. My god, what thick pyjamas I’m wearing. They’re completely damp with sweat.
In the shower, warm water streams over me, comforting me. I raise my face, eyes closed, to catch the drops and rinse the night away.
Gradually the bathroom fills with steam; it clings to the mirror and the shower cubicle. I should have left the bathroom door open.
I squeeze some shower gel onto a sponge and run it over my body. I hold onto the taps with one hand and wash my feet. When I straighten, I see something through the clouds of steam in the bathroom. A dark shape, next to the sink. I’m so shocked I almost slip. I grab hard onto the doors and peer into the bathroom. The dark shape has vanished. But it was there.
I get dressed. On the stairs, I think I hear something behind me as I descend, but there’s nothing there. As I bend down in the kitchen to get out the toaster, I feel something brushing past my back.
At that moment I’m certain I’m not alone in the house.
24.
Sylvie is dumbstruck.
‘What?’ she says, as if she hasn’t heard correctly.
‘Lydia is here,’ I repeat. ‘I keep feeling her behind me, like a shadow, but when I look around she’s gone. I know it sounds weird.’
We’re in the kitchen clearing up after dinner. Sylvie looks at me in alarm then her eyes glide around the kitchen. ‘Why do you think that?’
‘I’ve just told you. Because I can feel it.’
‘Oh…’ Sylvie wipes the bench with a cloth. ‘And can you feel it now?’
‘No. I mean, not here in the kitchen, but I know she’s nearby. I keep hearing noises.’
There’s a silence during which Sylvie avoids my gaze. ‘Noises? What kind of noises?’
I can’t blame her for not believing me. I can hardly believe it myself, but the need to share it with someone is greater than myfear of seeming ridiculous. ‘As if someone was walking around the place,’ I say quietly. ‘Last night I heard a door open, but when I went to look there was no one there at all.’
‘And the door was open?’
‘Yes, but I’m not sure whether I closed it or not.’
Sylvie takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. ‘You should call the police. If you
I drift off. A noise wakens me again, an unexpected and insistent noise in the darkness. I’m confused for a moment, registering the noise but not understanding it. And then I do.
A door is creaking open.
23.
Steeling myself to sit up, I turn on the light and get out of bed. On the way to the bathroom, I switch on every light I come across, the standing lamp in the bedroom, the main light in the hall and then the bathroom light.
My familiar house appears reassuringly from the darkness and I sigh with relief. I sip cold water from the tap, then return to the bedroom. And then there’s someone standing in front of me.
Lydia.
I scream, my hand in front of my mouth, until I see my own likeness screaming back.
What I’d thought was Lydia is nothing more than my own shadowy reflection in the dark window.
I go downstairs, my legs shaking. The sitting room door is half open, and I can’t remember whether I closed it. All the doors upstairs were open too, so which door did I hear opening? Did I hear it, or did I dream it?
I hesitate at the bottom of the stairs, listening to the night. After a while I go back upstairs. In my bedroom, I have a curious feeling, as if somebody is waiting for me.
‘Lydia…’ I whisper. ‘Is that you?’
My bedroom is quiet and familiar. There are no noises, nothing stirs.
Less sleepy than ever, I get back in bed, leaving all the lights on, and crawl under the duvet. There are many different kinds of loneliness, but being on your own at night, awake and worried, is the worst.
When I wake again it’s still dark outside. It takes me a while to remember why my bedroom light and the hall light are on. It all seems a little unbelievable now.
I look at the time – 5:33 – and throw off the duvet. My god, what thick pyjamas I’m wearing. They’re completely damp with sweat.
In the shower, warm water streams over me, comforting me. I raise my face, eyes closed, to catch the drops and rinse the night away.
Gradually the bathroom fills with steam; it clings to the mirror and the shower cubicle. I should have left the bathroom door open.
I squeeze some shower gel onto a sponge and run it over my body. I hold onto the taps with one hand and wash my feet. When I straighten, I see something through the clouds of steam in the bathroom. A dark shape, next to the sink. I’m so shocked I almost slip. I grab hard onto the doors and peer into the bathroom. The dark shape has vanished. But it was there.
I get dressed. On the stairs, I think I hear something behind me as I descend, but there’s nothing there. As I bend down in the kitchen to get out the toaster, I feel something brushing past my back.
At that moment I’m certain I’m not alone in the house.
24.
Sylvie is dumbstruck.
‘What?’ she says, as if she hasn’t heard correctly.
‘Lydia is here,’ I repeat. ‘I keep feeling her behind me, like a shadow, but when I look around she’s gone. I know it sounds weird.’
We’re in the kitchen clearing up after dinner. Sylvie looks at me in alarm then her eyes glide around the kitchen. ‘Why do you think that?’
‘I’ve just told you. Because I can feel it.’
‘Oh…’ Sylvie wipes the bench with a cloth. ‘And can you feel it now?’
‘No. I mean, not here in the kitchen, but I know she’s nearby. I keep hearing noises.’
There’s a silence during which Sylvie avoids my gaze. ‘Noises? What kind of noises?’
I can’t blame her for not believing me. I can hardly believe it myself, but the need to share it with someone is greater than myfear of seeming ridiculous. ‘As if someone was walking around the place,’ I say quietly. ‘Last night I heard a door open, but when I went to look there was no one there at all.’
‘And the door was open?’
‘Yes, but I’m not sure whether I closed it or not.’
Sylvie takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. ‘You should call the police. If you
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