Dead Scared

SINCE THE ACCIDENT that had crippled her, Evi had dreamed many times that she could run. Occasionally, that she could fly. Only once had she dreamed that she could ski, and she’d woken trembling and sweating in the early hours. She had never dreamed that she could dance.

Until now.

Rock music. Springsteen’s ‘Dancing in the Dark’. A pounding, insistent rhythm, turned up loud to be heard above the wind. Her hair flying round her head, her neck cold in the November air, the heat of a man’s body pressed against her. Harry. The priest who’d played in a rock band, who’d held her upright and moved them both around the bare rock of the Lancashire Tor. The night they’d fallen in love.

Harry back again. Harry in her arms. She could feel his breath against her forehead, knew the wonderful anticipation of a first kiss. They danced closer and closer to the edge of the Tor. He tucked her right hand against his chest, freeing his to gently tilt her chin up towards him. She saw brown eyes smiling down at her. This was it.

‘Evi fall,’ he said. And threw her off the Tor.

Evi was out of bed and the pain running the length of her body was all she could think of. She made herself take deep breaths. Just a dream. She hadn’t fallen. Maybe out of bed, maybe that accounted for the sudden stabbing pain, but she was fine. She found the light. Sniffy looked up at her, blinking, from her place on the rug. Then she gave a lazy wag of her tail. Nothing to worry about. She’d take some more painkillers, maybe get a hot drink and go back to bed. Everything was fine.

Except Springsteen was still singing.

Somewhere in the house, music was playing. And not just any music. It was the tune that meant more to her than any other. The track she could never listen to, the one that had her switching off the car radio on the occasions it was played, because she simply couldn’t hear it without crying.

Biting her lip, Evi made her way round the bed and towards the door. Then she turned back and called to the dog. Sniffy got up reluctantly, not remotely concerned about either the phantom music or the intruder who must have broken in to put the CD in the music system.

Evi’s CD player was in the sitting room. The hallway was in darkness. She released her hold on Sniffy’s collar and the dog stayed by her side. The door to the sitting room was closed. Evi turned the handle and reached in to find the light switch.

The music stopped. The room was empty.

‘Go see,’ she whispered. Sniffy looked at her. The only possible hiding place in the room was behind the curtains covering the large front windows. The dog would know, surely, if there was anyone there. There were no lights on the music system. It made a faint twanging noise when it was switched off: she would have heard it.

Now that she thought about it, she didn’t even have the Springsteen CD.

Clutching tight to Sniffy’s collar, Evi limped across the room and pulled back the curtains. No one there. Sniffy cocked her head, as if to say, Now can we go back to bed?

‘I was dreaming, wasn’t I?’ said Evi. ‘There was no music, was there?’

Sniffy’s tail waved left and then right. One ear drooped, the other stayed pert.

Evi set off back again. She was halfway across the bedroom when she stopped. She knew, beyond any doubt, that someone was watching her. She turned on the spot. Curtains drawn, doors closed, she was completely alone. She’d reached the bed when she heard the voice directly behind.

‘Evi fall,’ it said.