5

It had been a day full of surprises. And the latest was that they’d been back at Newton Hall only minutes before they were having sex. Ranald wasn’t exactly sure how it had even started. All he knew was that Liz was the one in charge, seeming to find the main bedroom in the blink of an eye, and hauling him over to the massive four-poster they found there.

Afterwards, she rolled onto her back, propped her head up on the pillow and looked over at him. She seemed pleased with herself.

‘I’ve always wanted to do that,’ she said.

‘What?’ Ranald asked, trying to get his breathing under control.

‘You know, do it with a stranger; and a younger man at that…’

Ranald turned away from her, locating his boxer shorts on the edge of the vast bed and slipping them on.

‘What’s that about?’ she asked. ‘I don’t mind you being naked.’

He made a face. ‘I’ve never been that comfortable with nudity.’ A flash of memory and his father’s angry red face was in his head. Where had that come from? he wondered. He forced his thoughts back into the moment and as if it might help, he reached over and down with his right hand to trace a lazy circle round Liz’s belly button. He spotted a small tattoo on the inside of her upper thigh. It was a small, pink heart. He leaned over and touched it.

‘I’ve got another one,’ Liz said and held up her leg. ‘On my ankle.’ It was a blue butterfly. Small, about the size of penny.

‘Another thing you always wanted to do – get tattoos?’ he asked.

‘Kinda,’ she chuckled.

Ran lay down next to her, placed his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. All this talking, all this moving, all of this was momentarily too much. He craved the balm of sleep with an intensity that was, most likely, unhealthy.

‘You’re not going to do that thing where you fall asleep, are you?’ she asked.

‘Nah,’ said Ranald. ‘Just resting my eyes.’

‘Sure you are,’ she said, reaching up and patting him on the head. ‘I might just join you,’ she added.

Ranald woke to a panicked yelp. He felt the rush of movement as someone leaped away from him. Opening his eyes in fright he saw Liz pressed up against the headboard, the quilt held up to her breasts and her eyes as large as plates.

‘Did you hear that?’ she whispered.

‘Hear what?’

‘Oh my God. I’ve got to get out of here.’ She jumped off the bed and rushed to put her clothes on.

Ranald climbed over to her side and stood up. Mystified, he asked, ‘What happened?’ As he spoke he noticed the room was decidedly colder. His skin prickled.

‘Walk me out, please. Walk me out.’ She didn’t bother with her underwear, simply slipped her dress over her head and held her underwear and shoes to her bosom and marched swiftly out of the room.

Ranald jumped into his shorts and followed her down to the front door.

She only slowed down once she was outside. Grimacing from the pain of the pebbles on her bare feet, she hopped into her shoes.

‘Liz, what’s going on? What did I do?’ Ranald asked, checking to see that Danny wasn’t somewhere near.

It was still bright and warm. And now she was outside, Liz appeared to have relaxed a little. She gave a little laugh. ‘Oh my God, that was weird.’ She placed a hand on Ranald’s arm. ‘I’m so sorry. It must have been a dream.’ She exhaled. ‘But Christ, it was so real, you know?’

‘What did you see? Or what did you dream?’

Liz pressed a hand against her lips as if holding back the answer. ‘Och, you’ll think I’m just a daft woman.’

‘What was it, Liz?’ Ranald reached out and took her arm.

‘There was this face. A woman’s face. Oh my God, it was horrible. One half of it was kind of in shadow, you know? She shouted at me; I could even feel the heat of her breath on my face as she did it.’

Ranald released his hold on her and crossed his arms. He felt cold despite the hot day.

‘What did she say?’

Liz laughed. ‘I’m being silly. It was just a weird dream,’ she replied. She brushed her hair away from her face with her fingertips. Then she leaned forwards and kissed him on the lips. ‘Thanks for a lovely afternoon.’ She made a face. ‘Not sure I want to repeat it after that horrible dream, mind.’ She turned and started walking towards the road where she’d left her car.

Ranald followed her. ‘Liz, what did this woman say?’ He had no idea why it might be important, but for some reason – the look of genuine fright he’d seen in Liz’s eyes; the chill of the bedroom – he had to know.

Liz stopped walking and turned to stare at him. ‘You’re taking this seriously, aren’t you?’

‘I’m a writer,’ he shrugged. ‘I pay attention to what people dream.’

‘It was a dream. I’m sure of it now.’

‘And?’

‘The voice I heard – in my dream, or whatever – it shouted at me. Really loudly. I can still hear it.’ She paused. ‘She said: “Get out, he’s mine.”’