I was upstairs in the bathroom, brushing my teeth when Maddie cried out. I went in to her.
“There was a thing, Mummy, in my dream.” She was sitting bolt upright, her face crinkled with anxiety. I sat beside her and put my arm around her.
“What sort of a thing?”
“Horrible.” Her voice wobbled.
“Do you want to tell me your dream?”
She shook her head emphatically.
“OK, lie down then.”
She began to protest.
“It won’t come back,” I said, “it’s only a dream, a picture in your sleep.” She wasn’t having it, her mouth pulled ready for tears.
“Maybe you could put your tape on,” I suggested.
She paused, considering. “Will you stay?”
I sighed.
“Just a bit Mummy and then leave the tape on?”
“Alright. I’ll just get changed.”
She leapt out of bed. No way was she going to stay alone in the room after that thing had been in her dream. She shadowed me to my room and back.
I settled her in, stuck the story tape in the machine and sat back in the rocking chair. Tom in the other bed slept undisturbed. Maddie mouthed the words to the story. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again she was asleep and the tape had finished. I padded across the landing and fell into bed. And then it was time to get up again.
When I don’t get enough sleep my concentration goes to pot. I knew I was going to spend the whole of Tuesday in a fuzzy state. I had a big breakfast to compensate; half a grapefruit, mushrooms and scrambled egg, toast and honey. I dragged Maddie and Tom away from the telly and got them to school, went to my office straight from there. I made a coffee and drank it with my eyes closed and feet up before I attempted any work. I made a list of things I had to do in the course of the day. Then I considered my appointments. I’d a meeting with Frances Delaney at ten thirty and I was seeing Roger Pickering later to give him the lowdown on what I’d discovered. That would take all of five minutes, I thought in my disgruntled mood. I pulled out the report I’d started and glanced over it. Alright, I reasoned with myself, maybe you haven’t found Jennifer yet but you’ve established some facts that Roger wasn’t sure of. I counted them off on my fingers. One – she was pregnant, two – Maxwell was the father, three – she left for university a week before the starting date, four – her friends were surprised at her sudden departure…
I was interrupted by the sound of footsteps up the path. I stood and craned my neck – caught sight of a Royal Mail uniform through the narrow basement window. I heard the clang of the letterbox and went up to check the mail. Most of it was for the Dobson’s, I left it on the hall table, but there was also something for me. Brown, window envelope postmarked Keele. Yes! I hurried back downstairs, opening it as I went.
