She saw nothing at all, but she felt a presence. And there was an icy draught

That night, Ann lay in bed, the phial on her bedside table. She unstopped the stopper and sniffed – the smell was horrid. She would take only one drop tonight; she wanted to sleep well, but not too deeply. If it worked, she could try more the following night. She thought of the children; would they have nightmares or indeed be sad at all? She had sat them down at suppertime and told them that Papa would not be coming home and that they must not be sad for he was in Heaven now.

That had been difficult to say, since she now knew he was on his way to Australia with some serving maid. She loathed him so much, she hoped he would burn in Hell some day.

But now her priority was the children; she would do anything to protect them.

She took the tincture – just one little shake in the water glass – then blew out the candle by her bed and soon fell into a deep sleep.

Some time during the night, she shivered and pulled the blanket round her. Then she became aware of something; she felt there was someone in the room, she was sure of it.

She clasped her hands tight together under the sheets. How had she woken, had the sleeping potion not worked? It was still the middle of the night, it was pitch black.

Ann looked around as her eyes adjusted to the dark. She saw nothing at all, but she felt a presence. And there was an icy draught.

She looked towards the door and could just make out the gleam of the brass handle; the door was ajar. She looked down the bedclothes, without moving her head, and made out something at the end of the bed.

Terrified, she did not move but watched as something – was it a figure? – moved in the dark towards the door.

In the morning, she awoke and looked around in the dim light. She turned towards the door which was firmly shut and shuddered as she recalled her dream.

It had been horrid, she had truly believed someone had been in her bedroom. Perhaps she would not take the sleeping potion any more. She had enough to worry about without also having nightmares.

2015

Fiona rushed to pick up the phone, knowing who it would be.

“Hi, Mum.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“I’m psychic!”

The conversation followed the same pattern every time Dorothy phoned Fiona out of the blue. “How’s the holiday going?”

“Not bad, we’re still on Harris but heading for Skye tomorrow. That’s unless you need me home. Sure everything’s okay? Jamie fine?”

Fiona could hear a noise of muttering in the background. “Ignore your father, he thinks I’m mad. I’ve got this feeling, sweetheart, I just feel something’s going to happen.”

“What are you talking about, Mum?”

Her dad took the phone. “For God’s sake woman, stop blethering. Fi, it’s me. Your mother is becoming more insane by the minute.

“She somehow has got into her dippy head that something bad’s about to happen.

“I think it’s all the cheese she had at lunch with, I might add, most of a bottle of claret.”

Fiona heard a yelp of indignation.

Strident

Her father continued. “But just to put you in the picture, Fi, we are okay. Beautiful weather, unseasonably mild. And we’ve only had one heavy shower.”

“Great. Everything’s fine here, house still in one piece.”

“Is the Little Prince out doing the rounds with my broomstick?”

“Yeah, he went out with Jack and his two cousins.” Fiona glanced at the clock.

“Nearly an hour ago. I’m expecting him to ring our bell soon.”

“Give me the phone, Stru!” Dorothy was strident. “Fi, take care, will you. I can feel it in my waters, there’s something . . .”

“Hell’s teeth, woman. Will you stop worrying the girl. She’s not a child.”

“Mum, Dad, I’m fine.” She grinned. “There’s a howling gale outside but we’re nice and snug here and – oh, and I’ve had the heating on all day and all night in case of frost.”

“What? That’s bloody ridiculous!”

“Ha, got you, Dad. Don’t worry I’ve not had to move the timer from your three stingy hours morning and night. Yet.”

“You should see our heating bills, Fi. Anyway, got to go, but we’ll speak tomorrow. Stop trying to grab the phone, Dot. Here she is, Fi.”

“Can you phone the surgery tomorrow please, darling? Your dad’s actually not been great – tired, bit breathless. I want him to see Dr Stobie on Wednesday afternoon when we’re back. The last appointment if you can.”

Fiona could hear muttering in the background. “You don’t need to top up your dram, Stru! Sorry, Fi. Is that all right, sweetheart?

“That busybody receptionist’s there for a couple of hours on a Saturday morning.”

“Okay, will do.

The doorbell rang. “That’ll be the guisers at the door now,” said Fiona. “Got to go.”

Costume

“So, Jamie, time for your joke please.” Four boys stood at the door, under the front light. It was pitch dark outside and the wind had got up.

The boys were all holding on to their hats and Jamie’s bin-bag costume flapped around him.

Jack’s cousins were dressed as ghouls, with impressive face painting, and Jack was another wizard.

Fiona had to admit, he was wearing a wonderful outfit. Why could she not sew like the other mums? The other three boys had done a poem and a couple of songs.

“Okay, here goes.” Jamie stepped forward and grinned broadly. “Why was six afraid of seven?” “I don’t know, Jamie. Why was six afraid of seven?” “Because seven eight nine!”

Fi shook her head as Jamie chuckled. “And the other one?”

“What did one toilet say to the other?”

“I don’t know, what did one toilet say to the other?” Jamie’s shoulders began to shake with mirth. “You look a bit flushed!”

All four boys stood grinning, waiting.

“Okay, you’ve all done your party pieces. Let me go and get something for your swag bags.”

Fiona went into the house and returned with four tangerines, a bag of nuts, four chocolate bars and four pound coins.

“Wow, thanks Mum, it’s more than we got at the other houses.”

“Yes, that lady at the end of the street only gave us one Rolo each, not even a packet!”

Fiona looked at her watch. “Right boys, you’ve only got another hour. Remember, Jack and Jamie have to be back by 7.30.”

They set off down the drive, Jamie running ahead, brandishing his broom above his head.

More tomorrow.