Fourteen Days(17)

“I’ve got to fill the water tank for the caravan.”

Nicky smiled. “That’s good. Always so organized.”

“I try my best. But I hate filling up the water. It’s always so heavy.”

“Tell me, Richard—”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Have you seen my baby?”

Puzzled, he asked, “What baby?”

“My baby.”

Shaking his head, he moved closer to her. “But you don’t have a baby.”

“Please, Richard—have you seen my baby?”

Shaking his head again, he looked down at the rock where she was sitting and noticed a dark patch. “What’s that you’re sitting on, Nic?”

She looked down at the dark patch, frowning, and then replied, “I don’t know. It wasn’t there a minute ago.” She stood to inspect it further. As she did the sky darkened and the air began to mist. “It looks like blood. But it’s not mine. It can’t be mine.”

Blood dripped down her legs and stained through the bottom of her dress. “You’re bleeding,” he said. “I’ll go get help. Mum will know what to do.” He turned away, but something blocked his path.

A woman.

The lower half of her white dress was stained with thick blood. In fright, he fell backwards onto the muddy grass, screaming for help. The woman walked toward him, blood still seeping from her dress, down over her legs. She held out a hand. Cowering in terror, he continued to call out to his mother, until his cries managed to cross over into his living room, where he found himself lying on the couch, covered in sweat, and trembling.

“Fuck,” he said in an exhausted breath.

Still disoriented, he rubbed his tired face, trying to wake up and shake off the effects of the dream. He couldn’t remember falling asleep.

He picked up the empty bottles and carried them into the kitchen. Dropping them into the bin, he stared at the dreaded kitchen chair, still terrified. “What’s wrong with you, Rich? There’s nothing there. It was just a stupid dream. Get a grip—for God’s sake.”

With his eyes fixed on the chair, he felt his heart race as the fear took over. The dreaded chair was now filled with visions of the woman, her eyes of sadness and desperation, her look of helplessness. He could no longer move his legs.

There’s nothing there. You’re being ridiculous. She isn’t real. Come on now—focus.

As the seconds rolled by, turning into minutes, his mind was still gripped with trepidation. He waited for the feeling to pass. Slow, deep breaths began ease his racing heart—but not by much. His body was sticky with sweat and his hands still trembled.

The sound of the front door opening sent him even further down into a pit of terror. Turning his head to see, he clenched his fists when he heard footsteps. He focused on the banister in the hallway, too afraid to look back at the table. The muscles in his legs tightened as he attempted to move. Just as they began to loosen so he could walk, the sound of Nicky’s voice made him feel like a weight had been lifted from his entire body.

Exhaling in relief, he watched her walk toward him, smiling, yet clearly exhausted.

“Hi, babe,” she asked, greeting him with a kiss. “What are you doing in here?”

Beaming, he shook his head. “Nothing—just waiting for you to get home.”

Scrunching her face up in repulsion, she pulled away from him. “Have you been drinking?”

“Yeah. I had a couple of bottles. So?”

“You had more than a couple, your breath stinks of lager. How many have you had?”

“Nice to see you too,” he said.

She dropped her handbag onto the table, then sat heavily in one of the chairs, putting her feet up on the dreaded chair. “I’m worn out. I’ve had such a lousy day.”

“How come? Is your sister all right?” he asked, eyes locked on the dreaded chair.

“Well, she’s gone back to him now. I’m not surprised though.”

“Already? How long for this time?”

“Exactly. And my mum’s been doing my head in—fussing over her too much. I’m just glad to be home. So what’ve you been up to today—apart from getting drunk?”

He managed to shift his attention away from the chair. “I’m not drunk. I had one or two.”

“I’m teasing. I don’t care what you do, as long as you take it easy.” She got up from the chair as if she weighed a ton, and moved over to the fridge. “See any ghosts today?” she asked, using a quivery voice.