Fourteen Days(67)

Taking a few seconds to fully come to, he opened his mouth to tell her of the night he had just experienced, but then held back, wondering whether or not it was such a good idea. The last thing he wanted to do was to scare her or cause another argument, especially after seeing Christina in such a way. So instead he simply said, “I love you, Nic. You know that, don’t you? I love you more than anything.”

Smiling, she sat beside him, putting the remote control down on the arm of the couch. “Of course I know. And I love you too. What’s brought—” She broke off her sentence when she looked down at his trembling hands. “You’re shaking—what’s wrong?” Then she looked at his face. “And you’re as white as a sheet.”

He glanced down at his quivering hands. “It’s nothing. Just had a bad dream,” he said, unconvincingly. “Did you sleep okay?”

Frowning at his blatant attempt to move the focus to her, she grasped his hands. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” He forced a painful smile. “Never better.”

“Are you ill or something? You seem really strange.”

“Everything’s fine. Just had a lousy night, that’s all.”

Unconvinced, she placed her palm over his forehead. “Well, you haven’t got a temperature, but…”

He moved his head away from her hand. “See, I told you I was fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, I am worried about you,” she said, firmly. “You’re acting really odd.”

Holding her hands again, he forced another smile. “Look, I just had a nightmare, that’s all. Nothing to worry about. Honestly.”

Suspiciously scowling, she sat back. “A nightmare about what?”

“I dreamed that you left me,” he told her perkily, as if getting over his disorientation. “You were shacked up with some other guy. It was horrible.”

Clearly amused and relieved at the same time, she pulled him closer and kissed his cheek. “Oh, that is horrible. And what did you do in the dream? Did you kick his ass?”

He shrugged. “Can’t remember now. But it was so real.”

Gently releasing from his hold, she changed positions on the couch, resting her legs on his lap. “Well, maybe I am leaving you,” she said, jokingly. “And maybe you’re psychic.”

He grinned, happy in the knowledge that she had bought his story. “I hope not.”

“Why did you come down here in the first place? Couldn’t sleep?”

Stroking her legs over her pink pajama bottoms, he nodded. “Yeah. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“There’s no need to come down here. I don’t mind. You know I can sleep through anything.”

“It’s not just that. Down here I can fall asleep to the TV. I was just tossing and turning for hours up there.”

“Worried about going back to work?”

He shrugged again. “No—well, maybe a little. Just hope that my body clock goes back to the way it was. I hate this. I hate not sleeping properly.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said, reaching for the remote control behind her, and switching the TV back on. “Not long now. You’ll be back in on Tuesday. Just take it easy for the next two days. Enjoy them while you can.”

Relieved that her attention was now on some cooking show, he thought of Christina again. Did everything I see really happen? he wondered. Or am I losing it?

But he knew that there was a way to prove it once and for all. He had to find out if Peter Young’s girlfriend was actually called Sophie, and whether or not their baby did die at birth. And if there really was a farmhouse owned by the Young family in St. Clears.

Where the hell is St. Clears? he asked himself. I’ve never even heard of it. He turned to Nicky. “Do you know where St. Clears is?”

She nodded, not looking at him, too engrossed in her show. “It’s in Wales. Near Carmarthen. Why?”

“Oh, no reason—just saw a show yesterday about it.” She didn’t delve any deeper.

He wondered where he could find a list of farms in the Carmarthen area. The Yellow Pages, he thought, excitedly. His excitement quickly deflated when he realized that his copy would never include Wales.

The library. They’re bound to have stacks of regional Yellow Pages. But it was Sunday, and the library would surely be closed.

The Internet!