‘You came back!’ I turn to the man. ‘Do you have any water? She’s been hurt.’ He looks at me, stunned. I roll my eyes. ‘Never mind.’ I walk towards the waiting unicorn. ‘How’s your leg? Does it still hurt?’
The unicorn whinnies in response. I crouch down to check the wound. It’s stopped bleeding and doesn’t seem as deep as I thought. I reach up and pat her muzzle. ‘Good girl.’
‘Who are you?’ the man says.
I ignore him, keeping my attention on the animal. Her coat is remarkably soft.
‘Who,’ he repeats through gritted teeth, ‘are you?’
I turn my head round and give him a brilliant smile. ‘I’m Zoe, of course.’ I cock my head. ‘Do you hear that?’
He takes a step forward and the unicorn growls. I wouldn’t have thought a horse-like creature would be capable of that kind of sound.
The noise gets louder. ‘It’s like ringing.’ I frown.
The man opens his mouth to speak but then I’m back in my bed, blinking up at the ceiling while the phone shrieks next to me.
My eyes are bleary but my skin is tingling all over. I shake myself, trying to regain consciousness, and grab hold of the receiver. ‘Hello,’ I mumble.
‘It’s Rawlins,’ the policewoman says. ‘How did you know?’
I rub my eyes, completely confused. ‘How did I know what?’
‘About the letters.’
For a moment, I don’t have the faintest idea what she’s referring to. Then I sit bolt upright. ‘The postman. You checked him out. I thought you were too busy.’
‘I had a spare half an hour.’ Her voice is gruff. ‘Tell me how you knew.’
‘He was hoarding mail?’
‘He was. We found boxes of it in a room in his home. He must have been at it for years.’
I think quickly. ‘Some of my letters went missing. Ones that I should have received. And there were a few things he said. He looked scared when you came round the other day.’
‘When?’
‘For the statement. You passed him on the path.’
‘I didn’t really notice him,’ she says, half to herself.
‘Well,’ I prevaricate, ‘I just put two and two together. I’m glad I didn’t waste your time.’
‘We’ll probably need you to make another statement.’
‘No problem.’ The Chairman jumps up onto the bed and I scratch his ears. That jogs my memory and I reach up to where I tucked the blade of grass behind my ear. There’s nothing there. Of course not. I might be able to tap into other’s unconscious selves but what I experience are still just dreams They’re not real.
‘You’re having a busy week, Ms Lydon,’ Rawlins comments.
I raise my eyebrows to myself in mild amusement. She really has no idea just how busy it’s been.
Chapter Five
Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
––––––––
It may be the weekend but, given the events of the last few days and my self-absorption, I feel compelled to catch up on work after Rawlins and Hartman leave. My neighbours must think I’m a criminal considering how many times they’ve been round in the past couple of days.
Hartman spent most of the visit eyeing me suspiciously and I knew he was desperate to ask me how I knew his pet name. I kept my attention on Rawlins, however, and my answers were short and to the point – even if not entirely truthful. I wasn’t concerned about having the two police officers inside my home nor was I bothered about being evasive when I answered their questions.
For the first time I can remember, my mind keeps drifting away from the bytes and numbers on the screen to what’s going on inside my head whenever I fall asleep. If my lack of fear is a cause for celebration, my lack of focus is disturbing. Of course, that may be because my feet and legs are stinging from cuts and scratches. Every so often I stop and marvel at them. How is it even possible?
I’m so distracted that I completely forget my mother is due to visit. When the doorbell rings, I half leap out of my chair. My heart thuds. But a few seconds later I feel calmer. I purse my lips and walk to the door, unbolting it.
‘Afternoon, Zoe!’ She bustles in, reaching over to hug me.
I draw away before she can succeed. I’d made a point earlier of shaking Rawlins’ hand when she left. Having decided that last night had nothing to do with the Chairman after all – and with no desire to return to the wood – there was little choice but to touch someone and gain entrance to their head instead. However, I most definitely do not want to see what’s rattling inside my mother’s brain; that would be an extraordinary invasion of privacy.
I apologise when she looks hurt. ‘I think I’m coming down with a cold. There’s no point in you catching it too.’
She frowns at me. ‘How on earth can you catch the cold? You never go anywhere to come in contact with germs.’
I shrug. ‘Maybe the Chairman brought the virus in. Or the police.’
She is staring at me. I suddenly realise she has no idea what happened with the old man and quickly I tell her, attempting to play the incident down. Considering he died in my hallway, however, that’s almost impossible.
‘And they still don’t know who he was?’