Witch Hunt

Chapter Nineteen




I was roused by tapping. A pitter patter that got stronger and became an insistent knock.

It was the police outside the window, squinting into the car. I think they thought I was drunk as I couldn’t talk immediately, only shake my head with confusion.

A lorry driver had reported a woman asleep at the wheel, they informed me, and asked was I epileptic? When I told them I wasn’t they took out their gear and breathalysed me.

Thank God I’d only had one at the pub. The whisky did register but I wasn’t over the limit. Eventually they let me go with some cautionary words.

I did my best to get off the main road. I was in no state to cope with the rush hour traffic on the A130, and so navigated to a small village, where I pulled into a pub car park and tried to still my mind.

I had a lot to take on board – a convergence of different experiences. I let them spin around, trying hard to make sense of them; the messaging, the mirror, the dungeons and now this. The word coincidence didn’t cut it any more. It smacked too much of wilful blindness and disclaimers.

Though that didn’t mean I knew what was going on. I knew what it felt like – as if the Fates had spun a web around me and roused an ancient sleeping self. One that was able to tune into things that my old self couldn’t.

I still couldn’t explain what was going on but right then, I felt strongly that there was a reason for it.

I would just have to work out what that was.