Midnight. Josephine Cox

and lack of sleep. Making you think I didn’t want you any more.’

      Gently moving away from him, she sat on the edge of the bed. ‘It’s not just the nightmares,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s the fact that you won’t do anything about them.’

      ‘There’s no need. They’ll probably go away in time.’ Deliberately ignoring his protest, Molly went on, ‘The trouble is, you can’t see what I can see.’

      ‘What does that mean?’

      ‘It means that when you’re inside the nightmare, you make these weird little sounds, like you can’t breathe, and you lash out violently, as though fending off some kind of attack – as if there’s something that means to harm you. What is it, Jack? What fills you with such terror?’

      Jack looked away. ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘So, do you want to know?’ Molly’s anger bubbled to the surface. ‘Do you want answers?’

      He shrugged. ‘I just want to be rid of the nightmares.’

      ‘What if they’re not nightmares?’

      ‘What d’you mean?’

      Molly searched for the right words. ‘I’m not sure, but maybe you should get a medical. Maybe it’s something to do with the brain?’

      ‘No medical.’

      Agitated, he got up and went to stand beside her. ‘Listen to me. I know you’re worried for me, and I’m sure the lack of sleep is beginning to affect you too. So I was thinking, maybe the answer is for us to sleep in separate rooms, at least for now?’

      ‘I don’t want to sleep in separate rooms,’ Molly snapped angrily, ‘unless I was right just now, and you really do want to be rid of me. What’s the plan, Jack? Get me out of your bed then the next move is out the door. Is that it?’

      Jack grew agitated. ‘Look, all I’m saying is, we’re both getting ratty, and it’s my fault.’

      ‘So get checked out.’

      ‘OK then, yes – I will.’

      ‘When?’

      He gave a shrug, ‘When I find the time.’

      ‘In other words, never.’

      When Molly began to push him further, he backed off. ‘I’d best get ready for work. I don’t want to be late again.’

      ‘I’m not letting this drop,’ she warned him. ‘I mean it!’

      ‘I can see that.’

      ‘So tell me,’ she demanded, ‘why you won’t get help. Explain it to me, because I don’t understand.’

      ‘Just leave it, Molly. Like I said . . . I’ll deal with it.’

      There was no feasible way of explaining to her. How could he describe to anyone else what he experienced when inside the nightmare? The answer was, he couldn’t. There were no words for it. The whole terrible experience was like a part of him, like an arm or a leg. Sometimes, that haunting place really felt like an extension of himself. How could anyone ever understand?

      Seeing him looking so lost, Molly’s heart went out to him. ‘I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean to be angry,’ she said impatiently. ‘It’s just that I don’t understand how you could suffer for so long, without at least trying to do something about it. There are people out there who might be able to help you. That’s all I’m trying to say.’

      ‘I don’t want us to row,’ Jack told her. ‘But I don’t believe it’s possible to stop someone having nightmares. It’s not like putting sticking plaster on a cut, or fixing a broken arm, is it? And don’t you think I’d have tried talking to someone years ago, if I really thought it might help?’

      ‘All right, Jack, I hear what you’re saying, and I know you don’t like the idea of discussing it with a stranger – but talking to someone about it won’t make it any worse than it is. You could explain how long you’ve been having the nightmares and how they’re disrupting your sleep, so much so that you’ve started nodding off behind the wheel of your car. It’s dangerous, Jack. Suppose you crashed? I would never forgive myself for not having tried everything in my power to make you get help.’

      In truth, she was growing impatient, even asking herself whether she should bring their relationship to an end. After all, there were plenty of other fish in the sea. Jack came with a lot of baggage, and did she really need that responsibility?

      ‘Seeing a doctor won’t help.’

      ‘Oh, and you know that, do you? Without even trying?’ Molly measured her words carefully. ‘We’re not talking about a doctor who mends broken legs or delivers babies. But there are other doctors – who specialise in how the mind works.’

      Jack didn’t like the sound of that. ‘You mean a shrink?’

      ‘If that’s what you want to call them, yes. People who know about troubles of the mind. All I’m asking is that you just go and see. Make enquiries at least.’

      ‘No!’ Jack had had enough. He escaped to the bathroom, calling as he went, ‘Even if I went to see somebody as you suggest, they can’t tell me any more than I already know. All they can do is ask me questions to which I have no answers. Or, they could drug me and probe my mind. I don’t want that, and I won’t do it, not even for you.’

      ‘Now you’re just being pig-headed!’ Molly followed him to the bathroom. ‘Look, you could tell them what happens – what you see, what you feel. Explain how it affects you. Tell them how at first it happened maybe once or twice in a month, but lately it’s every week.’ She took a deep breath, then said more calmly, ‘If you make an appointment, then later decide not to go through with it, that’s OK. You can walk away. It’s worth a try through, isn’t it?’

      Encouraged when he gave no reply, she went on, ‘Just make an appointment, eh? Will you do it, Jack – for my sake?’

      Placing one hand on her shoulder, he absent-mindedly brushed the fringe from her eyes. ‘I don’t like the idea,’ he said. ‘Besides, how could I make them understand, when I don’t even understand myself ?’ Just thinking about it, he could feel the sweat coating the palms of his hands. ‘I’m not sure I can do it, Molly.’

      ‘So, what are you afraid of ?’

      Momentarily taken aback by her direct question, he answered, in a soft voice, almost as though he was speaking to himself, ‘Maybe I’m afraid of what’s lurking there, in the back of my mind. Maybe I’m afraid of releasing some terrible thing that might be even worse than the nightmares.’ He wondered what could ever be worse than his nightmares.

      He grew troubled, ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more,’ he told her. ‘Not to you, and certainly not to some stranger.’ Seeing her about to speak, he snapped, ‘Leave me be, Molly! I’ll deal with it in my own way. I’ve told you before – I can handle it!’

      A few moments later, he emerged from the bathroom, filled with regret for yelling at her, ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘OK, if it’ll make you happy, I’ll promise to think about it, and that’s as far as I go for now. So, does that satisfy you?’

      Molly answered sulkily, ‘Well, it’s a start, at least.’

      ‘OK, so now let it drop. I don’t want to hear any more about it. No more nagging. No more arguments. Agreed?’

      ‘All right, then. But if you haven’t done something about it within a week, then I’ll be after you again. I won’t leave it there!’

      Jack merely gave a grunt.

      ‘I mean it,’ Molly went on. ‘I can’t take much more of it – and I certainly don’t want to sleep in separate beds.’

      ‘Neither do I.’

      ‘But