Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 1: Midnight, Blood Brothers, Songbird. Josephine Cox

cold, unmoving.

      He could hardly breathe. He needed to get away from here.

      He could hear Molly calling. He knew she would save him – but for how long? So many times he’d escaped, only to be drawn back, time and again, to this lonely midnight place.

      The darkness and the images had haunted him forever; almost to the edge of madness.

      From far away Molly’s insistent voice quietened his heart, ‘Wake up, Jack . . . wake up!’

      Desperate to leave, he was instinctively compelled to stay.

      Why had the visions plagued him all these years? Why would they not let him be?

      ‘Ssh now.’ Folding the corner of the bedsheet, Molly wiped away the beads of sweat that poured down his face. ‘Listen to me. It’s just a dream,’ Softly she coaxed him, ‘Open your eyes, Jack. Come away now.’

      Most times she could waken him, but this time he resisted. Closing her fingers about his flailing fists, she spoke sternly: ‘Jack! You need to open your eyes and look at me.’

      Suddenly, without warning, the fight went from him. His clenched fists fell heavily by his sides and Molly felt his whole body tremble and shiver. He woke up and turned to look at her, his eyes scarred and heavy with what he had seen, back there, in that place.

      ‘Midnight, ’ he whispered brokenly. The remnants of horror lingered like a cloak over his mind. ‘Where is it, Molly?’ he murmured. ‘What does it mean?’ He gave an involuntary shiver. ‘Why won’t it let me be?’

      She searched for an answer. ‘It isn’t real,’ she said finally. ‘It was just a dream – a bad dream – and now it’s over.’

      When he slowly shook his head, she placed the palms of her hands either side of his face. ‘Let it go, Jack. Don’t think about it now.’ Like many times before, she saw how deeply it affected him. Tenderly, she kissed him, once on each cheek, much as a mother might kiss her child. ‘It’s gone now,’ she comforted him. ‘Maybe it won’t ever come back.’

      ‘Maybe.’ He leaned into her embrace. ‘. . . Maybe not.’ He knew it would be back. Molly meant well, but she didn’t know what it was like. How could she?

      All his life the nightmare had haunted him, and not only when he slept. Sometimes in the daylight hours, something evil carried him back there. Something urgent. Something deep in his psyche.

      As a boy he might be playing in the street with his pals, when the darkness would suddenly come over him and he would creep away to hide in some quiet corner. The other boys began to tease him. They said it was no good having Jack Redmond on your side, because halfway through the match he would suddenly run away to huddle in a dark corner. He never told them the truth. He never told anyone.

      If he had, they might have thought he was ‘off his rocker’ and should be locked away – like that poor soul on Tamworth Street who had drowned her newborn twins before killing herself. He heard the cruel talk, about how she should ‘rot in Hell’. The thought of it filled him with a different horror.

      Jack Redmond had never betrayed the awful secret he carried with him. He began to believe he must have done a bad thing. If not, then why was he afraid to close his eyes and sleep?

      And what about the drawings he’d made at school? Those frightening images that appeared on the paper, almost as though something – or someone – else was making the pictures and not him.

      The teachers were annoyed. They took the drawings away. They said he should pay attention and listen to what was asked of him, instead of allowing his imagination to run riot.

      They never understood – but it wasn’t their fault. How could they see what he saw, trapped in that lonely hellhole, so real and terrifying? Was it his warped imagination? Or was there really a place like that somewhere?

      What a shocking thought . . . that it might actually exist outside of his nightmares. He shuddered. Surely that could never be.

      Or could it?

      As the years passed, the fragmented images remained, as did the feelings of helplessness. He had so many questions, and no answers. Jack wondered if he would ever know the truth, and more importantly – did he really want to?

      All he had ever wanted was for it all to go away, and for him to be normal, like other people. Instead, the nightmares were growing stronger, more persistent. He wanted to know, but he was afraid.

      Jack took a deep breath, thrusting the images from his mind. Outside, the early-morning sun in Leighton Buzzard was already spreading a brightness over the day. Soon, the alarm would go off and he would get up and go about his business. For now though, he felt halfway between that place and this. It was a strange, disturbing feeling.

      He heard Molly speaking softly in his ear. ‘Feeling better now?’

      A quietness came over him as he gazed on that wide, pretty mouth and troubled brown eyes. Molly was everything to him. She was his woman, and she kept him sane.

      He had always believed that he and Molly were meant to be. To have her as his wife, settle down and raise a family was his dearest wish. But he dared not make any plans for a future together. At least, not until he was rid of the demons that tormented him.

      Drawing her close, he kissed her tenderly. ‘Yes, I’m all right.’ He needed her, but he did not deserve her. ‘Thank you, Molly,’ he murmured. ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘Ssh.’ Running her fingers through his unruly mop of brown hair, Molly thought him to be a fine figure of a man. He had such strength of character in his features, particularly his eyes, which could be very mischievous at times; yet even when he laughed, those eyes were brooding, as though hiding a secret – a cruel, unforgiving secret that haunted the mind.

      ‘Molly?’ Jack leaned forward, to bury his face in the softness of her neck, ‘I’m sorry.’ He drew away, but kept his arm about her. ‘None of this is fair on you.’

      ‘No, it isn’t!’ Her quiet anger was fuelled by a pressing desire to get on with their lives. ‘You’re right. What’s happening is not fair – on either of us.’ It was time to say what she felt.

      His silence made her feel guilty, but she continued: ‘It’s been going on for too long, and I’m afraid.’

      ‘Afraid?’ Jack thought it an odd thing for her to say. ‘Of what, exactly?’

      ‘The nightmares . . . the way they affect you. I’m afraid for you, Jack.’

      She was also afraid for herself. Angry too. Why would he never listen to her?!

      Jack remained quiet. He was used to her sudden bursts of anger, but this time he believed she was right to speak her mind.

      ‘You need help,’ she insisted, ‘Surely you can see that?’

      Shrugging her off, Jack replied, ‘It was just a bad dream and now it’s gone – maybe for ever.’

      Molly grew impatient. ‘You must see what’s happening to us! The nightmares . . . the lack of sleep, and the fear of where it’s all leading. We can’t go on like this – it’s eating into our lives. You have to see someone!’

      Impatient, Jack moved away. ‘I’ve heard it all before, Molly. I don’t need to hear it again!’

      ‘Oh, but you do.’ Clambering up, she stood before him, deliberately blocking his way. ‘I see what it does to you, Jack, and this time it was worse than ever, because this time I was beginning to think I would not be able to bring you back. I was frightened, Jack. I was really frightened!’

      ‘You needn’t have been.’

      Her voice shaking, Molly gave him a warning, ‘I can’t put up with this, Jack. Can’t you see? This thing is taking over! You can’t sleep and when you do, you go to a place where there is no rest, no peace, and sometimes lately when I talk to you, you’re not