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

      ‘Yes?

      In a stern voice Molly told him what was on her mind. ‘These nightmares . . . the lack of proper sleep – it’s only a matter of time before it affects your work, and mine too.’

      Jack was adamant. ‘That won’t happen!’

      ‘But it could!’ Molly was relentless. ‘I mean, it’s definitely beginning to affect our relationship.’

      In that moment, a sobering thought came to her. ‘Oh my God! Maybe it’s not the nightmares or lack of sleep that’s taking you from me!’

      ‘What d’you mean?’ Jack was shaken. ‘Nothing is taking me from you!’

      ‘Don’t fob me off, Jack! Every time I raise the question of marriage, you’re full of excuses. You need to save more money first, or you want to wait until I’m absolutely sure I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Well, I can tell you now, I’m beginning to think you want rid of me but you don’t have the guts to tell me, so then you worry, and the worry plays on your mind and you have these bad dreams. That’s the truth of it, isn’t it?’

      ‘No!’ He was genuinely shocked. ‘No, it isn’t, and I can’t believe you’re even thinking that.’

      ‘So what am I supposed to think? Tell me, Jack. I mean, we don’t talk at any great length, do we? We don’t even go out any more. We don’t have friends back – and we haven’t made love in weeks! Can you blame me for thinking you don’t want me any more?’

      Wrapping his capable hands about her small shoulders, he drew her closer, ‘I love you as much as ever. You’re a very special part of my life, and always will be.’ He kissed her full and longingly on the mouth. ‘You and me, we belong together,’ he whispered. ‘I knew it from the start.’

      ‘Do you really mean that?’

      ‘You know I do, Molly, and like I say . . . I’m really sorry for putting you through all that – the nightmares 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