Hiding From the Light. Barbara Erskine

know why.’

      ‘What are you planning to do?’

      ‘Run it as a herb nursery.’

      Piers stared at her. ‘You mean we are still talking about this darn cottage? I don’t believe it. You were even having nightmares about it just now. That is what you were shouting about, Emma. You were shouting “Liza” when you scared Max. Please, Emma, you can’t do this!’

      ‘I have to.’

      ‘You are prepared to throw everything up, everything! To go and live there?’

      She nodded.

      ‘Then you are mad. Totally, completely and utterly off your head.’

      She gave a watery smile. ‘On that at least, we agree. I don’t want it to be the end of us, Piers. I really don’t.’

      ‘How can it not be? I’m a City person, Emma. My life, my job, my friends are all in the City. I can’t … I won’t commute. And I don’t want to spend my weekends somewhere miles out in the country.’

      ‘People do commute from there. It’s only –’

      ‘I don’t care how long it takes, or how far it is. I don’t want to do it. I won’t do it.’

      ‘Then it is the end for us.’ Her tears had dried and her face was white. ‘It has to be. I’m moving down there as soon as the paperwork is done. I’m sorry. I really am. But I have to do it. I have to. It’s mine. It’s where I belong.’

      ‘You belong here!’ Suddenly he was crying.

      ‘No. No, I don’t. I don’t, Piers. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ Tears were pouring down her face, too. Pushing past him she ran towards the door, leaving him staring after her, sobbing like a child.

      It was as she was sitting on the bed, cradling her pillow in her arms, having slammed the door on Piers and run to the bedroom, that she realised both the cats were in there already. Pressed tightly together in the five-inch space under the chest of drawers they were staring at her with huge, terrified eyes.

      ‘You’re scared,’ she murmured at them miserably. ‘And I’m scared. I don’t know why I’m doing this. I don’t understand anything any more. I don’t understand anything at all.’

       17

       Wednesday morning

      Flora Gordon was waiting for Emma at Planet Organic. She was already drinking an orange juice. Her wildly frizzy blonde hair was if anything more dishevelled than usual, and she had a pile of shopping bags around her feet as she sat on the high stool at the counter.

      ‘Em?’ She slipped down and gave Emma a hug. ‘What on earth is the matter? You sounded like hell when you rang me. Why aren’t you in the office?’ Flora was one of Emma’s oldest friends. They had been at school together but after that their paths had diverged, Emma to university and City job, Flora to a career in alternative medicine which had led her to study all over the world before she returned to set up a practice in London.

      Emma was fighting back tears, again. ‘I’ve resigned. It looks as though Piers and I are splitting up. I’m moving to the country.’

      Flora stared at her for a brief moment, shocked into silence. Then she smiled. ‘So? Why on earth are you crying? That’s the best news I’ve heard in years.’ She hoisted herself back onto her stool. ‘Sweetheart, I know Piers is a dish and I know you thought it was forever, but you and he could never have hit it off for long. You’re too different. He’s a corporate man; if we are being honest here, a teeny bit stick-in-the-mud; even boring!’ She grabbed Emma’s hands and hauled her bodily up onto the stool next to her own. ‘I know he is sweet and kind and he worships you, but he is stifling you, Em. There’s a wonderful free woman in there,’ she prodded Emma’s chest, ‘just screaming to be released.’ She leaned forward. ‘Where are you going? I hope I can still come and see you often.’

      Emma began to smile in spite of herself. She ordered a coffee from the girl behind the counter, then she looked back at Flora and shrugged. ‘You’re the first person who hasn’t told me I’m mad.’

      ‘Of course you’re not mad.’ Flora put her head to one side and scrutinised Emma’s face. ‘You’ve got a lot of friends, Em, people who really love you, but they are on the whole terribly conventional. At least the ones I’ve met are.’ She grimaced. ‘None of those colleagues of yours and Piers’s see the real you. I was beginning to be frightened that Piers had secretly murdered you and replaced you with a Stepford financial partner!’

      Emma laughed out loud. ‘I needed to hear that. I’ve been so torn, Flora. I’ve been having awful nightmares about the whole thing. I can’t tell you how scared I’ve been. It’s such a big step. I’m not really sure why I’m doing it.’

      ‘Because you saw the cage closing?’

      Emma stared at her thoughtfully. ‘Do you think that was it? I thought it was because I’ve fallen in love with a cottage up on the north Essex coast where I spent my childhood holidays.’

      Flora shook her head. ‘We all fall in love with things and do nothing about it.’ She giggled. ‘Just as well, or Sean Bean would be in my cupboard at home right now, awaiting my pleasure! Em,’ she took a deep thoughtful sigh, ‘you’ve actually acted on this impulse of yours, so it must be important. Do you remember, when we were children, we had dreams? We played with the idea of who we would be one day. Everyone does. But when we grow up we forget those dreams. They are still there, but they seem unobtainable. Unrealistic. Best forgotten. You’ve remembered.’ She leaned forward and put her hand over Emma’s. ‘You’ve gone back to the scene of your childhood, a childhood when you were wildly happy, and you’ve been given another chance. There must be a reason for that. Don’t throw it away. Don’t look back. Go for it!’

      Emma was silent for a moment. Outside a car squealed to a halt and they heard an angry exchange of voices from the road followed by the roar of an engine as it sped off again. Two people walked into the shop talking loudly and between them a child started to cry.

      ‘You will come and see me?’ Emma bit her lip.

      ‘Try and stop me.’ Flora looked at her watch. ‘Look, sweetheart, I’ve got to go. I’ve someone coming for a treatment in half an hour. Keep me informed, won’t you, and don’t you dare forget to give me your new address.’ She slipped off her stool and bent to gather up her bags. ‘Remember, there’s a reason this has happened, Em. Ring me. Keep me posted.’ She gave her a hug, blew a kiss and she was gone.

       18

       Wednesday night

      Mike Sinclair woke suddenly and stared round his bedroom. His heart was thudding with fear and he was drenched with sweat. He sat up and reached for the alarm clock by the bed. It had fallen over and he scrabbled for it, disorientated. It was only half past eleven. He had been asleep for less than half an hour. With a groan he walked over to the curtains and threw them back. That huge yellow moon was still there, the light flooding across the garden and into the windows of the house. What had he been dreaming about? It was coming back to him slowly. It was a bear. He had seen a bear padding towards him up the lane. It was a black bear with long curved claws which scraped on the road and huge teeth through which it was slavering, its breath foul, its small red eyes fixed on his face. And he couldn’t move. He had not been able to move.

      He took a deep breath, staring out of the window, aware suddenly that he was straining his eyes, looking for the bear in the black moon shadows of the garden.

      ‘Come on, Mike. It’s only a dream,’ he muttered