Under The Mistletoe. Kerry Barrett

owl? There was a distant bark… I snuggled back down. What had woken me up? In Luton it was usually a low aeroplane or car alarm going off.

      It was eerily quiet and despite my bravado about speaking to Walter, the night blackness spooked me a bit. I sniffed. What was that familiar sweet smell? I sat back up, suddenly cold with the December night air. The hairs stood up on my arms at the unexpected sound of rushing wind. According to my phone, it was half past twelve. I grabbed one of the purple embroidered cushions at the foot of the bed and gave it a big hug. Maybe Walter was a little bit ticked off at my earlier comments. Come on, um, Mr Carmichael, I was only joking, play that Christmassy tune again, it’s, um, kind of cool. But that sweet smell only got stronger. I switched on the light. Uh oh – it was the smoke from earlier today, once again billowing under the door.

      Every molecule of my being springing into action, I threw the cushion onto the floor and jumped out of bed. My phone fell onto the mattress. Again, like earlier, the door wouldn’t budge. Yelling to wake up Jess, I pulled on the handle, hard. Then I heard banging noises from the adjoining front room as if someone – or something – was moving around. My heart knocked furiously against the inside of my chest.

      ‘Fire! Jess! Wake up!’ I called in a shrill voice.

      ‘Kimmy?’ called a distant voice. ‘Is that smoke coming under my door?’

      ‘Yes! Stop it with a damp towel. Be careful,’ I shouted back. Then, without warning, my bedroom light flicked off. I gasped and stood statue still for a moment before feeling my way back to the switch. On the way I collided with a chest of drawers and tears sprang to my eyes. When I finally found the switch, it didn’t work.

      In the pitch black, I climbed over the mattress, searching for my phone. If I could just get to the window and shout for help… But… Oh no… Please tell me this wasn’t happening… My body went into spasm as something or someone curled their fingers around my foot. Instinctively, I kicked to and fro, imagining all kinds of gruesome scenarios and a weird noise escaped my mouth, like a cross between a wail and a sob. Finally, my leg broke free. Gulping, I dived to the floor and dropped my phone. It skidded under the bed. Astral beings were never so bold on Most Haunted. I must have really wound Walter up.

      Yet could that really have been the grip of some ghostly elderly man? And according to Terry, Walter was a sound bloke. Plus White Christmas hadn’t played since I’d woken up. I swallowed hard. Only one thing could explain this: there had to be two spirits – gentle Mr Carmichael and some evil demon that got up to mischief and blew smoke.

      ‘Stay away!’ I hollered, as heavy breathing came from the other side of the bed. Slowly I got on my knees, turned around and peeked over the bed. My mouth went dry. Standing by the chest of drawers was a tall figure, its arms flailing around. All I wanted to do was curl into a ball and hide but I couldn’t – not now I had Jess and the little one in her stomach to protect.

      ‘Leave me alone!’ Did this evil spirit have an axe? What about a machete? Perhaps a drill? At least if I was famous, I could have assumed it was just a fan waving an autograph book. “Mysterious Murder of Kimmy Jones – Police Grill Ex-boyfriend” would be the headline. Adam would feature in all the celebrity magazines, saying he was innocent and had been about to take me back. Then they’d arrest a crazed fan of mine, a previous offender, whose fingerprints were found on the front door handle…

      The figure’s arms dropped and it strode towards the bed. With a whimper, I ducked down and scrabbled frantically under the bed for my phone. Man up, I told myself; time to put into action those karate moves Adam taught me, after I once got pickpocketed. Hands shaking, I forced myself once more to peep over the bed. Phew. It had gone. Perhaps Walter had somehow scared it off.

      I leapt to my feet, opened the window and screamed for help, feeling even more spooked as a bat flew past the cloud-veiled moon. At least I’d stored Luke’s number in my phone. With bionic speed I searched for his name and pressed dial.

      ‘Luke! Is that you?’ I whispered, voice shaking.

      ‘What? Who is this?’ he mumbled.

      ‘It’s me. Kimmy.’

      ‘Huh? Have you any idea what time it is?’ he whispered back.

      Maybe someone was sleeping next to him.

      ‘Please… I… Come over,’ I stuttered, managing to suppress a sob. ‘I’ve just been… It might come back… And the smoke…’

      ‘Slow down.’

      ‘There’s a…’ Ghost would sound stupid. ‘A burglar about and the lights won’t switch on. There’s that smoke again too… He got hold of my leg and–’

      ‘For God’s sake,’ he said. ‘Not that nonsense again. It was nothing last time You’re a capable woman. Just check through the house for fire hazards. If you’re really worried, call the fire brigade or police.’

      ‘No! We might lose our jobs, if there’s a fuss. Please Luke. Please come round just one more time.’

      ‘Look, I know you like me, Kimmy, but please save your sad ploys to catch my attention to a reasonable hour of the day.’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’ I said, his arrogance helping me forget, for one moment, that my life was at stake.

      ‘Your cooking’s not bad, though,’ he said. ‘If you want to impress, forget these silly stories, just bake me some coffee and walnut cakes.’

      ‘Might have a problem using the oven gloves, if my arms have been hacked off by some weirdo,’ I hissed. ‘Look, I’m sorry to bother you…’ Which was the absolute truth. How I hated asking for help, like Mum had over the years, bugging neighbours and various boyfriends to wire plugs and put up shelves. ‘It, the burglar, whatever, they’re stronger than me and I haven’t got a pepper spray, gun or bat. If not for me, then… then come round for Jess. All this upset won’t do her any good,’ I said.

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘She’s… not well.’

      He sighed down the phone. ‘This better not be another false alarm. If it is, I’ll ring Murphy myself.’

      ‘Oh don’t worry – I really am at risk of being murdered.’ I snapped. ‘And for the last time, you’re the last bloke I’d have a crush on!’

      A phut of exasperation floated down the line. ‘What is it with you housesitters? What’s so difficult about looking after a property and getting it sold?’

      The line clicked dead. I sunk to the floor and hugged my knees. If I’d have rung Adam, there’d have been no questions – he’d have been here in a flash, armed with his quads and biceps. Unless… unless he was over me already. After all, it was over twenty-four hours since we’d last spoken and he’d obviously been fed up with me for weeks prior to that. Although I had to admit, just occasionally, Adam’s protective nature felt suffocating and in a funny way it had felt good to hear Luke say I was capable – that he didn’t feel the need to rush around to fight my battles. Which was a messed up way of thinking because I totally loved caring Adam, didn’t I? Whereas Luke’s unprovoked rudeness was TOTALLY, definitely, unquestionably off-putting – even though I just knew his earthy smell and teasing mouth must make my pupils dilate (nature’s giveaway that something’s got the potential to turn us on).

      My mind raced and I blocked out inquisitive thoughts about what Luke would be like as a boyfriend. Something dug into my side as I leant back against the wall– a pair of my high heeled shoes – perfect, to gouge the eyes out of anything that came near. Every centimetre of my body froze as the door creaked. Someone entered the room. It was too soon to be Luke. Stiletto in hand, I stared across the room.

      ‘Aarggh!’ I hurled myself over the mattress and lashed out with the shoe.

      ‘Ow! What the hell…’ someone shouted. Firmly, the thing prised my weapon out of my hand, then backed me up against the drawers. The demon or whatever it was felt solid and blew warm