Grant slung on his clothes and fetched the baseball bat, which this time was more conveniently placed underneath his side of the bed. He made his way downstairs, slipped on his shoes and headed out through the front door, holding the bat behind him as he walked across the gravel so that he wouldn’t look like a lunatic in the bright glare of the security light which he knew he’d trigger.

Except the light didn’t go on.

What the hell?

After a few steps Grant tensed and he pulled the bat up in front of him, holding it in striking pose. He turned this way and that, searching in the darkness, the illumination from the streetlights beyond not reaching the drive at all. With every slight gust of wind, and every swaying branch he heard, he became more jittery and on edge.

But he could see no one at all.

Really not wanting to be out there in the dark any longer than necessary, Grant turned and walked with more purpose back to the open front door.

That was when the thought struck him: I left the door open!

He rushed into the house and quickly closed the door behind him, still holding the bat at the ready.

‘Mary!’ he called, not far from panic.

‘What?’ she said, coming into view at the top of the stairs. The strain in her voice matched his.

But she was fine and Grant relaxed a little.

‘Did you see anything?’ she asked.

‘No.’

Grant was about to put the bat down when he heard a noise in the kitchen. His anxiety level peaked once more.

‘Mary, wait there.’

Grant squeezed his hands tightly around the bat and edged forwards. The sound came again. Like a gentle rattle. Something tapping on glass? On a window? When Grant reached the doorway he stopped and peered around the space in front of him. The lights in the kitchen were off and he stayed there for a few moments, letting his eyes adjust to the dark.

There was no sign of movement. No sign of anyone.

He took a hand off the bat and quickly flipped the lights on.

The kitchen was empty, everything as they’d left it. There really was no one there. It was all in his mind. He was making an issue out of the natural creaks and strains of the house, and the noise of the wind outside.

But then the sound came again, and this time Grant could place it more clearly. He looked over to the patio doors and saw that a loose branch from the ivy at the back of the house was gently swaying in the wind, and tapping on the window every now and then.

Then a voice came from behind him…

‘What is it?’ Mary whispered.