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Back The Midnight Man Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Contents
  3. Copyright
  4. Praise for Caroline Mitchell
  5. Also by Caroline Mitchell
  6. Dedication
  7. Epigraph
  8. Prologue
  9. 1
  10. 2
  11. 3
  12. 4
  13. 5
  14. 6
  15. 7
  16. 8
  17. 9
  18. 10
  19. 11
  20. 12
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. 23
  32. 24
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. 56
  65. 57
  66. 58
  67. Epilogue
  68. Acknowledgements
  69. About Caroline Mitchell
  70. About Embla Books

‘Baby, it’s Mummy,’ she said, crying out as he sank his teeth into her arm. She repeated the words. Mummy was here. He was dreaming. He was safe. Slowly, he came back to her. His limbs relaxed. His breathing slowed. She released her grip. He batted his long black lashes, a string of drool hanging lazily from the corner of his mouth. Staring at her in confusion, he emerged as if from a trance, the moon casting his skin in a blue hue.

‘Mummy?’ His breath shuddered from exertion.

‘It’s OK,’ she smiled, wiping his chin with the corner of her cardigan before guiding him back to bed. ‘You’re sleepwalking, that’s all.’ It was the most reassuring way of describing what he was going through.

She hugged him tightly, feeling warmth from the damp patch in his pyjamas where he had wet himself. She would bathe him in the morning, but right now, she needed to get him back to sleep. Offering quiet reassurance, she changed him into clean, dry pyjamas before tucking him into bed. A glint of silver caught her eye and she picked up the object from the floor. Elliott couldn’t sleep without his medal. His father had been awarded the Queen’s Gallantry Medal for fearlessly running towards a helicopter crash and saving many lives. Perhaps Elliott hoped his daddy’s bravery would rub off on him. Slipping it beneath the pillow, she smoothed over Elliott’s hair, just as she did when he was a baby. A soft trickle of blood oozed from the bitemark on her forearm as she waited for the sound of his gentle snores. She shuddered as a draught caressed her skin.

He had never been this bad before. She could have asked him what he was dreaming about while it was fresh in his mind. Like the time he foresaw that awful train crash in Bristol, or when a school bus in Romford had lost control in the snow and three people had died.

She recalled the grim-faced police officer asking how she knew her sister had taken her own life. ‘Instinct,’ she’d replied. Because instinct, people could deal with. Premonitions they could not. Tonight, her son had seen something truly terrifying, and to her shame, she didn’t want to know.

4

The sun broke in ribbons between the trees, casting Blackhall Manor in a sepia tone. Standing on the hill I gazed at the building, my mind a blackish flies’ nest of thoughts.