Matt nodded and stared down at the floor. He could still hear the rain crashing down outside the front door, but he didn’t mind; suddenly he wanted nothing more than to get out of this house.

‘Well, thanks for the tea and everything,’ he said. ‘Sorry for interrupting you, I should have called ahead first to make sure he was in.’

He smiled at Anne and turned to the front door. He’d just touched the handle when her voice rang out again behind him.

‘You should visit my son.’

He turned back to her. Anne hadn’t moved, but she was standing awkwardly in the hallway with her hands clasped in front of her.

‘You should visit Tim,’ she said again. ‘I used to look after him, but I don’t get to so much now he’s away. I’m sure he’d like to see you.’

Matt smiled at her, nodded his head, then turned and left through the front door. The wind and rain buffeted him the moment he stepped outside.

As he turned the collar of his coat up and walked down the path to the road, he realised she’d never given him the umbrella.

*

Back on the bus and heading in the direction of the train station, Matt tried to collect his thoughts. It wasn’t easy. Going into Mr Stevens’ house he’d felt uncertain, not sure he was doing the right thing. Now he felt even less sure of himself.

The rain had eased up slightly but it was still falling steadily, hitting the bus window with a soft, constant patter. Matt’s clothes felt damp against his skin.

He wished he’d thought to take a photo of the dream journal and the letter on his phone. He’d been in a rush, though, and the thought hadn’t occurred at the time. It was sloppy.

Still, he could remember most of what he’d read. He’d keep it fixed in his mind until he was on the train, and then he’d make some notes on the pad of paper he kept in his bag.

There were two things in particular that had stuck in his head. The first was a line from the letter Anne had written. Four little words that she’d scrawled somewhere near the beginning.

I know it’s you.

Thinking of those words made Matt feel a chill that was nothing to do with his damp skin.

The second thing he kept thinking of was from Anne’s dream journal. An image from her first dream. Despite the strangeness of the second, longer dream she’d written about, it was the first one Matt found particularly disturbing. It was similar to a nightmare he’d had himself. One that had recurred on and off over the years.