She’s the same but different as she stands above me, her lips moving as she speaks.
‘I won’t let you make them suffer for your sick gain.’
I try to speak and explain that it’s all wrong. That it was an act but nothing comes out. My body is incapable of moving at all and when my eyelids close this time they do not open again.
Chapter forty-one
Isla
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Ergh, why do we always stay in places that are run down? I’m sick of being woken up to the sound of a leaky roof.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Right, that’s it I give in.
‘I’m up!’ I throw the duvet cover off of me, but don’t yet have the mental energy to stop cuddling my beautiful pillow.
God, this thing is the absolute best thing to happen to me. Who knew a body-sized pillow could bring so much comfort?
Screw Liam, this thing is staying forever, even when the wee guy comes.
Come to think of it, where is Liam?
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I look around, searching for the source of such a ridiculously annoying sound. But I find nothing… the ceiling has no cracks and doesn’t show any signs of a leak. What the fuck is it and why does it think it has a right to wake me from my slumber?
Tap. Tap. Tap.
With a growl I launch upright, still surprisingly quick for a pregnant gal if I do say so myself. A very grouchy one at that.
Why does everything insist on getting on my nerves? I’m supposed to be in my zen era. Meditating with the pigeons and doing breathwork with the mooing cows not scowling into an empty room trying to figure out where an irritating tapping sound is coming from.
Just as it starts up again, I realise the distinct sound of the surface it comes from. Glass.
I pad over to the window not bothering to slip into my slippers, too fuming to care about cold toes right now.
I rip the curtains open, ready for war. ‘What—’
Caught straight in the act Hilda’s beak is ready to connect with the window but she stops last second as she spots me.
‘What are you doing girl?’ I ask more concerned than angry now.
She never comes to wake me up. Half of me suspects that is because she understands my situation and knows that these last few weeks are the only hope I have at getting any shut eye. So why is she here, adamant to get me up.
I crack open the window seeing if she wants to come inside. Maybe her man has pissed her off and she needs some time to destress.
Come to think of it, where is my man?
‘You want in girl?’ I coo holding out my finger for her to perch on. The window doesn’t open very far so she might struggle flying through with her wings.
Like the lovely lady she is, she lands on my finger but the second I begin to pull back into the room she begins frantically flapping her wings, not letting go of her grip on my finger as she does so.
‘Whoa, whoa girl. What’s up? What’s wrong?’
She looks back at me as if pleading for me to follow and because I’m no idiot, I listen to my pigeon. ‘Okay, girl I’m coming.’
