Page 88 of Who’s That Girl?

Suddenly I realise Lottie has gone silent and I turn round. ‘No, don’t worry, they’re not difficult.’

My younger self is fast asleep.

I stare in disbelief.

No sound machine. No mouthguards. No aromatherapy mask. No humidifier. No blackout blinds. And with the light on. It’s incredible. I obviously didn’t suffer from insomnia back then, I reflect, feeling a tug of envy.

Gently I pull the bedspread over her and she mumbles something faintly in her sleep and turns over. I pause, watching her sleeping, then go to leave. My eyes sweep the room for one last look and land on the unfinished novel, sitting on the desk.

And it’s never going to be finished, I realise, suddenly feeling a beat of sadness. Because I gave up the dream.

I can’t remember how long I stand there, feeling reflective, looking at the girl I used to be. Until finally, switching off the light, I leave her behind and close the door.

Chapter Twenty-six

Bang, bang, bang, bang.

What’s going on? It’s pitch-black and I’m trapped in a wooden box. I can’t see. I can’t move. All I can hear is this incessant—

Bang, bang, bang.

Oh my God, I’m being buried alive. That’s the sound of the nails being hammered into my coffin.

Bang, bang, bang, bang.

I’m going to suffocate. I won’t be able to get out. I’m going to die.

Bang, bang, bang.

Argh, let me out, let me out, LET ME OUTTTTTT!!!!!!

‘Darling, wake up, wake up.’

I snap my eyes open and remove my eye mask to find Miles shaking me by the shoulder.

‘Wassup …? Wha …?’ I sit bolt upright and look at him, dazedly, trying to get my bearings. I’m in bed, and Miles is lying next to me, his face etched with concern.

‘Sshh, don’t worry. You were having a nightmare. You were yelling something about “Let me out.”’

‘Oh … right … yes,’ I murmur, feeling a rush of relief. ‘Oh God, it was horrible, Miles, just horrible.’ I flop back on to the pillow. ‘I was being buried alive.’

He smiles reassuringly. ‘Well, don’t worry, you’re fine now. You’re safe here with me.’ He strokes my hair, which is stuck to my clammy forehead.

Bang, bang, bang, bang.

I stiffen. It’s that noise! ‘What was that?’ I shriek, sitting bolt upright again. See, I wasn’t dreaming. It’s real.

‘Oh, that? Don’t worry, darling, that’s nothing.’ He laughs at my horrified expression. ‘Just the estate agent putting up the sign.’

‘Sign? What sign?’ I gasp, jumping out of bed and dashing to the window. Yanking open the curtain and raising the blackout blinds I stare out into the street. Just in time to see a man with a hammer giving a final thwack to the sign. ‘“FOR SALE,”’ I murmur, reading the large red letters. My heart thuds.

‘Well, what did you think it was going to say?’ says Miles jovially.

‘Um … nothing. I dunno …’ My mind is swirling in uncertain directions. ‘It’s just … isn’t it a bit quick?’

‘Quick?’ replies Miles, propping himself up against the headboard. ‘You can’t be too quick when it comes to the property market, darling,’ he advises sagely. ‘Now our offer’s been accepted, it’s important that the buyers see we mean business, and that means selling our own properties, organising a survey, sorting out the joint mortgage and deposit …’

As his voice drones on, I feel slightly light-headed. I rub my ears agitatedly. ‘I think I’ll make us a coffee,’ I say, cutting him off as he starts talking about setting up a joint account. I suddenly feel claustrophobic, as though I can’t breathe. It’s almost as if my nightmare of being buried alive is actually becoming a reality.