Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 1: Midnight, Blood Brothers, Songbird

‘So tell me,’ she demanded, ‘why you won’t get help. Explain it to me, because I don’t understand.’

‘Just leave it, Molly. Like I said . . . I’ll deal with it.’

There was no feasible way of explaining to her. How could he describe to anyone else what he experienced when inside the nightmare? The answer was, he couldn’t. There were no words for it. The whole terrible experience was like a part of him, like an arm or a leg. Sometimes, that haunting place really felt like an extension of himself. How could anyone ever understand?

Seeing him looking so lost, Molly’s heart went out to him. ‘I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean to be angry,’ she said impatiently. ‘It’s just that I don’t understand how you could suffer for so long, without at least trying to do something about it. There are people out there who might be able to help you. That’s all I’m trying to say.’

‘I don’t want us to row,’ Jack told her. ‘But I don’t believe it’s possible to stop someone having nightmares. It’s not like putting sticking plaster on a cut, or fixing a broken arm, is it? And don’t you think I’d have tried talking to someone years ago, if I really thought it might help?’

‘All right, Jack, I hear what you’re saying, and I know you don’t like the idea of discussing it with a stranger – but talking to someone about it won’t make it any worse than it is. You could explain how long you’ve been having the nightmares and how they’re disrupting your sleep, so much so that you’ve started nodding off behind the wheel of your car. It’s dangerous, Jack. Suppose you crashed? I would never forgive myself for not having tried everything in my power to make you get help.’

In truth, she was growing impatient, even asking herself whether she should bring their relationship to an end. After all, there were plenty of other fish in the sea. Jack came with a lot of baggage, and did she really need that responsibility?

‘Seeing a doctor won’t help.’

‘Oh, and you know that, do you? Without even trying?’ Molly measured her words carefully. ‘We’re not talking about a doctor who mends broken legs or delivers babies. But there are other doctors – who specialise in how the mind works.’

Jack didn’t like the sound of that. ‘You mean a shrink?’

‘If that’s what you want to call them, yes. People who know about troubles of the mind. All I’m asking is that you just go and see. Make enquiries at least.’

‘No!’ Jack had had enough. He escaped to the bathroom, calling as he went, ‘Even if I went to see somebody as you suggest, they can’t tell me any more than I already know. All they can do is ask me questions to which I have no answers. Or, they could drug me and probe my mind. I don’t want that, and I won’t do it, not even for you.’

‘Now you’re just being pig-headed!’ Molly followed him to the bathroom. ‘Look, you could tell them what happens – what you see, what you feel. Explain how it affects you. Tell them how at first it happened maybe once or twice in a month, but lately it’s every week.’ She took a deep breath, then said more calmly, ‘If you make an appointment, then later decide not to go through with it, that’s OK. You can walk away. It’s worth a try through, isn’t it?’

Encouraged when he gave no reply, she went on, ‘Just make an appointment, eh? Will you do it, Jack – for my sake?’

Placing one hand on her shoulder, he absent-mindedly brushed the fringe from her eyes. ‘I don’t like the idea,’ he said. ‘Besides, how could I make them understand, when I don’t even understand myself ?’ Just thinking about it, he could feel the sweat coating the palms of his hands. ‘I’m not sure I can do it, Molly.’

‘So, what are you afraid of ?’

Momentarily taken aback by her direct question, he answered, in a soft voice, almost as though he was speaking to himself, ‘Maybe I’m afraid of what’s lurking there, in the back of my mind. Maybe I’m afraid of releasing some terrible thing that might be even worse than the nightmares.’ He wondered what could ever be worse than his nightmares.

He grew troubled, ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more,’ he told her. ‘Not to you, and certainly not to some stranger.’ Seeing her about to speak, he snapped, ‘Leave me be, Molly! I’ll deal with it in my own way. I’ve told you before – I can handle it!’

A few moments later, he emerged from the bathroom, filled with regret for yelling at her, ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘OK, if it’ll make you happy, I’ll promise to think about it, and that’s as far as I go for now. So, does that satisfy you?’

Molly answered sulkily, ‘Well, it’s a start, at least.’

‘OK, so now let it drop. I don’t want to hear any more about it. No more nagging. No more arguments. Agreed?’

‘All right, then. But if you haven’t done something about it within a week, then I’ll be after you again. I won’t leave it there!’

Jack merely gave a grunt.

‘I mean it,’ Molly went on. ‘I can’t take much more of it – and I certainly don’t want to sleep in separate beds.’

‘Neither do I.’

‘But it might come to that. Just look at us now. We’re almost at each other’s throats again, and I don’t want it to be like this.’

He may be a good catch, she thought, but was he worth the aggravation?

Having washed and shaved, Jack now threw on his shirt and trousers while Molly had a quick shower and got ready for work at Banbury’s estate agents.

Over coffee, Jack was bright and chatty, but he rejected breakfast. ‘I’m not really hungry, ’ he said. ‘The boss is out on some appointment and the other four guys are all tied up with clients, so I’ve been asked to oversee the showrooms. I thought we might meet up for a bite to eat about twelvish My treat, so what do you say?’

Molly liked the idea of that. ‘Great! I’ve got a viewing in Leighton Buzzard at ten-thirty, which should take me up to midday, so yes, I’m up for that.’

Jack was anxious to get away, ‘So, I’ll see you later then?’

After a quick slurp of her coffee, Molly asked him. ‘Can I just say one more thing? Then I promise, I’ll shut up?’

Jack nodded. ‘Go on then,’ he urged. ‘One more thing, but then I’ve got to go.’

Molly spoke with sincerity. ‘I know I’ve been nagging you, but it’s only because I’m worried. It’s been three months since I came to live here with you, and in that time, I’ve seen what these nightmares do to you. Even during the day sometimes, I’ve seen how you glance over your shoulder, almost as though you half expect somebody to be there. It does concern me, Jack, and I’d be so relieved if I knew you were seeing someone about getting help. Before it drives us both crazy.’

Reaching out, she patted his hand. ‘There! That’s all I wanted to say, and now I’ll shut up about it. So, where do you want to meet up? I don’t want to go to that scruffy little café near the showrooms. The last time we went there, I had a hair in my sandwich.’

Jack was easy. ‘OK – what about the pub in Woburn Sands – the one on the corner, called the Drake? They do cracking home-cooked food.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I’ve had lunch there.’ ‘Oh, really? So how come you didn’t take me?’ ‘Because it was a work thing, booked and paid for by the customer.’ Grabbing his jacket from the back of the door, Jack slipped it on. ‘I’ll see you there then?’

On his way to the car, Jack looked back to see Molly waving him goodbye from the doorway.

‘See you later!’ he called.

Molly gave a curt nod.

A moment later, he was gone.

‘You’d best keep your promise, Jack Redmond!’ she muttered to herself.

En route to work, Jack thought about Molly’s warning. He understood her concern, but she could have no real idea of his fears. Crawling along in the traffic, his mind went back to when he was a child. Strangers had tried before and failed to rid him of the nightmares. ‘They couldn’t help me then,’ he thought, ‘so how can they help me now, when I’m thirty?’ Leaving Leighton Buzzard behind, he swung onto the A5 and headed for Bletchley.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he slowly began to agree that Molly was right. It was only a matter of time before their relationship was damaged beyond repair, and he didn’t want that to happen.

By the time he’d arrived at work and parked the car, the idea was growing on him. Making his way down to the showrooms, he felt more confident with every stride. ‘I suppose I could make an appointment,’ he thought, ‘and like Molly said, I don’t need to stay if I feel uncomfortable about it.’

Pushing open the heavy glass doors, he bade a cheery good morning to his colleagues. ‘Is the boss in?’ he asked the pretty blonde at reception.

Flicking out a handkerchief, the girl, called Jan, discreetly blew her nose. ‘Sorry, Jack, but, Old Branagan called in to say he was heading straight for Bedford.’

‘Dammit!’ Jack was disappointed. ‘I’ve got someone interested in trading his car against our demonstrator. I just need to run the costing by him.’

He gave it a moment’s thought. ‘That’s okay. The customer isn’t due until late morning – plenty of time for me to phone the boss on his mobile. All I need is a quick conversation. I’ve got all the figures, except for the price tag on the demonstrator.’