Sleepwalk

All characters in this book are ficticious and any resemblance to real

persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Copyright © Ros Seddon 2011

To Jerry Fitzjames

for believing in me………….

Ellie had never seen anything so beautiful. A wilderness of flowers and tall flowing grasses dappled in sunlight lay ahead of her through this dark thicket of trees and bare twisted branches, glowing like a light at the
end of a long dark tunnel. S
he moved closer to the frame
and a feeling of warmth washed over her. She glanced back at the demons who had stopped the
ir
chase and were floating in the darkness; hovering almost. They would not follow her now. Were they afraid? She heard their whispering cries as the forest began to consume them, then
the tangled darkness slowly faded behind her and she felt the warmth of the sun on her face and her bare feet. Above her a rainbow; its myriad of colour washing over her as the sun’s white glow burst through soft floating clouds and sent shimmering rays all around her, dazzling her with their beauty.
Never had she felt such joy inside. Her heart overflowed with pure emotion, pure love. Just one small frame stood between her and this heavenly paradise
; her sanctuary. W
ith no hesitation she reached up her hand and pushed it gently open, then moved through the frame and floated freely and joyously into her Utopia.

The baby was crying when he came home. He could hear it from the street. It was a piti
ful exhausted cry; w
eak and so
ulful; a
cry of painful abandon
and
he knew that she had left him; l
eft him when he needed her.
The bedroom window was open wide creaking back and forth in the wind. He didn’t see her crumpled body until he was half way along the garden path and then he stopped in his tracks and cried out,

‘Ellie! …. Oh God….. No!’

Adrenalin woke him from his drunken stupor as he rushed to her side and felt for a pulse.
She’s alive. Thank God, she’s alive
.
He took off his jacket and laid it ov
er her to keep her warm, then
took his sweater off and wrapped it around her head being very careful not to move her.
Her body was lifeless. Blood from her left ear trickled dark on her pale complexion and ran in three directions, across her forehead, down into the corner of her left eye and to the top of her left cheekbone where it had congealed and formed a ridge. She was unconscious, but breathing and her breath was shallow. He tried
to rouse her, calling her name but Ellie did not move. He ran into the house and picked up the telephone receiver, his hand shaking all the while.

‘Emergency
, which service please?’

T
he voice cracked like thunder into the night.

‘Ambulance please. And please hurry. My wife is unconscious. She… she has fallen from the bedroom window…..’

The train from
Exeter
was running late the announcement had said and Feli
city had forgotten to take her f
ilo fax out of the glove compartment of her car. She glanced at her watch and
then at the s
tation clock which she knew was two and a half minutes fast. Could she….. Dare she….? Within a heartb
eat she was up the stairs; on the flyover and
down the ot
her side to the car park. Filo f
ax tucked safely into the front pocket of her briefcase she started back up the ramp and onto the bridge just as the whistle blew for her train’s departure. She began her descent two steps at a time, h
er arms clutching her briefcase
,
half aware of the tall dark figure at the bottom of the steps. She tried to slow down but t
oo late;
she flew as her heel caught in the tread of the final step sending her flailing into an abyss o
f darkness……. But, w
here was the pain;
the awful dread of failure, of making a complete fool of herself being sprawled across the platform, her tights ripped and her knees bleeding, her documents trodden into a muddy winter puddle and her dignity on its way to
Cornwall
without her?

Felicity looked up at her saviour and saw the deepest pair o
f blue eyes she had ever seen; p
iercingly blue eyes that seemed to look right inside her. He had caught not only her but her briefcase also-intact and was standing before her an archangel, his right arm still supporting her and his left holding her briefcase containing her all important paperwork.

‘Oh my God I’m so sorry.’ She regained her composure as the screeching of wheels started up and her train began to move.

‘My train!’

The archangel turned on his heels and tapped a passing door then whisked her inside, her briefcase momentarily suspended between them before the doors closed and the train gathered momentum and she realised he was gone.

‘What….’ sighed Felicity as she searched for an empty compartment and finding one at last settled down, opened her wretched briefcase and took out her notes for the coming meeting ‘… was that?’

Felicity studied her notes. She had prepar
ed an agenda for her
seminar based on information acquired from Uncle Jim in
America
whose experience of the p
roperty market was second to none and his extremely lucrative business of Waldark & Mas
on was climbing high up the
US
real e
state ladder. As the train sped through
Devon
countryside she went over her introduction in her mind
but no matter how she tried she just couldn’t concentrate on the subject in hand.

‘Hi. I’m Felicity Breen from the East Barton office and I’d like to talk to you today about the tall dark handsome man with eyes like the dee
p blue sea who probably has my f
ilo fax
……….Oh….. My……God!’ As realisation dawned Felicity fumbled around in her briefcase. It wasn’t in the front pocket. Had she moved it? She unzipped the inside pocket and f
elt
in there, then in desperation she tipped the contents out on to the seat next
to her. That was that then. No filo f
ax. Had it fallen out on the
p
latform when she had collided wi
th b
lue eyes or perhaps while she was rushing over the bridge or down the steps or in the car park? Ok so it’s gone. Worst case scenario is someone gets to read all her personal diary entries for the past three months and will
know when and where she has appointments for the next few weeks. Oh, and her address and her phone number and…….

‘Is anyone sitting here?’

‘Um ….. No….. Sorry.’ She gathered up her paperwork and stuffed it back into the case as a rather large lady squeezed in beside her pulling an equally large shopping bag across her lap and Felicity’s, her elbow now boring into Felicity’s shoulder.

‘I would have gone further down but I have to get off at the next stop.’ The woman shuffled in her seat encroaching further on Felicity’s space.
Probably couldn’t get much further down the carriage without having a hernia
thought Felicity as she smiled weakly at the woman and turned to look out of the wi
ndow. She knew the name of the h
otel and the time of the meeting which was all that was important right
now. The loss of her filo f
ax was a small
one. If the meeting went well; i
f she managed to d
eliver a good speech today and if they liked her ideas to i
ncrease productivity her
management of the East Barton office would be saved
for another three months at
least, o
r until the next review.

The light was flashing on her answer phone when she got in that night. Felicity threw down her case and folded her suit jacket over the arm
of the sofa. She went into the k
itchen and took a mug from the cupboard for coffee but the familiar sound of meowing beside her followed by the gentle brushing against her legs told her someone else’s needs were far greater.

‘Hey
pickle. Are you hungry? W
e’d better do something about that then hadn’t we?’

The tabby cat arched his back and rubbed himself fondly against her legs once more. Felicity had never really been a cat person but when she had taken over the lease for her little cottage the cat seemed to come with the territory. He’d been wary of her at first, but here they were, eighteen months
later, the best of friends; a
nd anyway, she was glad of the company.
She
fed the cat and headed for the a
nswer phone.

‘Hi Darling. Just wondering how it went today. Give me a ring when you’re home.’

‘Hi Flick its Sandra. Just wondering how you got on at the meeting and what you’re doing Saturday night. We’re all going into town for a night out and you have to come.
Phone me.’

‘ Er Hi. You won’t know me. My name’s David. David Wilson. We……er bumped into each other this morning at the
s
tation. I believe I have your d
iary. Perhaps you could give me a call and arrange to meet so I can return it. My number is seven seven three two four. Thanks.’

So blue eyes had the filo f
ax. Oh well. At least it was safe from thieves and vagabonds. That is, he seemed like a decent sort of guy and he didn’t have to phone did he? He could have just dumped it or something or just left it where it was and
not given it a second thought; a
nd he did have the most gorgeous eyes……Felicity sank into the sofa and picked up the phone.

‘Hi Mum.’

‘Oh h
ello d
arling. You’re home? So how did it go?’

‘Good. I think. The board was a bit scary, as always but they seemed to listen to my
i
deas and said they’ll give it s
ome thought. I haven’t got the g
o ahead just yet but it looks promising. How was your day? How’s Dad?’

‘Oh he’s ok. Just havin
g one of his off days I think; k
eeps rambling on about the garden and threatening to tackle it h
imself. I’ve arranged for that l
andscaping chap to come over and redesign it like you s
uggested. I think you’re right d
arling. A low maintenance garden is what we need now.’

Felicity worried about her f
ather. Since his retirement he had put everything into the garden and redecorating the house and just wouldn’t slow down. Then after a series of
a
ngina attacks he was warned by the doctor not to do any kind of manual work but just wouldn’t listen to reason. He’d
worked so hard all of his life
. R
etirement hadn’t come easily to him. He wasn’t being put out to grass just yet he’d said.

‘Does h
e know; a
bout the g
ardener?’

Silence……

‘Mum? You have told him haven’t you? Mum?’

‘Oh look there’s the door. Have to go now dear. Will we se
e you on Sunday for lunch? Bye d
arling.’

‘Bye Mum.’ She
put the phone down
and sighed at the cat that was perched on his side of the sofa licking his paws cont
entedly. She would talk to her f
ather on Sunday and try to reason with him. He had to understand t
hat circumstances had changed a
nd he had to change with th
em…. or suffer the consequences.

He was sitting beside her when she came round from the anaesthetic.
How could she do this to him and to little Oliver? Was her life with him so bad that she could even contemplate this?