Sleepless

She didn’t know why she’d done it.

Harriet had asked and up had gone her hand, seemingly of its own accord.

She blamed the extra sleep.

They were now sat on the green. Nearby, the monastery gift shop was meant to look like a picturesque cottage with its peaked red-tiled hat. But there was nothing picturesque about it. Its wooden front door, warped by damp, bowed out slightly as if the whole place was a pus-filled spot, holding its wrongness inside, the outside skin stretched so tight it could pop and ooze at any moment.

It wasn’t forbidden to spend their lunch and breaktimes outside, but it was late October and, invariably, Rosie and Thea found themselves alone on blanket-covered wet grass even though the weather wasn’t too cold.

Normally, in her sleepless world, the hours after lunch were a dirty water stain on the day: grey, shapeless, ever spreading. Today, however, Thea gazed around her with a new clarity: eyesight sharp, brain sharper.

‘What’s the big deal about outdoor shoes anyway?’ Rosie asked.

How could Thea explain it to Rosie? That sometimes, when she was in the Centre, she felt that the walls would suck her in, the glossy cream closing over her completely, sealing over her mouth when she tried to scream?

The face in the monastery window.

‘I just like getting some fresh air,’ was all she could articulate. She’d thought about telling Rosie what she’d seen but, however she played it in her mind, it just sounded silly. No one was there. A few carefully worded questions to Rory one day had confirmed that the monastery was abandoned and had been since the last monk had shuffled out in the 1980s.

‘Yep, well, it is certainly fresh today.’ Rosie pulled another blanket tighter across her shoulders. The sky didn’t look fresh at all; it looked grimy, like over-handled dough. ‘I’ll come though, if you want to go for a walk. Could use the exercise.’

‘Ladies.’ Rory sat down next to them.

He rustled the bag invitingly.

‘What is it today?’ Rosie sat up and made a swipe for it.

She was too slow and Rory hid it behind his back.

‘Today, my fellow connoisseurs’ – there was more rustling as he fumbled with the bag behind him – ‘we have a veritable feast, a delight … a delectation … of cocoa and milky goodness!’

With a flourish he produced a bunch of chocolate bars and laid them reverently on the grass, fanning them out like cards.

Rosie pounced on one and tore the wrapper off immediately.

‘God, I love you, Rory Thirwood,’ she said, her mouth full of chocolate bar. ‘Seriously, I will have your babies. My stash ran out a week ago. Bloody inhuman, not letting us have chocolate.’

‘I aim to please,’ he said modestly, unpacking a sandwich and an apple for himself. ‘But I’m not in the mood for procreation right now, thanks all the same.’

Thea rolled her eyes and chose a chocolate bar.

‘So, I hear you’ve been making a name for yourself.’ Rory turned to Thea.

‘It’s just shoes! God! What is the big deal? Why do we have to wear these stupid slippers all the time anyway?’

‘I think in therapy you might want to consider “talking through” your problem with moccasins.’ Rory ducked as Thea threw his apple at him. ‘And your anger issues.’

Thea leant back on her elbows and stretched her legs out in front of her, wiggling her feet. She’d been awake for most of the previous night, the dark hours a staircase and her mind a small ball gathering speed down its stairs. Usually the stairs were unending, but again last night, the ball had finally come to rest. She had slept longer.

‘Bring on Phase Two,’ Rosie said, never one to let a silence linger. ‘I am done with my night terrors. I woke up so sweaty last night, I had to have a shower at one in the morning.’

‘What was the nightmare?’ Thea asked.

‘Rats. They were gnawing my toes off.’ She licked the wrapper clean and then flopped back onto the grass. ‘It’s going to work, right? The tech?’

Rory rubbed his apple on his trousers. He was wearing baggy cords and a T-shirt over a long-sleeved top. This time the T-shirt had a print of zombie mermaids eating sailors.

‘Well, there’s a lot of tech. And a lot of clever people doing a lot with that tech, so yeah, hopefully, it’ll work.’

Thea wasn’t listening. She was marvelling at how fast she could think, and how she didn’t feel like her joints were gummed up with sludge. There was so much space in her brain, now she wasn’t always obsessing about how tired she felt, or how she’d get through the day, or whether she’d had enough coffee to attempt driving. But there was another kind of space opening up too: it was picnic-blanket-sized and big enough to fit jokes and gossip and random chat that went nowhere. It was big enough for Rosie and Rory.

Thea clenched her fists. ‘Look. I think I saw something. Up at the monastery. I went for a walk up there when I first arrived and I saw … something at one of the windows.’ She picked up pace. ‘And I know it’s stupid but I can’t get it out of my head and I need proper outdoor shoes to get up there again and, no, I don’t believe in ghosts and, yes, I totally understand if you think I’m crazy—’

She gasped for breath. It was probably the most she’d said in one go since she’d arrived. Rory and Rosie stared at her.

‘Ghosts?’ Rosie said hopefully.

Someone cleared their throat behind them. ‘It was you, wasn’t it – you’re the one who asked for shoes?’

Thea twisted to see Ethan stood behind her, feet planted wide, arms crossed like a bouncer in a nightclub doorway. Rosie hurriedly smoothed her hair and swiped chocolate stains from her mouth.

‘Yes,’ Thea said. ‘I did.’ She hoped he hadn’t heard her rant about ghosts and faces in windows.

He nodded and frowned. ‘This phone thing …’

‘Chocolate?’ Rosie offered.

Ethan ignored her and stared off into the distance, as if the trees were doing something he disapproved of.

‘Sometimes you sniff the milk and it smells okay, but you know – despite the smell – that it’s about to turn,’ Ethan said, still staring.

Rory turned to get a better look at him. ‘Are you okay, mate? Look, there really isn’t anything to worry about. Studies show that smartphones—’

‘Thea!’ Harriet called to her as she teetered over the grass towards them, the wet earth sucking at her heels. ‘Thea, so this is where you are! Really? In this weather? You’ll catch a chill. Anyway … ‘She stopped at the small group of people and inspected the damage to her shoes. ‘Delores would like a little word with you.’

She began to wobble back to the Centre, calling behind her, ‘Come on then!’

Thea got up, clutching her blanket to her, feeling a bit light-headed. ‘Wait! Why—?’

But Harriet was too far away. Was this about the shoes? Was Thea about to be reprimanded by the headteacher for a stupid pair of stupid shoes? It seemed so ridiculous.

Ethan caught her eye and muttered softly, ‘Yep. You can’t smell it yet but, the milk’s about to go bad.’

Maybe it was some kind of prickle in her soul that made her look up, past the windows on the first few floors of the Sleep Centre, higher, to a window at the top of the Staff Bubble, where someone stood, probably watching over the green. To Thea though, it really seemed like she was watching her and her alone.

Delores.

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