But now I also can’t sleep because there’s a noise outside. I didn’t think much of it at first, just passed it off as a seagull, maybe even a mouse. It was a sharp rap– the sound of something hard hitting glass.
A beak, maybe?
Tap.
Whatever it is, it’s persistent.
Tap.
Tap.
‘For God’s sake,’ I mutter, flinging back the covers and pulling on a T-shirt before I pad over to the window. I open the curtains a crack, but there’s nothing on the window ledge, no flapping of a bird leaving in a hurry.
I frown and open the curtains fully so I can look for the culprit. That’s when I see something move in the yard below. It has the vague outline of a person and it sends a cold shiver racing down my spine. I grab my glasses from their spot on the bedside table and slip them on– I’ve taken my contacts out for the night– and when I step back to the window and look down, I burst out laughing and haul my window open.
‘Florence!’ I call down. ‘What the hell are you doing in my yard?’
She stands back, staring up at me with her hands firmly on her hips. She’s more undone than I’ve seen her before, cocooned in a long wool coat with her hair twisted up into a loose bun. Tartan pyjama bottoms peek out from the bottom of her coat, the cuffs gathering on top of her trainers. I don’t know why the idea of a vampire in trainers amuses me, but I can’t wipe the smile off my face.
‘I’m throwing pebbles at your window,’ she says, opening her left hand to show me the ones she hasn’t thrown yet.
‘I can see that.’ My smile grows even wider. ‘But why?’
I just about see her brow furrow in the dim light. ‘Because I don’t have your number,’ she says after a moment, like that explains everything. Only, I remember?—
‘You called me the other day.’
Her frown deepens. ‘That was a work call. It would be unethical for me to take your number from our records without your permission.’
This probably says something about me but I’ve noticed she has this side to her, a buttoned-up, by-the-book side, and I think I’m especially attracted to her when she’s like this. Not to mention that it makes it that much more satisfying when she softens. WhenImake her soften.
I try and fail not to think about all the other ways I might make her soften, then I clear my throat before I quip, ‘If you want my number, babe, just ask.’
Her lips curl in disgust. ‘Never call me babe again.’
That makes me laugh out loud. ‘Noted,’ I say, pushing my glasses back up my nose. I watch her eyes track the movement. ‘I’m saying you have my permission. I’ll give you it.’
She nods, no less stern. ‘I really would feel better if you did.’
There’s a flutter inside my chest then, followed by a dull thump. That’s been happening a lot lately. It feels like my heart forgets to beat for a moment before panicking and throwing in an extra strong one to make up for it.
It’s either that or Florence literally makes my heart skip a beat.
‘So,’ I say, clearing my throat. ‘The pebbles.’
‘Yes.’ She shrugs, unrepentant. ‘I needed to get your attention. This is what we did in the days before mobile phones.’
I sometimes forget how old she is, like my brain still can’t quite believe it’s possible that she’s pushing two hundred. She doesn’t look a day over twenty-five.
‘How did you even know this was my bedroom?’
She laughs lightly and the sound is so soft that I see it rather than hear it. ‘Educated guess.’ One of her hands gestures to the adjoining building. ‘I delivered three babies in that building. Twelve in the one behind me. The building the bar is in is older than I am, but this bit is new.’ She motions to the wall in front of her. ‘So I took a chance.’
Something erupts in my chest at her words, at the idea that she came looking for me. That shefoundme. I don’t even know what it is that she wants, but I’m as giddy as a kid on a fairground ride.
‘Why are you here?’ I ask, ignoring the voice I’m not supposed to trust. The voice that saysshe’s here for you.
She shuffles, moving her weight from foot to foot. ‘I want to show you something.’