There was nothing. Nothing more to look forward to, no sight no sound no feeling… No, that’s not true. There was feeling but it hurt, it hurt like nothing had ever hurt before and it was tearing great chunks out of Catherine’s young heart. Her throat sore from sobbing, and a great aching void deep within her heart Catherine didn’t even have the strength to wipe her tears away, allowing them to glide down puffy cheeks, swollen eyes overwhelmed with a flood impossible to contain gushing over eyelids and running in crystal rivulets onto the pillow beneath her head. Catherine felt not the sodden pillow or her hair wet by tears and plastered to her face. In fact being able to hide beneath its sullen curtain suited Catherine. It created the dark shield that she needed at that moment to shut herself away from well meaning people that continued to bother her, cooing their sorrow asking if she was alright. What did they expect that she’d be jumping for joy? Of course, she wasn’t alright! She didn’t think she would be alright ever again. Fresh tears galloped behind those past and came out in great choking sobs that threatened to snatch her breath and kill her. Catherine didn’t care. At that moment if she died too, it wouldn’t matter. She’d give anything, anything to go where her mother had gone, even if that meant leaving her father alone.

With that thought in mind, Catherine wondered just where her mother was at that very moment. She found it hard to imagine since it had never been something she had reason to ponder before. Her grandparents had died before she was born and never before had she encountered a death in the family that gave her cause to speculate on life after death. It was abhorrent to her that her mother might be living where she could no longer see her, or touch her or feel her mother’s arms around her or tucking her into bed at night and singing her favourite lullaby. It were those things, the simple taken for granted things that Catherine would miss the most, as well as the love, love unbounded, a mother’s love for her only child.

Fresh tears fell and Catherine panted for breath and wondered if she might ever feel warm again. The room was heated but her skin felt cold and clammy and she ached to have her mother’s arms around her so much, to lay her head against her mother’s breast and know what it was to be loved.

Hearing the sound of the door cracking open Catherine remained motionless. If one more person asked how she was, she would scream. Poised for action she therefore relaxed when firm arms gathered her up from the bed and held her tightly against the roughened texture of a stiff new jacket, black in colour, scented with her father’s favoured aftershave.

“Honey, let it go, let it all go. I’m here, I’m here.” The soothing words crumpled her further and she clung to her father feeling the loss of her mother even more in his arms. He was all she had left now. The only solid thing in her world providing two walls where there had once been four, two walls so easily capable of falling down and leaving her totally unprotected and alone. “Don’t leave me Daddy.” Catherine sobbed.

“Never honey, don’t worry, I will never leave you.”

“That’s what mommy said.” She sobbed.

“And mommy meant it. Cathy honey, mommy will always love you, and she’ll always be with you and…” his words trailed away as his daughter cried, “but I won’t see her daddy, will I? I’ll never see her again will I?”

It was the hardest thing he had to do, but Charles knew he had to tell her the truth, “No. Not in the way that you mean. But she lives on in you and me, Cathy, we will never forget her and we still have each other. I love you darling.”

“I love you too daddy, but what happens when you have to go away?”

“I’ll take you with me.” Charles knew that could pose some problems especially when he was interviewing clients or in meetings, but he couldn’t do anything else now. To leave Catherine with someone now would be awful. She couldn’t undergo something like that, not so soon after her mother had died and his heart constricted at that thought. It was hard enough even for him accepting that his lovely wife had died. He didn’t think he would ever get over the loss, thank God for their daughter, at least in her he could find some comfort.

“But what about school?” Charles hadn’t thought of that. Sometimes he’d be gone for a week, not that one week mattered, but when he went often Catherine would miss a lot of schooling.

“Would you stay with Peter?” He ventured to ask.

“Peter? Our doctor?”

“Yes, that Peter. He’s known you since you were born. And you like Peter don’t you?”

Despite her grief, Catherine forced a smile, “Yes daddy, I like Peter. Do you really think he’d let me stay?”

“Oh yes most definitely, probably give him something to do.” Charles chuckled, he knew how Peter enjoyed Catherine’s company especially over the chess board, a game he had picked up from somewhere only recently and challenged everyone that visited to play a round with him. Charles had never beaten him yet for whomsoever had taught him had taught him well.

“Then I’ll stay with Peter. Is he still here? Will you ask him now?” Catherine pulled out of her father’s arms and gazing into his eyes waited anxiously for his reply.

“Yes he’s still here. Shall I send him in?” Catherine found a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and she let it go until it brightened her sullen features into a full fledged grin, “Are you asking me to ask him, daddy?” She teased.

“Oooh transparent aren’t I? Yes, honey, how will he ever refuse you? He might make up some excuses if I ask him, not that he wouldn’t want to look after you, no not that at all, its just well you know Peter, he likes his space. Sometimes I wonder if I actually know him at all. It’s like for all the years we have been friends there are still some aspects of Peter that are a closely guarded secret. Hey maybe you’ll find out what that is!” He laughed, as did Catherine. She knew what her father referred to. Sometimes when Peter said he’d be home he was out but he said he was in which made them exceedingly suspicious and decide he had a girlfriend that he kept locked away at his house which was ridiculous but funny to presume nonetheless.

“Okay Cathy, I’ll send him in, want to go and wash up first?”

Catherine nodded, if Peter saw her face now he’d be all over her, thermometer in her mouth before she could say Jack Flash, stethoscope to her chest, his hand on her brow, concerned as only the family doctor and their friend as Peter could be.

“Give me five minutes.” Catherine told her father as he made for the door and she for the on-suite bathroom, “And don’t tell him I’ve been crying, okay?”

Charles hesitated at her words, “Just so long as you don’t withhold them when he’s gone. Its good to cry Cathy, tears are healing, don’t bottle it up okay, you’re mother wouldn’t have expected you to be strong.”

“Just so long as you don’t do too then.” Catherine replied knowingly. She knew her father was trying to be strong for her sake, but she would have preferred that they sobbed together, that way they could draw comfort from one another.

“I promise.” He brushed away an errant tear. “What say tonight we’ll get out all the photographs, pour over them and remember all the happy times?”

“I’d like that, thanks daddy.”

Drawing a deep breath Charles smiled, they’d be in for a traumatic evening, but both would come through it because they had each other, they just had to be strong and hopefully Peter in whatever capacity he deemed necessary would help out, friend or doctor they’d need both in the coming weeks and months ahead. Charles missed Caroline so much it was like something was eating its way through his heart and rendering it impossible to keep on beating. But for his daughter he would resolutely force such feelings away. Thank God they had each other.

Stepping from the room Charles watched his daughter go into the bathroom then checking his watch he made his way through the crowd of friends and colleagues searching for a glimpse of Peter.

“Hi honey, can I come in?” Peter popped his head around the door and with a smile directed it at the young slip of a girl sitting upon the bed watching the door, “Were you expecting me?”

Forcing a smile Catherine nodded, “I have something I want to ask you.”

“Anything honey, you know you can ask me anything. What’s the problem?” Closing the door firmly behind him Peter walked across to the bed and sat down on its side twisting his body so that he might face her. There taking up one of her small hands in his he waited knowing whatever she wanted to ask would come in its own time in her own words.

“Peter, when daddy has to go away on business can I stay with you?”

“Honey of course…” His sudden acceptance trailed away, “How long for?” He asked as he thought of something.

“For as long as he has to be away. It might be a week, but he doesn’t have to go away anytime soon, will it be okay then?” Catherine was unsure, there had been something in Peter’s tone. That secret again she supposed.

“Honey, you can stay with me for as long as you wish, only there might be a time or two when I will be called out, but my housekeeper will be there so you’ll never be alone.”

“That’s okay.” Catherine told him brightly while inside she was thinking, mm housekeeper that’s interesting, is she Peter’s mystery friend?

“That’s settled then. Anytime your father has to go away on business, you can come stay at my house. You will still have to go to school though, no wagging, promise?”

Catherine laughed, “I promise, thank you Peter.” The bright smile that crossed her face at her reply slowly faded as she remembered once again what had rendered her time off school at that moment and a sob caught in her throat, “I miss her Peter.” She cried throwing herself into his arms. Peter didn’t need to ask whom, he knew how close mother and daughter had been, like two peas in a pod.

“There now honey, just cry, let it go, let it go.” He hugged her tightly allowing the tears to fall and soak his jacket without a care in the world, and Catherine found healing for her soul. Peter was different, he truly cared, not like those that had wandered in and out all day with their words of consolation and their advice on ‘don’t cry, dry you’re tears everything will be alright.’ How hollow such advice was. Had they never lost a loved one to death?

Briefly, Catherine wondered if her father and Peter were the only ones of a kind, she had yet to meet anyone that understood how she felt not only in grief but with everything. In everything, both had been there for her over the years, they and her mother. She had been cosseted and loved and wrapped in candy tuft where it was soft and safe and warm and she wanted never to leave that beautiful place.

Her father found them there when he popped his head around the door some half hour later. With Catherine in his arms, Peter supported her as her tears flowed, offering tender words of comfort and love and Charles’ heart went out to the scene he’d interrupted. Drawing the door to a close he let them be, knowing his daughter was in safe hands with his good friend Peter, and Charles thanked God for him too. Friends like Peter were few and cherished, hard to imagine that there could ever be others like him, but Charles supposed there were people like that out there somewhere, only he was yet to find them. People like Peter and Caroline were ones in a million and he had been lucky enough to find them. Maybe, hopefully in time his lovely daughter might find someone of her own someone that would compliment her as Caroline had complemented him. Charles hoped so, for his daughter was a wonderful kind-hearted soul that would blossom with someone as caring as Caroline had been to him and love like he and her mother had shared came only once in a lifetime. There and then, Charles prayed that his lovely daughter would find such a love and he prayed for it with all of his heart.

In the weeks, months and years that went by Catherine spent many happy hours at Peter’s house. Some of those times were invariably sad whenever she thought about her reason for staying there, and the loss of her mother never completely subsided. Such a loss was never really eradicated in anyone. But in the main, Catherine learned to remember the good and happy times spent with her mother and because of it, her relationship with her father was enriched.

He in turn tried to spend less time away and more with his daughter never losing sight of the fact that but for Peter and his timeless patience, Catherine had become even more of a compassionate soul than the one she was before. And it didn’t surprise him when she announced that rather than follow in his footsteps and be an attorney she did in fact want to be a doctor instead.

Of course, at thirteen, Charles knew that his daughter had plenty of time to change her mind yet again. And he could only hope that by the time she graduated from school and chose her subjects for university she would again want to take over his company in law, but he in no way tried to persuade her from doing anything she had made up her mind to do. If she still wanted to be a doctor by then well so be it. Part of him greatly believed that a woman’s role in the working world was limited anyway. The time would come when she would leave off to be a wife and a mother and then any career would go by the board so nothing mattered. Still he would like to have had her work with him if only for a while, it might lead to the only way that she would meet and marry a lawyer, then he’d have a son in law to take over the reins of his business when Catherine had to stay at home to look after the children. He might even have grandchildren that would follow in his footsteps. Daydreaming wouldn’t get him anywhere though, Catherine would do whatever her heart told her was best for her, he knew that…still there’d be no harm in keeping his fingers crossed Charles reasoned, no harm at all.

BANG!

Startled, Catherine looked up from her studies and gazed at the open doorway leading into the study. ‘Whatever was that sound?’ she asked herself straining her ears to listen. It seemed to have come from down the hallway or more importantly from the basement to where Peter had gone.

Listening intently, Catherine reached absentmindedly for the cup of hot chocolate that Peter had brought to her on his way downstairs and she grimaced when she realised that must have been longer than she had assumed since the chocolate was now stone cold. That in mind, Catherine’s heart raced, what if that bang had been something falling on Peter? Worse still, what if that bang had been Peter signalling for help long after something had fallen on him?

Pushing back her chair, Catherine rose and exited the small cream and green room, with its light oak furniture decorated so to provide a relaxing atmosphere to would be scholars. Hesitantly, she hovered at the doorway wondering if she should really go down to the ‘off limits’ basement to see if Peter was well. She knew how he liked to go there to select certain files and in fact, some of the basement had been turned over to a laboratory. That last thought seized Catherine by the throat, what if…oh no…what if that bang had been something exploding into Peter’s face? What if he had been mixing chemicals and had added a bit too much of something. This thought made her quicken her pace and she hurried to the basement door reaching the knob and turning it just as it turned the opposite way from the inside. Stepping back, Catherine encountered Peter coming out and she gasped with relief, dismay and fright all at once.

“Catherine?” Peter queried. She could tell by his tone that he was not pleased to see her there.

“Peter, are you alright? Only I heard a noise, I thought…” Her words trailed away by the look in his eyes.

“I’m fine!” He actually snapped at her and Catherine felt hot tears prick at the back of her eyelids.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t prying, honest. I thought you were injured. I thought something had fallen on to you or something had exploded. Peter, please believe me!” She shrieked the last.

His face softened and he apologised, “I’m sorry honey, forgive me. Only you know the basement is off limits to you. There are some very confidential files down there. Of this whole household, cleaners, housekeeper you, and any other personnel that has to come in from time to time, only I have the key to the basement.” And as if to prove that point he inserted the key from his hand into the lock, turned it and checking the door was secure, replaced the key into his pocket.

“Well at least you’re alright.” Catherine murmured suddenly intrigued. Something about Peter’s countenance told her that whatever was down in that basement had more to do with some ‘secret’ rather than old files and chemicals but she let it be. It was his business and his house after all. Then she giggled and couldn’t help asking, ‘is there a monster down there, Peter?” she’d intended it as some kind of Frankenstein joke but he really blew his top, and Catherine was stunned.

“What do you know?” Taking her by the shoulders he shook her hard, “Cathy, what do you know!” He demanded.

“Know?” Catherine’s teeth rattled, “What is there to know? Peter, it was only a joke.” She whimpered, “You know Frankenstein and basements and all that.” She mastered a grin.

Again, Peter’s face softened as dawning became apparent, “Forgive me, I’m sorry, but well I thought you had been down there…seen something…you know?” He spoke apologetically.

Catherine shook her head, “No, and how could I? You carry the only key.” She reminded him.

“Yes, of course, you’re right. But promise me Cathy, that you’ll go nowhere near the basement, ever. Do I make that clear?”

“Perfectly, sorry Peter.”

“That’s okay. Now would you like another cup of hot chocolate? I’m going to make one, it’s a long way back and I’m thirsty.” He told her absentmindedly.

“A long way back?” Catherine giggled, “Why how deep is that basement anyway?”

“I beg your pardon?” His eyes were once again alert and guarded.

“You said it was a long way back and you were thirsty, I just wondered…” Catherine’s words trailed away, she wished they could get off of this subject it was beginning to make her nervous.

He fumbled for a decent answer, “Oh nothing, sorry. I mean the stairs are steep, nothing more, sometimes it feels as though I have to travel miles to get back up here.” He grinned and averted his gaze giving Catherine the distinct impression that he was lying. She ignored it and replied instead, “Hot chocolate would be wonderful. I never drank the last one you left because…” She was about to finish that she had been too engrossed in her homework to realise the passage of time but he snatched up on her words immediately with suspicious intent. “Were you listening at the basement door!” He barked.

“No, Peter! No, I was doing my homework. You know that!”

“I assumed that you were, whatever you were doing on the other side of the door where I couldn’t see you, is another thing. You know honey, I think it might be better if your father found you somewhere else to stay in his absence.” Peter told her sternly. He was clearly suspicious of her.

Tears gathered and fell from Catherine’s eyes, “But I wasn’t doing anything wrong! Look, come and see how much studying I got done while you were gone. I even let the chocolate go cold because I was so engrossed, Peter believe me!”

Again, maybe for the third time in a few minutes Peter’s face softened, and he apologised profusely. “I must be tired, and there are some problems on my mind, you know work stuff, forgive me honey. Forget what I said about going elsewhere, of course you can stay here.”

“You’re sure?” Catherine asked timidly she didn’t want to be anywhere she wasn’t wanted.

“I’m sure. Now how about that hot chocolate? And we’ll forget all about this little incident huh?”

Catherine nodded, Peter thought it was in agreement with all that he had asked, but only Catherine knew different. She might be agreeing to the hot chocolate but in no way would she forget ‘this little incident’ as he so called it. For something was amiss down there in the basement, Catherine was sure of it, and if Peter’s demeanour had been anything to go by he was up to something, and she shuddered. For despite how ridiculous it may be the thought of Frankenstein’s monster simply would not be dispelled from her mind.

Seasons went by, and the ‘little incident’ was never mentioned again, though there were times when on her approach to the study Catherine’s eyes were averted to the basement door just ahead of her and she would wonder about the ‘monster’ all over again. This was one of the reasons why she asked Peter if she might be permitted to study in the room she slept in while with him, unable to suggest it before because she knew his rules about refreshments in the bedrooms. Thus, she was surprised when he agreed without preamble. “What if I want a drink while I’m there?” She asked just to be sure.

“If you use a tray and keep crumbs to a plate it should be alright. And if there are any little mishaps well you know how to use a vacuum cleaner don’t you?” He had grinned, before adding, “So long as you don’t take burger and fries up there, a sandwich and a beverage should be fine.” Catherine couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was exceedingly happy that she had suggested using the bedroom to study, nor the fact that the reason behind it was so obvious. Way up in her bedroom she was as far away from the basement door as she could possibly get, leaving him free to come and go down there as often as he pleased without her ever being aware of it. And so up in that room with its sunny corner, Catherine set up her own little library and beneath the window would do her homework, looking up from time to time on the outside world as she sought for some answer or another set by her tutors.

Life was reasonably good, and at almost fifteen, she was perhaps, old enough to begin staying at her own home when her father was away on business. She never truly felt alone in that house. Memories of her mother kept her company. That was the difference to being at Peter’s where the room she slept in was void of such happy times and at school certain celebrations wouldn’t be so dramatic if she could stay at home on the eve or nights of such celebrations. Thanksgiving, Christmas among many, times when memories were particularly nostalgic and Mother’s day. The time when all the other kids at school would be talking about what they had bought their mothers. Such times, pulled on Catherine’s heartstrings and she was glad when her father’s trips out of town never coincided with these days. For then she could go up to her own room and feel her mother surround her as if she really was there. Yet there had to come a day when no such luck afforded her this sanctuary, when her father simply had to be away on business the very same day as every other kid was giving presents to their mother, and in turn was lavished with hugs and kisses for the gift of remembrance as much as the gift itself.
So trailing her way toward Peter’s house, books clasped to her chest Catherine ambled miserably along, wishing for anything that might transport her to her father’s house where she might curl up in her mother’s favourite rocking chair and dream her own particular brand of happy dreams. She’d stayed at school as long as she’d dared that day. Hoping that in so doing she might avoid the time she would have to spend in Peter’s house, able to mix with her tutors a while longer, able to put off the thought that it was Mother’s day and she had no mother to give anything to. That hurt, that really hurt and so she stayed at the school until the caretaker brought round the keys and ushered her out of the building. And so it was late when she arrived at Peter’s house, not that he wasn’t expecting her, but in the lull of her late arrival had presumed that her father had stayed in town after all and she had been able to go home. So that when Catherine arrived at Peter’s house and let herself in, Peter was nowhere to be seen and Catherine went straight up to her room to get changed out of her uniform and into her comfy jeans and sweatshirt.

She studied, emptying her mind of all she had learned that day onto paper, and eventually satisfied that her homework was done Catherine set off for the kitchen to make herself something to eat. Peter wasn’t there either, and the dining room was empty even though the kitchen afforded her with the truth that he had not prepared any meal for himself that evening. Briefly, she wondered where he was and if he would be long, and whether or not she should prepare something for him. And then she wondered if she could go to her own home, since she might as well be alone there with memories of her mother than alone at Peter’s house without them.

It was as the ping, of the microwave alerted her that her bowl of soup was ready that she made her decision, it was growing dark outside and as much as she’d like to leave for home, she would stay where she was. Peter would be home eventually, he was probably out on an emergency call and he would fret to find her gone when he arrived home.

Her soup and toast digested, Catherine stacked the dirty crockery into the dishwasher and switching off the kitchen light as she exited the room, she stopped outside in the hallway and pondered on her next move. Never one to pry Catherine was thus surprised when her first thought flew to that ‘little incident’ of months ago regarding the basement and before she had time to tell herself she shouldn’t she found her feet taking her in that direction. Along the way she kidded herself that she was going to the study, that she needed some books, that she needed a pen, some paper, an envelope, anything rather than accept that she was being plain nosy. And as she reached the study door she did in fact hesitate, her nerves getting the better of her and she went inside to sit at the desk in the cream and green room with its light oak décor looking about her as if she hadn’t realised what she had missed these last few months. It was indeed a spectacular room and gave off a relaxed air the moment she sat upon the firm leather chair behind the desk.

‘I’ll stay here.’ She told herself aloud, trying to convince herself that was what she had intended all along. Pulling some paper towards her and a pen Catherine began to daydream and doodle and it wasn’t until her eyes really focused on her drawing and she saw Frankenstein’s monster in front of her did she sit up startled knowing it had never been completely far from her mind. That accepted she swivelled the leather chair round to face the door, still ajar as she had left it and with eyes of X ray vision imagined what was beyond the door, down the passageway and inside the basement. She imaged many steps leading down, steep steps into a gloomy, dank and smelly basement. One light bulb swinging from a draught coming from somewhere outside, a bench whereupon lay some figure disjointed and weird, wired with all kinds of electrodes and Peter bent over some scalpel poised and wielding his own form of medical magic over the creation beneath his hand. Clapping a hand to her mouth Catherine stifled a shriek of laughter and berated herself on her stupid daydreams, followed by a fit of giggles as to what her Biology tutor might say if he knew what she was thinking.

She could picture him now; “I hold up Miss Chandler’s assignment, everyone, take note please. We see before us the blueprint of Miss Chandler’s ‘monster’ I have to ask…” he turned to face Catherine, ‘”Did you get the idea from Miss. Smythe?” Everyone burst into laughter and the tutor added, “Excuse me, forget I said that and if anyone should tell her I shall deny it okay?” He heard their chorus of agreement and disagreement. Though some thinking that the said Miss Smythe, the school’s head and oldest spinster and probably the oldest virgin ever to have walked the earth was indeed a good model for Catherine’s monster.
Catherine giggled and wondering if she might get a good grade for her creation looked with her mind’s eye again toward the basement, wanting to know what was down there while shrugging to realise that she doubted she ever would. No doubt that’s where Peter was now, no doubt he was doing whatever Peter did while down there, then she giggled again, maybe he kept his stash down there. Maybe he had narcotics and wine stashed away, maybe he was a junkie?
Laughing out loud Catherine shrieked when the telephone at her elbow sounded and startled her to death. She snatched it up as much to shut out the shrill tone as to answer it, ‘hello?’ she asked into the mouthpiece.

“Cathy? You are there. Its Peter.”

“Peter, where are you?” Catherine asked feeling invisible fingers crawl across her skin. She was alone after all, alone in Peter’s big house with that ‘monster’ in the basement. She wanted to slam down the receiver and ran screaming from the house.

“At the surgery.” He wasn’t but he couldn’t really say he was standing at a phone booth in Central Park having just left the tunnels by way of another route as he saw one of the residents to a waiting ambulance, could he?

“How long will you be?” Catherine asked nervously one eye on the study door, knowing the basement door was only feet away.

“Soon, I’ll be there soon. Are you in your room?” He knew she couldn’t be, there wasn’t a telephone in there. In fact, there were only two in the house, one in the kitchen and an extension in the study. Suddenly he was suspicious, the phone hadn’t rung many seconds before she picked it up, so wherever she had been in the house she had to have been in either of those two rooms. But why would she be in the study? It was months since she’d been down there.

“No.” Catherine’s mind was racing, what could she tell him? Where were the phones in his house? How many extensions were there, she remembered there was one in the kitchen but that was all, other than this one in the study of course.

“Have you eaten?” Peter asked hoping to glean her whereabouts from her answer.

“Yes, I had some soup and toast. I wondered if I ought to put anything on for you, a casserole perhaps?” she grimaced and hoped he wouldn’t agree, she had never made a casserole in her life. In fact cooking was probably her worst subject at school. Fortunately Peter knew this, “No don’t worry I’ll make something when I get there. I’m not very hungry as it happens, I ate out earlier.” It seemed improper to ask her again which room she was in, but Peter had to know. “Are you in the study?”

Catherine panicked, her voice too shrill she lied, “No, I’m, I’m in the kitchen. I was fetching myself a drink, some hot chocolate…where do you buy this stuff Peter, its delicious.” She hoped to pacify him. She didn’t. Two things Peter knew, speaking to his housekeeper from his surgery to his kitchen, certain sounds would echo back to him. The whirl of the storage heaters, the hum of the refrigerator beside the phone, both of these were absent and more importantly, the most important of all at that moment, the fact that he had used the last of the hot chocolate only that morning and had discarded the empty jar to the bin. Catherine was in the study…he was certain of it!

“I’ll be there in about ten minutes Cathy, don’t open the door.” After her lie she presumed he meant the door leading out to the street, but he had in fact meant the door to the basement and hoped that if she could realise he had seen through her façade she would know exactly what he was referring to.

“Okay Peter I won’t. I’m going up to my bedroom anyway. Think I’ll have an early night, I’ve to sit an exam in the morning.” She heard the relief in his voice with his reply, “Okay Cathy, pleasant dreams.” He disconnected the call.

Standing there, the receiver in her hand by her ear, Catherine listened to the whirling sound left behind until a recorded message told her that the call was ended and she put the receiver back onto its cradle. And she’d fully intended to do as she had told Peter to go up to her room and get an early night and she would have done too, if it hadn’t been for one fact as she left the study.

BANG!

Down there in the basement, she was sure of it, something had moved, or exploded or woken from a deep sleep, and Catherine bolted for her bedroom and remained hidden in a wardrobe shaking violently with fear and dread. She remained there until she heard Peter come in some half hour later and call out and only then, did she leave the wardrobe and crawl beneath the blankets of her bed.

To be continued.

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