UMA

I toughed it before the others but the first few nights back from the holiday, I had hardly slept a wink. I know a lot of it was probably my fertile imagination (bet you never realised I had one of those, did you?) but there were still a lot of noises in the night that I never remembered hearing before. This is an old building and I know there are always unidentified creaks and bumps as well as the wind crying through the eaves and the water in the pipes rumbling and sometimes tapping like footsteps. I am used to those noises, really I am. I have never ever felt scared alone in the pub before.

But the last few nights I have.

First there was that damned tomcat outside the window which was shrieking fit to burst. I looked out a couple of times but there was no sign of him; the bugger disappeared whenever I leaned out. That stopped me from settling and then I began to hear the noises. Footsteps. Definitely footsteps. A heavy tread like that of a man down stairs on the polished wooden floors - up and down, pacing. It was regular so I began to think it might be an airlock in the pipes. No one walks up and down, up and down like that.

Unless they are a ghost, of course. 

The noise stopped. I settled down. Then I heard it again. But this time it was different. It wasn't like footsteps, so much as dance steps. There was a rhythm but it was more syncopated than walking. I sat up and listened. And counted. One to three and...tap, tap, tap tap tap....one two three...and....tap tap tap tap tap...one to three and....what rhythm was that? I danced around the bed a moment and then I realized. Tango. It was tango rhythm! It sounded as if someone was dancing the tango down below in the pub.

Ghosts don't dance the Tango. They might sort of float about or do ballet like in Coppelia but they definitely do not Tango. So what next? Someone has broken in to dance the Tango? Hardly. Unless they are mental. One of the guys playing a trick on me after all the talk of ghosts? Surely not. That would not be in the least funny and personally I couldn't think of any of them who would do such a thing to me. Even Terry would never frighten me.

I was still contemplating that when the 'dancing' stopped. The walking started again. This time though it was not pacing. It was approaching. Steady, slow, ponderous footsteps crossing the bar, up the stairs - I could even hear the dodgy treads that squeaked- and along the corridor in the direction of my room. There was no faltering or hesitation. This 'thing' knew where I was.

My heart raced, pounding so loud I thought that it was as audible as the footfalls themselves. I couldn't breathe. Pulling the sheets up around me, I just froze as they came nearer and nearer and nearer until they were right outside my door. I thought my heart would fail as I waited for the inevitable movement on the handle and the opening of the door to reveal what terrible fate was in store for me.

But nothing. Absolutely nothing. Total silence, deeper and darker than is usual in any night. A silence as frightening as noise because it seemed as if even the building itself had paused from drawing a breath and all the nights sounds inside and out had ceased and were waiting for what was to come.

I couldn't stand it anymore. I flew from the bed and yanked the door open, ready to meet the horrible apparition rather than wait for it to pounce. Flinging the door wide I screamed "Who is it?" My voice was shrill, on the edge of tears, cracking almost. But there was nothing there. Again there was no sign of any presence. The corridor was in darkness but quite clearly empty. I could hear again the ticking of the grandfather clock in the pub below and the drip of a tap somewhere. A car screeched its brakes somewhere outside and a dog barked.

I swallowed deep and stood there transfixed while my erratic breathing began to fall back to something near normal although my pulse was still racing far faster than it should have been. I felt weak with fear and was angry with myself for being that way. There was nothing there. I must be imagining things after what Ann said. But...this wasn't really what Ann had described. This was different...but if it was different then it couldn't be the same thing. That means this is just my head playing tricks.

Closing the door and locking it this time, I turned to go back to bed and then I heard it. My blood ran ice cold. A rapid and strident angry knocking was hammering on my bedroom door as if someone outside was infuriated and trying to wake me up. Seconds ago I had been standing in that open doorway and there had been no one there! How could anyone get there so quickly? Without a sound? Unless...

Unless some THING had been there all the time, just outside the door and I had not been able to see it. Something invisible watching me? I sobbed and jumped into bed and picked up the telephone. There was a dialing tone.

I rang Jeff. No one picked up either at his place or his cell.

I rang Zack. Phone switched off and no answer at home. Had he left with someone?

I rang Jack Corbett. No answer.

I rang every single guy that I believed to be on his own tonight. I mean - I couldn't really disturb someone with his girl and ask him to come over and sleep with me, could I? Even Down the pub they are not that tolerant.

Finally I rang Terry. He answered on the second ring. "Terry?"

"What?"

"Terry?"

"Yeah...you got the name right. Uma...WHAT?"

"I'm scared."

There was a pause. I realised that, despite his picking up quickly, he had probably been asleep. He did sound a bit husky voiced. That made me feel all sort of fuzzy inside. I got this picture of him sitting up in a pile of sheets, hair all messy, needing a shave, wearing a black singlet...which I am sure he does not wear in bed, but in my fantasy he does...

"Scared of what?" he suddenly asked.

"Ghosts," I whispered, already feeling foolish.

"GHOSTS?"

"Well, something. Noisy. Keeps walking about. Dancing. Knocking on the door..."

"What? Is this some kind of wind up? I'm really not in the mood for it, Uma..."

"NO! Would I ring you at this time in the night to play a trick on you...?"

"Yes, you would," he replied smartly. He was right. I'd done it before. Sending a taxi to his place at three in the morning, that kind of thing...

"Well, I'm really scared," I whimpered. "I mean, really scared and I can't sleep and I think there's someone here..."

"Get dressed and drive over here..."

"WHAT?"

"If there is someone there - which I doubt seeing as you have an alarm system worthy of the British Museum and have had everything checked out only a few days ago. Either Ann's story's playing on your mind, you've dreamed it or you are trying to set me up. So my advice is get dressed, get the hell out, drive over here and you can have my spare room. Keep your phone on and in your pocket until you are safe out. I'll be on the other end..."

I suppose this is the moment my Mum would have reminded of the Boy Who Cried Wolf story.  It was the sort of thing she often said to me as a child. I was one of those annoying little girls who was always pretending something had happened, getting everyone upset and then laughing my socks off when they found out I had been joking. And then one day I would be in trouble and no one would believe me. My Mum used to love it when I got caught out. Her everlasting hope is that I give birth to ten children. And they are all like me. There would be no better reward for what she suffered.

"You are so mean...: I whined. "If it was anyone else you would trip over your feet to get here and rescue them..."

"Exactly. If it was anyone else. Not an annoying woman who spends her life trying to get one over on me. That is the difference. Now get a move on. I want some sleep tonight."

That was it. I could not shake the man. So I got up, slung on jeans and a T-shirt, threw on a denim jacket and some slip ons and ran through the place like a hound of hell was on my tail. Probably was. Racing for the back door, my bag and keys in my hand, I dragged open the door, re-set the alarm and locked it behind me. My car was alone in the car park, looking all forlorn. Fumbling with the remote I got it open, jumped in and locked all the doors before starting the engine and sitting there trembling until I felt steady enough to drive.

One last look up at the pub and then I saw it. Him. Whatever. At MY BEDROOM WINDOW staring down at me. A body. There was someone there, all shrouded in darkness. As I stared in abject horror and the hairs rose on the back of my neck, the apparition moved. It waved its hand at me. With a scream I started the engine and drove at speed over to Terry's apartment block.

He was his usual charming self. He opened the door pretty quickly and I bowled in, almost knocking him over. "Hey...careful. Whoah..." he caught me in his hands. "Hey you're white as a sheet! Are you really scared?"

"Yes!" I insisted. "I need a drink!" I ran over to the bar and helped myself to a brandy. Throwing it back, I poured another one and sipped that. Terry stood observing me. He was wearing jeans and a T shirt that looked as though they were hastily donned. I idly wondered if he had been sleeping naked.

"OK. Here's your room. Go to bed and we'll talk in the morning," He opened a door, showed me a typically designer savvy room that looked like no one had ever slept in it before. "Bathroom's adjoining. You'll find a toothbrush there." And yawning and scratching his chest LIKE A MAN, he said goodnight, switched off the lights and disappeared into his own room. Charming.

I slipped out of my clothes and then noticed the rugby shirt folded nicely on the end of the bed, the set of towels and the bottle of mineral water and glass by the bed. I smiled to myself. He really is quite perfect.

Do not tell anyone I said that!

I slept soundly and almost as soon as my head touched the pillow. Well, almost. I did lie there a little while and imagine him just a wall away, lying naked in his sheets fast asleep. But instead of arousing me the image just made me feel safe. My body un-tensed and I felt myself slipping into blissful sleep...

"Rise and shine, wakey wakey..." I awoke to Terry's dulcet tones and the bright glare of sunlight as he drew the curtains.  He was carrying a tray with some steaming coffee and croissants and when I had sat up and rearranged the Rugby shirt that was rather on the large size for me, he sat down and rested the tray of food down on the bed. "Breakfast."

I smiled and helped myself, realising again how Terry just makes things happen so smoothly and without fuss. He doesn't need anyone or anything. He must be the most competent and together man I've ever met.

"That's so sweet of you. After all the trouble I caused you..."

"Trouble? How could you cause me any trouble?" he grinned. "Now, let's have a chat. You were in a real state last night. Tell me what you think happened." I looked at him. He was wearing the jeans of the night before but looked like he had just stepped out of the shower, all shaved and brushed, smelling of aftershave. His crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows completed the image of sharp man; I felt crumpled and untidy.

Terry gave me a look and for a moment I thought he had read my mind. "You look better than I ever did in that." He indicated the shirt of his I was wearing. "The rugby shirt. What is about women in a rugger shirt?" He faked a shiver as if he could barely stand the temptation. I giggled. "So...last night?"

I told him what I had heard and seen and he listened carefully, frowning occasionally. "That's nothing like what Ann described really. Apart from a few general similarities..."

"I know. I also know that ghosts don't change their plan of attack. They simply repeat actions over and over - if you believe the reports. But, Terry, I saw someone. At the window. Waving at me!"

He breathed deeply. "At night shadows can play tricks. You know that. Especially on already anxious minds. Uma, I'm not making little of this but if there had been anyone there, you wouldn't have been able to get out. Either it was a thief or a man stalking you - and yet you saw no sign of that. Do you really honestly think this ghost story holds water? I mean, you've lived there for ages and never heard anything before..."

"I know! I keep telling myself all those things but....Terry, I heard it....I really, really heard it!"

He thought for a moment. "Where's Heather?"

"You know. The usual. They've both gone to ground. In his place, I suppose..."

He didn't say anything but his face looked kindly and concerned. He put out his hand and stroked my cheek. "Get up and have a shower. You'll feel better when you've freshened up. We'll go back together and open up and I'll hang around for a while. Until the place fills up, that is. In the meantime, you need to call Heather and get her back tonight. Get him to shift his arse and stay there for the next few days. You need a man in that place more regularly. I thought there usually was..." he rolled his eyes at me and I swatted his arm as I climbed out of bed. For all his cool, I noticed him checking out my legs.

Flouncing to the bathroom, I turned and shot him a look from the door. He grinned but made no moves to follow me, merely collecting up the tray and carrying it towards the door. I watched him go and decided that I had just been silly. In the light of day the whole thing seemed completely ridiculous but I was glad that he hadn't laughed - or let me draw him into my panic. He had been right to treat me as he had - paternalistically but firm and not pander to my whims and fancies. He always knows just how to deal with me.

So the day passed normally and everything was fine. Nothing in the pub had been disturbed - my nighttime anxiety attack just seemed more and more crazy. I called Heather and she said they would come straight back. They had been away somewhere quiet for a few days but would drive back and should be there by evening. Everything was sorted.

The pub was quiet that night as most of them had gone to a hockey match arranged by John; just a few popped in and a bit of passing trade. After the game the gang piled back for last orders and it livened up for a while as the atmosphere of the game was carried over. The mood was a bit high and I did have to call for the cavalry when Hando and Terry had a difference of opinion in the Men's room. Not sure why Terry was on such a short fuse; it isn't like him to lose his cool. No harm done anyway apart from a few bruises and a bit of blood spilt. You know men. They glower for a while and then forget about it. The women were rather longer getting over it but the couples were soon ready for a bit of quiet time together after all the excitement  and, one by one, the lovers slipped off. As it neared the end of the session, I began to wish Heather would get back soon before the place was empty.

Then the phone rang.

"Uma? It's me. I am so sorry! We've had a breakdown. This finely tuned engine! It's having to be towed and we won't be back until morning. It's one of those things - the onboard computer system that guides everything has just gone nuts. Give me a plain old banger any day over these hi-tech boy toys..."

"So...what will you do?"

"Just checking into a hotel near where we broke down. I'm sorry, girl, you know I wouldn't do this to you..."

"It's not your fault. I understand. See you tomorrow, sweetie." I hung up and put my head in my hands. The fear was coming back and I struggled to get the better of it. They'd be back tomorrow. It was just one night and there was nothing to worry about really...

"I'll get off then, love..." Terry leaned over the bar, still rubbing his sore ear, although the bleeding had stopped. He was just saying good night. "That Heather? They on their way?"

He must have guessed from the pinched look on my face. "What's up?" I told him. He nodded.

"Want me to stay? I'll take one of the guestrooms. No worries..."

I think I whimpered my relief. He locked up and we went upstairs; I showed him to his room, we said a friendly goodnight and then I went to mine. I walked to the window to draw the curtains and the memory of the ghostly apparition standing in that very same spot looking down and taunting me struck me like a cold hand. And then I saw it. Down in the carpark. Leaning on the hood of my car, the shadow of a man staring back at me.

That was it.

I ran to Terry's room and banged on the door. "Terry! Can I come in?"

Without waiting for a reply, I charged in. He was sitting down on an armchair reading a book from the book shelf. He looked up as I ran in. "Quick! There is someone there!"

I rushed back to my room with Terry following me. At the window, he slunk back into the shadows and peered out but I knew before he saw it. The man had gone. The car park was empty apart from our two cars parked side by side.

"Nothing there, love," he observed.

"I know. But there was a moment ago. Or do you think I am making this up?" That remark did not receive an answer. He shrugged and began to walk to the door. "Terry...would you sleep here tonight?"

"Here?" he replied tartly. "In your bed?" He looked over to the large bed that dwarfs the room and then looked back at me. "What is this about, Uma? Are you sure this isn't one of your protracted games?" he looked stern, pursing his lips as if he had just sucked on a lemon. I wasn't sure why my request had annoyed him so much.

"Yes. Why are you making it sound like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I was after your body or something."

He just gave me a disapproving look and flexed his neck, thrusting his chin out in that way he has when you know he is going to be stubborn about something.

"What side of the bed do you want?" he asked coolly. 

I picked up the handful of Thai silk scatter cushions and began laying them down the centre of the bed. "I don't care which side. As long as you don't cross over these."

"What is that suppose to be?"

"The dividing line. You on one side and me on the other."

At that Terry snorted and reached over shunting them along the pillow. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm bigger than you. I need more than half of the bed."

"What?" I shouted. "It's my bed!"

"I didn't ask to be in it. You want me here then you better make it worth my while. I want a good night's sleep."

"But...but...I'll hardly have any room then!"

He looked around the room. "Well, you could curl up on that couch. There isn't much of you..."

I opened my mouth to retort but I realized that it would do no good whatsoever. Picking up my pyjamas and a wrap, I flounced off to the bathroom aware that he was probably laughing at me behind my back. Slamming the door, I got ready for bed and brushed my teeth cursing my luck that I had to sleep with the only man on earth that I most definitely didn't want to. No, that sounds like I would sleep with anyone, doesn't it? I mean the man on earth that I most didn't want to sleep with - there are of course, a few others on that list.

I opened the door and walked back into my room to find him bare-chested, just lowering his trousers. I glared at him. "Terry!" He carried on removing his pants, sitting back on the bed.

"What?"

"You're almost exposing yourself in front of me!" I complained. 

He looked down. "I've got my shorts on. What do you want me to do? Sleep in my pants?"

He stood up and walked around, folding his clothes up. He didn't look very happy. "Well, you could have worn a different pair..." I nagged.

Terry stood with his hands on his hips facing me. "What is wrong with my underwear? Can I remind you that I did not expect to be sharing the same bed as you tonight? Had I known I would have dug out some Kevlar body armour."

I tried my best. Honest I did. But he was just standing there, bold as you please,  hands resting lightly on his hips in this pair of snug white cotton body-hugging briefs, the kind that look like Lycra running shorts. They make any man look like he is carrying a load but a man like Terry? There was so much strain on the front panel that the waistband sagged. I kept trying to rip my eyes from them but there was a fatal fascination that kept drawing them back. I was trying to work out where it all was arranged. I mean where did he begin and end? Was it really lying slightly to the left spanning such a wide area? Oh my God, he must be enormous when it is down....or up....

"Have you finished in the bathroom?" He snapped. I jumped back to attention. 

"Yeah... I left a new brush out for you. And put the seat up. And down when you've finished..."

He gave me a look but didn't rise to my bait. I watched him stride into the bathroom. His back view was almost as riveting as his front.

By the time he emerged, I was in bed, the lamp was on and I was reading. He walked out, crossed the room and pulled back the covers to slip in next to me. He hit the pillow a few times and then rolled over. I went on reading.

"Are you going to keep that light on all night?" he barked suddenly. I tutted, slammed shut my book and flipped it off, before wriggling down in the bed and turning my back. "Good night!" I said rather brusquely.

"What is this, the Waltons?" he muttered before settling down. Within in moments I heard his breathing regulate and realised he was already asleep. How do men do that? In a strange bed with an even stranger woman and he just closes his eyes and goes to sleep? But they all do it.

I lay there a while listening to his soft snoring and wondering whether the ghost might have been quite so annoying. Of course, no sooner did I think 'ghost' than I heard it. The steps again. Down in the bar, pacing just like the previous night. Back and forth, those heavy treads. I imagined them crossing the length of the room and then turning before starting all over again.

"Terry?" I hissed, digging him in the ribs. He woke with a grunt. "Terry, listen...the footsteps..."

He rolled over and looked at me as if I were completely insane. "What footsteps?" He was right. There wasn't a sound from downstairs. It was as quiet as the grave. Or perhaps that is not a wise analogy.

"But there were footsteps just then! I heard them! If you hadn't been snoring so loud..."

"How did you hear it then? Seeing as I was making such a racket? Go to sleep. There's nothing there. It's your imagination..." he settled down again.

I grunted my annoyance and flopped back on the pillow. I will never get to sleep what with him and his snoring and the bloody dancing ghost....

There was a sudden scratching at the door. It was very quiet but it sounded like a cat trying to push open a door. I do not have a cat. Apart from the over-sexed and under-fucked tom who is always whining in the backyard, and God knows who he belongs to. I sat up and switched the light on.

"You must have heard that!" I cried out. Terry groaned and rolled on his back.

"Heard - WHAT?"

"The cat at the bedroom door."

"You don't have a cat!" he said between gritted teeth..."

"EXACTLY!"

Dragging himself out of bed, he loped over to the door. I watched the thick muscles of his back rippling under the skin as he wrenched open the door. "Here, kitty, kitty," he said in a mocking voice. Of course, Kitty Kitty was nowhere to be seen.

Terry indicated the empty hallway, closed the door gently and them walked back to the bed. Sitting down on it he faced me and took my hand. "You are in a real state. I think you need to take a sleeping pill to get off. I'm here, so nothing can happen. But you are overwrought and imagining things and probably exhausted. Which makes it worse. You got anything?"

I whimpered and nodded, scrabbling around in my bedside drawer for some antihistamine that I keep for the odd occasions when my mind is overactive and I can't get off. He poured me a glass of water and watched me take one. "Good girl. Now snuggle down and let it do its work." He reached over me and flipped off the light. For a rather breathtaking moment I had the experience of his magnificent chest over my face and the enticing bulge of his genitals just brushing my hand as he stretched. I shivered and he thought it was my fear not my libido.

"I'll watch you till you go to sleep. Here, hold my hand. That's real. The noises are not." Hold his hand? I thought I would faint. But I didn't surprisingly. I just felt safe and warm with his large hand round my small cold one. The effect of the tablet was kicking in and I felt woozy and sleepy and....

TERRY

I have to say I was dubious about this from the start. I know that probably sounds rather cold-blooded of me but you must understand the nature of the relationship I share with Uma. Let me re-phrase that. The relationship that I do not share with Uma. We don't get on very well and I have no idea why that is. Usually I have no problems with women. I like them. Very much. I respect them and enjoy their company for all the things they are that I am not. But that woman just winds me up from start to finish.

I can't analyse what the problem is. She is smart and witty and, well, pretty attractive. OK - drop dead gorgeous. Right. I said it. She is a good looking woman. In many ways she is exactly what I go for. And sometimes we have a laugh. And then she winds me up. Yeah, sometimes I wind her up. I just love to see her angry and plotting revenge. And does she know how to set a bloke up. Gets me every time. What a girl!

However, she makes me want to strangle her. I just can't work her out. That is something I find hard to take. I mean, it's my bloody job to read people. But this lady is off the scale of normal responses. I find myself rising to her bait where with anyone else I would be cool and composed. I find myself behaving towards her in a way I wouldn't dream of doing to another woman. Dino has a theory. I am not going to enlarge on it. He's wrong anyway. He can talk. Lover boy.

I pulled that stunt with the photographs on the holiday and have been waiting for her comeback ever since. But she kept me waiting. Maybe she'd run out of ideas? No worries...one would strike her eventually. So we get back and Ann is all worked up about some odd noises at the pub while we had been away. Got it all checked out and it seemed to be fine.

Then she calls me. 

My radar immediately warned me. This was a scam. She had listened to Ann and seen her chance. Terry was not falling. So Terry called her bluff. She came over and stayed the night.

The problem was she looked genuinely scared. Her face was pale and pinched and her hands were trembling. That is not Uma. But she is a bloody little actress when she wants to be - a real drama queen. I still held out. Even though she looked so damned glad to see me and showed a clingy side to her I've never seen before. It felt pretty good to have her depending on me. The first bloke she turns to when she is feeling worried...no. I am not falling for it. She would have called her favourite hero Maximus or got Jeff her best mate to stay over or inveigled one of her adoring young men, Jack C, Johnny or Dom to do the honours...there is no way she would have come to me first.

So I dumped her in the guest room and went to bed.

But I'm still a gentleman. Next morning I brought her breakfast and had a word with her. She looked bloody gorgeous in that rugby shirt with her hair all messed up and those big eyes looking up at me. She's got these great legs - they are so fucking long and skinny and smooth....I noticed them when she got out of bed. No big deal - I'm a healthy bloke. Anyway, she was grateful and I began to wonder again if this had really spooked her. Maybe I was being unfair. She was a woman alone trying to run a business and tough it out. Independent and plucky. But still a woman. Vulnerable at times. Perhaps there was a stalker. She's the kind of woman a man could get a fixation about. Well, I would imagine so.

So I took her back and spent most of the day hanging round the pub. Went out to the game in the evening but although I had a good time, I was preoccupied. Trying to work it all out.  Feeling a bit hard on her. Worried that she was playing me.

That's when I got embroiled in that dust up with Hando. Some of the girls were upset about some of his 'terms of endearments'. I thought "This is something I can handle. Go in and have a few stern words with him. Bastard starting making these smart-arsed comments about me making advances on him in the john. Jesus, it was pathetic, but I was on a short fuse. Just blew. Rammed him against the tiles and the fucker bit me. I saw red. White pulled me off and then...well, you know the rest. I made a fool of myself. Reckon somewhere along the line that was Uma's machinations, too. See, how she has me twisting in the wind?

I was about to leave when she played her ace card. Would I stay the night? That was the start of the performance. It began with her dragging me out of a guest room to sleep with her. That's when I knew she was on the make. I knew what came next. We would go to bed and she would 'accidentally' roll against me and her hands would 'accidentally' touch me and her legs would 'accidentally' wrap round me...next she would cry foul and there I would be with a giant hard on and her giving me the sharp edge of her tongue.

Not on my dick unfortunately.

So I played it tough, flaunted myself a bit but kept out of her way. She seemed surprisingly passive. I went to sleep.

Next minute she was nudging me. More unexplained noises, apparitions, whatever. I checked things out and frankly didn't know how to play it. She was trembling and weepy and if this was acting then she deserved a fucking Oscar. So I got her to take a pill and get off to sleep. She was quite sweet then. Like a little girl afraid of the dark. Held my hand and curled up; she even stuck her thumb in her mouth as she went off.  She's such a pretty little thing...

That's why I was here. In Uma's bed. Wide awake and watching her sleep.

When I knew she was settled, I disengaged my hand and rolled over. Time for sleep. I was just dropping off when I heard it.

Outside. A voice. Calling something. "Coo-ee" or something trite and mundane like that. But it was underneath the window, close by. This was starting to get silly. She'd gone a bit too far. I reckoned I knew what was going on. It was Jeff. The Coo-ee gave him away. Reckon he would be up for a lark like this. So I ignored it. Pulled the sheet up and refused to rise to his bait. There were a few more calls of "Terry!" and "Hey, mate, you there?" But he wasn't having me.

The pranks stopped and I felt myself going under again. Then I heard the footsteps coming upstairs. So he was giving up and going to bed? Good. The noise stopped outside the bedroom door. The dirty bugger was listening. Did he think me and Uma would be....I ought to go and open the door and give him a black eye. The idea appealed. I could imagine him kneeling down squinting through the key hole.

Silently I climbed out of bed true commando style (I mean not without my skivs) and I crept over to the door. With a sudden jerk I pulled it open, more than sure that he would tumble in. The corridor was empty. Nobody about.

"Very funny, Jeff, but I'm hardly one to fall for your ninja tricks. Get to bed or you'll find an apparition of my fist in your jaw..." I called out, still convinced that he was hiding behind a door somewhere. But I was not going to look like someone who actually cared.

Back in bed, Uma rolled over and snuggled up to me. She felt soft and womanly. I didn't push her away. She couldn't help it in her drugged state. She must have thought it was some bloke she actually fancied. I curled around her and played with a strand of her hair, feeling suddenly tired...

Someone banged on the door. The bedroom door. Loud strident banging, like some irate father looking for the boy who had got his daughter up the spout. It was so loud that I couldn't believe Uma slept through it.

My reaction? I leapt up and crossed that room faster than I have ever moved before. I would have done the 100 metres in way below 9 secs. Flinging the door back I got ready to take Mitchell apart. The hammering was still going on as I touched the handle.

Silence. Deserted hallway. No one about.

Jesus Christ.

Mitchell couldn't have done it.

I scratched at my hair trying to make sense of it all. There had to be an explanation. There is always a rational explanation. 

I just couldn't think of one. I had bloody heard it. That was impossible.

I searched the whole place. There wasn't a sign of anyone being there. No one could have hidden from me - shit, I'm trained in this sort of action. I ended up down in the bar and helped myself to a Scotch.

That's when I heard the dancing feet. Up above me someone was tap dancing or some thing very like it. Christ. Uma. Dead asleep and some fucking lunatic upstairs?

I raced up those stairs my heart thudding. If anything happened to her when I was there...

But it was silent as the grave. Uma was sleeping peacefully with a beatific smile on her face. Her hair was spread out along the pillow and her lips were slightly parted. As if she had just been kissed.

Fuck.

On the pillow where I had been sleeping

A rose. A red rose. Single stemmed and with the thorns removed.

Attached was a note. "A rose without a Thorne..."

Fuck.

What the fuck was this?

Needless to say I didn't sleep all night. I sat in the armchair and watched her and waited with a knife to hand. Nothing else happened. 

Morning came and she stirred, rolling over and purring softly. Then she jumped up. "Terry?"

"I'm here." I called from the chair.

"What you doing there?" she asked sitting up groggily.

"Thinking."

"Oh." She replied. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah. Everything's fine.

There was no way I was going to tell her about this. She would freak if she knew. I had pocketed the rose in my jacket and would stay until Heather and Casanova made their reappearance. Tip him off and get him to keep an eye out. Any more nights like that and I was getting this place exorcised.

I know I don't believe in it. But you tell me what else could have caused it? The jury is still out, mate. But one thing is for sure. If she set that up then she is world class.

But somehow I know this time she didn't.