Kittens, she thought frantically. Little fluffy ones! Sunny days! Chocolate ice cream! Beaches!
Even as she was still trying to compile it, the list seemed so ridiculous she choked on a laugh, tears trickling down her cheeks.
As it had before, the trick worked. Gradually the walls began to return to their real locations and her racing heartbeat steadied.
But the experience left her shaken.
‘It was just a dream,’ she said aloud, clutching a pillow tight to her chest like a shield. ‘Just a dream.’
The darkness felt oppressive and she flipped on the desk lamp, reaching for her alarm clock. It was half past four in the morning.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she leaned back against the cold wall, shoving strands of her hair out of her face.
Today she started her garden detention – three days a week she was to work from six in the morning until eight in the walled garden. There was still another hour before she needed to get up but she didn’t want to go back to sleep – she could feel the dream around her, coiled like a snake, waiting to strike should she doze.
Instead, she took a long hot shower then, back in her room, rooted through her dresser for her warmest clothes, choosing as many layers as she could stack – thermal underwear, exercise trousers and two pullovers under her heaviest jumper. When she was ready it was still too early, so she worked on her English essay until six.
The school was eerily silent at this hour; even the staff were nowhere to be seen as she made her way down the stairs. The creak of the back door as it opened echoed in the quiet like a scream.
Outside, it might as well have been midnight – not a glimmer of light showed on the horizon aside from the faint light of stars. The grass was covered in a thick frost that crunched beneath the rubber soles of her shoes as she headed across the back lawn.
God it was cold. It was so cold that breathing made her nose ache and her forehead seemed to tighten around her brain.
Shoving her gloved hands into her pockets, she tried to burrow deeper into her coat.
Gardening in February, she complained to herself. Do people actually do this? On purpose?
Denuded of leaves, the trees lining the footpath behind the school formed a gloomy, skeletal canopy above her. Lowering her eyes, she quickened her pace.
To her left she could just make out a ghostly white domed roof of the marble folly through the trees. Ahead of her, the footpath disappeared in the dark.
Uneasy, Allie broke into a gentle jog.
She didn’t want to admit she was afraid. She told herself she needed to warm up her muscles so they’d ache less when she started working. But tension turned her stomach sour.
When she reached a long, tall wall made of heavy squares of aged grey stone she allowed herself to relax a little. The garden was inside it. Turning left, she followed it to a sturdy wooden gate. Normally it was kept locked but today the combination lock hung open and the gate stood slightly ajar.
At the sight of it, a tingle of unease ran down Allie’s spine. Her mind flashed back to Jo, expertly spinning the little dials on the lock. The gate was never left unlocked.
Someone must have left it open for me, she reasoned. It’s not like I’m not expected. How else would I get in?
Still, as she stepped through she moved with caution, lowering her centre of gravity, her muscles tense.
The walled garden was vast – in the summer it produced enough vegetables and fruit to feed the entire school, but at this time of year it looked bare and dead. And as far as she could tell it was deserted.
‘Hello?’ she called, standing on her toes to peer into the darkness. ‘Mr Ellison?’
Her voice sank into the cold earth.
Someone should be here to meet her. It’s not like going out to the garden in the middle of the night was her idea, after all.
This was starting to piss her off.
It must be well after six now. But here she was, alone in the dark, wandering aimlessly.
‘This is so freaking stupid,’ Allie muttered to herself as she pushed through a tangle of dry branches. ‘I might as well have a sign on my back that says, “Please attack me, Nathaniel”.’ A thorn she couldn’t see tugged at her sleeve and she yanked her arm free. ‘“I’m alone and vulnerable in the dark. Swoop in now and take me back to your hellhole of global domination.” And why didn’t I bring a bloody torch?’
At that moment, a sharp cracking sound rang in the air. She whirled towards the noise but could see nothing in the darkness.
Maybe I just heard myself step on something¸ she thought hopefully. And it echoed.
But a nerve fluttered in her cheek, betraying her tension.
‘Hello?’ Her voice sounded uncertain and she cleared her throat. ‘Is anyone there?’
Nobody answered.
Allie stopped talking. Maybe it wasn’t great to be advertising her location.
After a long moment of heavy silence she heard it again – the sharp crack of a branch snapping.
And she hadn’t moved.
Allie’s training kicked in – her heart pounding, she dropped down into a low crouch, muffling a grunt as her battered knee protested. Staying very still, she listened.
Snap.
There it is again.
Someone was definitely there – no animal could make that noise. But, whoever it was, they seemed to be at the far end of the garden, although it was hard to tell where precisely – the sound echoed off the encircling walls.
She stayed low, hidden by darkness and dry brush, thinking through her options. She felt strangely calm. Maybe it was the lingering effect of her panic attack earlier – her adrenaline failed to kick in.