Orla didn’t say anything. She was too stunned. How could she have been so stupid? She’d thought she’d been so careful never photographing the whole of the church and only showing little corners of her home, but that had been enough for Luke to find her. And, if he could find her . . .
Suddenly, she grabbed her phone off him and started tapping furiously.
‘What are you doing?’ Luke asked.
‘Deleting.’
‘Your account?’
‘No, but perhaps I should.’
‘No! Don’t do that.’
Luke got up and stood over her, watching as she deleted photo after photo.
‘That seems a bit drastic.’
‘You found me, didn’t you?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘Nobody should be able to do that. I’ve been too careless.’ Orla could feel her heart pounding as she went through her photos. What had she been thinking, posting all those church pictures? And the beach ones too. She’d thought she’d been clever in her obscurity and that quirky angles and incomplete images were enough to hide behind, but it was obvious that they weren’t.
‘Orla,’ Luke whispered, sitting down next to her again. ‘It’s okay.’
‘No, it’s not. I’ve got to get rid of them.’
‘But what about all your lovely comments?’
She paused. She hadn’t thought about that. He meant from Helen, didn’t he? She wasn’t just deleting photographs, but Helen’s voice from the past.
She could feel hot tears rising now. She felt helpless. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said.
‘May I have a look at the phone?’ Luke gently held out his hand. ‘Is there a way of saving the photos and comments? We could store them somewhere else so they’re not visible to anybody but yourself.’
Orla nodded and handed him the phone. ‘I think we can do that.’
‘Okay, good. Let’s do that, then.’
‘But I’ve already deleted so many.’
‘Don’t worry about those.’
‘But Helen’s comments—’
‘It’s okay. We’ll save the other ones.’
The two of them worked together. It took some time, opening each photo and saving the images and comments to another place, but they finally managed it.
‘I’ve lost a lot of content,’ she said once they’d finished.
‘You’ll make it up again.’
‘With more care next time.’
‘Yes,’ Luke agreed. ‘If you think that’s a good idea.’
‘I do,’ she said. ‘I’m just glad it was you who found the clues and not . . . somebody else.’ She bit her tongue. She’d said too much, and she could see the questions rising in Luke’s face so she got up and turned away from him.
‘Orla?’
‘Yes?’
‘I think you’re worrying too much.’
Orla didn’t say anything, but she knew that Luke was wrong. As far as she was concerned, she hadn’t been worrying enough.
Chapter 8
The nightmare was always the same. She was walking down a long corridor, clinically white, the lights bright and harsh. Some kind of hospital. She should have been safe in a hospital, but she instinctively knew that she wasn’t. Her whole body felt cold with fear and she could feel her heart racing as she passed each open doorway. Why were they always open? Anybody could leap out of them as she passed. Or maybe that was a distraction or some kind of trick. Maybe they would come from behind her? She turned around, just in case, but there was nobody there, and so she walked on, her speed quickening until she was running. And the corridor just kept getting longer and longer, never ending, stretching, elongating, reaching out until . . .
Until she woke up.
Bolt upright in her bed, Orla took some deep breaths as she chanted to herself, I’m awake, I’m awake, I’m awake. It took a little while to convince herself and for her trembling body to catch up with her mind but, finally, she felt safe enough to leave her bed.
The nightmares were becoming rarer now, but they still had the power to shake her to her core when they struck. Swinging her legs out of bed and turning on her bedside lamp, Orla knew it would be a while before she’d be able to fall asleep again and so she pulled on a cardigan and got up. The room she’d chosen for her bedroom was one of the smallest in the castle and was painted a warm cream with a small deep-set window which looked out over the flower garden she loved so much. She’d decorated it with thick tapestry drapes in burgundy and gold with a bedspread to match. There was a single wardrobe in one corner and a Lloyd Loom chair with a big red velvet cushion, and that was it. There was no dressing table and no mirrors. It was a safe, protective space and yet, as much as she’d made it a cosy, comforting place, it couldn’t protect her from her nightmares.
Perhaps she was responding to having somebody staying with her in the castle, she thought. Maybe her subconscious was fearful even though – consciously – she wasn’t afraid of Luke. She genuinely liked him. One Ear liked him. He was the husband of her dear friend, Helen, and she truly believed that he wasn’t a threat. Yet maybe there was a part of her that didn’t trust him. That little part of her that kept her hidden from the world because she was fearful of being hurt again.
Padding quietly through the castle corridors towards the kitchen, she determined to make the most of being up at so ungodly an hour and have a cup of herbal tea. Something warm and soothing to chase every last remnant of the nightmare away.
She was just about to turn the light on in the great hall when she became aware of a presence. There was a change in the air around her and she instinctively knew that somebody else was there. At first, she stood paralysed. When she’d moved into the castle, she’d been terrified of the long dark corridors at night and had wondered if she’d made a huge mistake in moving there, but she’d gradually got used to the place and she knew her security was tight. Still, the thought of somebody breaking in was one she dreaded.
Of course, it could have been Luke but, if he’d got up, wouldn’t he have turned the lights on? Possibly not. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to disturb her or maybe he had excellent night vision.
‘Luke?’ she called into the darkness as she entered the great hall. Surely he wouldn’t be up in the middle of the night. ‘Luke – is that you?’
One Ear was immediately out of his basket at the sound of his mistress’s voice, and Orla took comfort from having the animal by her side. If he wasn’t growling, then perhaps the threat she felt was imaginary. She switched the light on.
And there he was. He’d been sitting there in the dark. His eyes were open, but he didn’t seem to see her as she walked into the room.
‘Luke?’ she whispered. ‘Luke!’ She reached out towards him, but then something occurred to her. Maybe he was sleepwalking. You weren’t meant to wake sleepwalkers, were you? She didn’t know if that was a myth or not, but she thought she’d try something else because she really didn’t want to distress the poor man, and so she gently took hold of his arm and encouraged him to stand.
‘That’s it. Nice and slowly. We’re going to get you back to bed,’ she told him as she guided him out of the room. One Ear walked behind them, taking this new phenomenon in his stride as Orla became anxious that Luke might actually wake up, and then what would she do? Would he be angry or upset or just embarrassed at being caught in his T-shirt and boxer shorts? But she needn’t have worried because they made it back to the bedroom. Indeed, Luke seemed to know where he was going now and got himself into bed.