The Glass Room (Vera Stanhope 5)

over the rim of the mug. He looked like a boy who’d woken from a nightmare, still confused and unsure what was real.
    ‘You made yourself something to eat,’ she said.
    He nodded again. ‘An omelette. Fried potatoes. Broccoli.’
    ‘Then you went up to your room to use the computer.’
    He didn’t seem surprised or upset that she could guess his movements. ‘I was just going to check my Facebook. I knew I wouldn’t be long. I thought I could do the washing up afterwards.’
    ‘What happened then?’ She kept her voice gentle. She didn’t want to scare him or stop the flow of the story.
    ‘I heard a noise outside.’
    ‘A car?’ How else would an intruder get here? She tried to remember if she’d passed a vehicle in the lane. Certainly there’d been nothing coming the other way up the track.
    ‘No,’ Alex said. ‘Footsteps.’
    ‘And you could hear those over the noise of the wind?’
    ‘They were on the gravel path just under my window. And we don’t have double-glazing in the cottage.’
    She nodded to show that she believed him and to encourage him to continue talking.
    ‘But by the time I got up to look outside, there was nobody there. I thought I’d imagined it. It’s easy to get spooked all by myself in this place.’
    ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Anybody would be. I shouldn’t have let you stay here on your own.’
    They sat for a minute in silence. She wiped the milk from around her mouth with the back of her hand.
    ‘Where was the cat?’ she asked. ‘Was it in the kitchen while you were eating? Cats seem to know when there’s food about, don’t they?’
    ‘She wanted to go out,’ he said. ‘I opened the door for her to go into the garden. She hated the bad weather and I thought she’d be scratching to come back in straight away, but she didn’t. I went upstairs and thought I’d shout her in as soon as I came back down.’
    ‘I’m sorry I interrupted you.’ Vera sat back and waited for the rest of the story.
    ‘I was still at the window,’ he said. ‘I’d looked out and there was nobody there. Then a light came on in the chapel.’
    ‘My God! You must have been petrified!’
    ‘I was going to bolt all the doors and call the police,’ he said. ‘That was the first plan.’ She thought he was beginning to recover from the shock. He uncurled his legs, seemed almost embarrassed by his previous outburst. Sat upright. Set the half-drunk mug of chocolate on the table with something like disdain. Too cool for chocolate too.
    ‘That would have been a sensible plan.’
    ‘But I couldn’t do it,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t sit here. Some sitting duck. Helpless, waiting for the killer to come.’
    Vera thought he’d seen too many horror movies. Or he could tell a good story.
    He looked at her with something of the old competence. This was the man who had greeted her on her first visit to the Writers’ House. ‘I had to do something.’
    ‘So you went into the chapel?’ she said.
    ‘Outside the storm was so wild I could hardly think. It was brilliant actually. Liberating. It reminded me of when I was a boy and used to swim in the sea. Nothing but the noise of the surf. For a while I stopped being scared. After all, what did it matter?’
    ‘So you went into the chapel?’ she asked again. She preferred the quiet, scared Alex to the manic one.
    ‘Yes.’
    She thought she would have to prompt him, but he continued almost immediately. ‘There was nobody there. The light was still on. Then I saw Ophelia.’ He looked up at her and gave a quick smile. ‘That was what we called the cat. Mother’s idea.’ He paused for a beat. ‘I couldn’t take it in. I couldn’t believe anyone would do that. Like it was a sacrifice. And then there was the robin on the table.’
    ‘What did you do then?’ Vera had finished her drink. It was obvious that Alex didn’t want his. She wondered if he’d notice if she took it.
    ‘I couldn’t stay there. I went outside. Screaming. Something like: Where are you? Come out! I ran round the house to the terrace, in case he was there.’
    ‘It was dark,’ Vera said. ‘How could you see?’
    ‘I’ve lived here since I was nine. I could find my way round with my eyes closed. Literally.’
    ‘And then?’
    ‘I stood for a moment on the terrace. Letting the wind blow against me. Listening to the sea. I wondered . . .’
    ‘What did you wonder?’ She took his mug and finished the drink. Enjoyed it immensely. More than she had her