Alex Gray - Sleep like the dead

Her chest hurt and she could hear the footsteps behind her, pounding along in a purposeful rhythm.

She could tell without looking around that her pursuer meant her harm. If she didn't escape, she knew she would be killed.

With one almighty effort, Marianne lunged forward towards the light then felt herself falling, falling, falling through space.

'No!' She sat up, heart thumping.

It had been a dream, only a dream.

Turning, she looked at the illuminated digits on the clock by her bedside. Almost three, the dead hour.

Marianne forced herself to take a few deep breaths. The chill night air crept across her skin making her shiver. With one movement she stripped off her nightdress, rolling the sweat-sodden garment into a ball and hurling it away from her. What did it mean? tier dreams had always been imbued with some meaning before, hadn't they? Some people were visionaries, their dreams prophetic of things to come. Doctor Brightman had told her as much in his lectures, hadn't he? She frowned, unable to recall everything that the psychologist had said. Maybe she had read that somewhere instead? That other dream was past now, the terror gone for good. But this? What was this dream trying to tell her?

Marianne threw back the damp covers and scrabbled in the darkness for her clothes. She had to get out of here, she thought, the rising panic making her breathless.

That figure in the street last night, had he been following her?

Just like Ken used to. She shivered suddenly, the memory of his shadowy footsteps, his obscene whispers as he walked behind her vivid in her mind.

And these wrong numbers on the telephone. Wasn't that proof that something bad was happening? They were coming for her, that was the significance of this latest dream, surely?

It was not until she had drawn the bedroom curtains against the night that she dared switch on the lamp beside her bed. No one must know that she had gone until she was well away. Nor must anyone know where she was going. She gave a rueful smile. Even she didn't know where that would be, yet. Silently the woman dressed, aware of every creak as her feet hit the wooden floor.

Everything seemed unnaturally loud at this early hour, as if the room was holding its breath, listening.

She reached under the bed and drew out a well-worn suitcase then stood up to open the single wardrobe that contained most of her clothes.

The first coathanger clanged against the metal rail, making her jump. It was imperative that she made as little noise as possible. The other tenants in this service flat might be light sleepers. She didn't know if that was the case but every nerve in her body cautioned her to take the utmost care. Slowly she drew her clothes off the hangers, folding them into the case with an expertise born of much practice. Soon the wardrobe was empty and she turned her attention to the chest of drawers. Ken had trained her well, demanding that she be fastidious in her habits so all of her other garments were already folded neatly and it was a matter of seconds to place them in the suitcase.

Marianne looked frantically around the room. What else must she take? Books, of course, and her laptop. And toilet stuff. She tiptoed into the adjacent bathroom, picking items off shelves and cramming them into a plastic carrier bag. They would go into the rucksack along with the books.

In less than an hour she was ready. Her hand was still trembling as she tapped out a number on her mobile phone.

'Taxi, please,' she said, her mind already focussing on her destination.

She gave the driver the name of a hotel. It was in a busy part of the city, close to a railway station with an ever present line of taxis, convenient for the next step in her escape. It would do for a few nights until she could find another place to stay, somewhere near the university, she hoped, though by this time in the summer lots of student accommodation would already be taken.

Once or twice the driver tried to engage her in conversation but she remained silent, head turned towards the window, watching as the city drew closer. Blue lights in the trees shimmered, caught like stars in a web of foliage as they drove through the night. Her head turned from one side to the other as they entered an underpass, its shape outlined in dazzling purple. Glasgow at night was a myriad of colours, the city fathers having brought brightness into the inky dark. Marianne smiled, thinking of the different bridges that spanned the river. At this time of night a traveller might see lines of red, blue and violet reflected across the water's surface.

The journey from the West End into the heart of the city took only minutes. But in that short time Marianne had regained some of the calm that had deserted her. The woman who alighted from the cab straightened her back, head held high as she took a deep breath of night air.

'Okay, miss?' the driver asked and she turned, seeing him take her bags and lead the way into the foyer of the hotel. She gave him a handful of silver, noticing the gap toothed grin as he made a mental count of her generous tip.

'Have a good night, miss,' he said, nodding at her. Marianne pretended not to see the expression of curiosity that flicked across the taxi driver's face. What was a woman doing out at this time of night and checking into a hotel? Instead, she walked towards the reception desk to another man whose eyes were already full of questions.

Amit drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on a point ahead, wondering if he could be bothered to find another parking space. By the time he returned his own space might well be taken, legally or otherwise. It was a fairly short walk from his own place to the curving terrace that bordered the river Kelvin. As he considered his options, the sun emerged from behind a cloud into a stretch of blue. He unbuckled the seat belt, letting it fall back against the leather seat. He would walk there, he decided, getting out of the Mercedes and pointing the key towards it. The big car gave a blink and a click as though in acknowledgement as Amit strode along the pavement in the direction of Byres Road.

This was the very heartland of student life: streets full of Victorian flats that criss-crossed all the way from Great Western Road, sweeping past many of the university buildings then bisecting Byres Road until they marched in an upward curve to meet Great Western Road once again. Amit's present home was two floors up in a tenement flat above a delicatessen. The Mercedes he kept parked around the corner in a space designated for residents only.

Despite the fact that the new term was still a month away, the place was teeming with young people. Amit watched them as he walked along; girls with long hair in earnest conversation with a group of young men or giggling in a huddle with their pals. With a pang Amit realised that he had never known such careless freedom.

His own youth had been hedged about with rules, both from his family and also by the state, university life a matter of serious studying and only the occasional social engagement.

He left a group of youngsters laughing in his wake, wondering if they realised just how privileged they were. Probably not, he told himself. But there was no bitterness in the thought, it was merely one of the many observations Amit allowed himself as he continued along the road.

Marianne would be expecting to resume her studies soon, he told himself. A frown crossed his dark brow. Was there really any way he could make that happen? Or was her time at university coming to an abrupt end? Biting his lip, Amit walked more hurriedly until he reached the end of the road. A large church building dominated the corner, sprawling between the junction of the two main roads. Amit looked up as he waited to cross towards the botanic gardens. It was no longer a place of worship and was now known as Oran Mor. He had been inside once, climbing the staircase that was decorated in colourful murals that had somehow reminded him of many of the places in Lahore. A restaurant and a pub took up some of the building but it was possibly best known for its basement theatre. A group of young men and women lounged outside on the steps clutching bottles of beer. Amit glanced at them. Seeing the confidence on their faces reminded him of what he was about to take away from Marianne and he experienced a moment of sadness that it had to end like this.