The Witching Hour Killer

FIFTEEN - ALANA

Monday, 15th November, AM

Noah's cries echoed through the baby monitor and they jolted me awake. I didn't even recall falling asleep on the sofa in the first place, however I didn't recall falling asleep at lot since Noah was born.

I made my way up the stairs and towards the nursery. Scooping my baby up and bringing him close to my chest, his cries fell to small whimpers as I rearranged to free one of my breasts.
Silence fell once again as Noah began to feed, causing a long exhale to pull out of my lungs in relief.

The first day without Thomas around was proving more difficult than I anticipated. He was the perfect father; always doing everything to make my life that little bit easier, even if that meant he had to change double the amount of nappies that I did. He did it with zero complaint, despite the dark circles around his eyes when we'd be woken up at 3am to a screaming Noah.

Thomas was my rock, and without him I was struggling.

I glanced at the clock in the nursery and saw that it was only 11am. It felt like at least 4pm, but then again I had been asleep for the past couple of hours.
The following weeks immediately after giving birth, you lose all concept of time. The only thing you understand is when it is night and when it is day, and even then you can't be fully sure. That's one thing they leave out of all the baby books and forums. Bastards.

Noah stopped his feed and pulled back from my chest, grizzling slightly. I now knew this meant that he needed winding quickly. I was fully in tune with my son's needs. I knew which cry meant that he was hungry, and which one indicated a full nappy. I even knew which facial expression meant "Mummy, I need to burp, fart, or both immediately.", so I began patting his back gently until he relieved the pressure. However, this time he threw a curve ball my way and ended up spitting up all down my back.

Thanks, Sweetheart. How very kind of you.

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Monday, 15th November, PM

I needed to get out of the house.

The same rooms, the same smells, the same air. It was beginning to drive me crazy. Before I could stop myself, I was stuffing my feet into my wellies and setting up Noah's pram ready for a crisp winter's walk.
I glanced at the dog lead hung on the back of the door and then to Rolo who was looking at me with large, excited eyes.

What if he runs off? What if he jumps on Noah and the pram?

I furrowed my brow and looked at Rolo again. He had been so good since Noah came along. He was our baby once, too. I couldn't just leave him out.

"Come on silly boy." I pulled the lead from the hook and began to fasten the harness to Rolo, who had now burst into his usual hysterical walkies dance.

Noah, Rolo and I were out of the door without a hitch and making our way towards the Heath. Noah's deep blue eyes were opened wide, taking in the world around him as I attempted to entertain him by pulling as many silly faces as I could. Clearly, he was more interested in the trees and the birds than in me being a total lunatic.

The Heath was quiet and calm when we arrived. A thin layer of mist covered the top of the hill, causing the air to bite at my cheeks. I checked the pram to ensure that the blankets were still in place and continued to push it in the direction of the park.
Rolo was already off the lead the second we arrived and was busy running around and being his carefree self, clearly not at all bothered by the cold temperature.