The Arms of Morpheus

Chapter 7

Two days later.

'It's good to be home, Mel.' Noel placed his arm around his fiancé as they nestled beneath the duvet of the king sized bed.

In the days that followed the funeral, he had felt trapped between feelings of grief and extreme anxiety; grieving for someone whilst fearing for his own life. The effort had left him in a state of mental disarray.

He was reluctant to discuss what he had observed at the theatre with Amelia, what he had observed every time he had looked in the mirror since. It was the actual telling her that daunted him most. To look in her eyes and explain his concerns, his fears as to what could happen next and how it could all end. It was a prospect he dreaded.

Morning was breaking through a small gap in the curtains, a chink of light signaling the start of a new day. A new start - maybe this was an omen - come clean, tell her everything. He loved her and he knew she loved him, so what was the problem?

The problem was he was scared. No. Terrified.

Looking at the semi-conscious face of his fiancee, he made a pivotal decision. He would tell her.

Later.

                                                                                         ***

Fresh coffee and buttered toast helped Noel to focus. It had been over an hour since he and Amelia had reluctantly left the warm sanctity of their bed, fully aware that they had to pick Blake up from her godmother's house before noon.

Noel looked at the roman numerals on the wall clock. Just before eleven. Time was of the essence, this was not a conversation he could have in front of his young daughter. She had a way of understanding adult conversations - especially when the news was bad.

Still indecisive, his reticence was appeased by Amelia's line of conversation.

'Baby, you look tired. A bit detached. I know it's been tough for you, emotionally and physically over the past week or so.' She looked into his eyes. 'Are you OK?'

This was his chance.

'Mel, I love you sweetheart. You and Blake mean everything to me. You are my whole world.'

'I know that baby-'

'And you know that I would do anything – anything - to keep you both safe from harm. You do know that don't you?'

She placed both hands on his face, scratching her thumbs against the light stubble.

'Of course darling. Of course I know that. I feel the same. You and Blake give me a reason to get up every morning.'

Noel's face creased; an agonising gesture that told Amelia the gravity of pain he was feeling.

'What is it darling? Did something happen at the funeral? Was it Clarissa? Is she OK?'

He slowly shook his head. 'She's fine. The funeral went as well as could be expected. He had a good send off.'

She said nothing, letting him talk at his own pace.

'Do you remember, shortly after our engagement, we took a trip to Ireland? You met some of my folks.'

The sudden leap to a distant memory caught Amelia off guard, the question not anticipated.

'Er, yes. We had a great time. Your family are wonderful.'

'Yeah, we did. Do you remember my Uncle Padraig? The one we used to call "Looney Tunes"?'