The Millionaire's 'Friend' - Natasha's Story

Chapter 24 - Wetherby's

"Annie?"

I was already cold, and tense, wrapped tightly in the thin bed covers, when I heard the searching, pitiful call of her name that pierced through the silence.

"Annie darling? Where are you?"

I sucked in a sharp breath, the cold night air stabbing like a thousand tiny daggers in the back of my throat. I pulled the bedding higher, shrouding my head and trying to block out the sound – that slow, staggering shuffle of footsteps approaching.

My eyes were pulled shut but I screwed them tighter and tighter, until they ripped open at the sound by my door. Not a single slither of light was visible in the room, but the sound of the handle rattling violently held my eyes in that direction.

"Please, don't come in." I whispered, but my pleas were swallowed up, unnoticed by the dark.

Finally, the latch clicked open and the huddled silhouette of a man pushed through the door. A harsh scraping sound broke through the silence as the chair, that had been wedged beneath the handle, was forced back.

"Annie?" The voice sent chills through me, its closeness made my stomach knot.

"No." I sobbed, fear pulling a noose around my throat. "I'm not Annie."

"Who are you?!"

I screamed as flailing hands caught at the sheets and then finally connected with my limbs and dragged me from the bed.

"What are you doing in my house?!!!"

I gasped for air as I sat bolt upright in bed, the fear still raw and real. I rested my head on my knees, trying to return my heart rate to a comfortable level. Why did this keep happening? That's every night of the last two weeks, ruined by nightmares.

I glanced to the side and read the luminous numbers as they ticked over to 4.56 a.m., only a few minutes short of my alarm.

****************

"You look exhausted." Remarked Fliss as she walked around the corner and at once ground to a halt. "Aren't you sleeping?" She asked, the concern from my best friend strangely bubbling some unwanted emotion in my chest.

"I'm fine." I deflected. "I'm glad you reminded me about this. Some of the pieces are amazing."

My eyes had spent the last two hours devouring the Italian treasures currently on display at Wetherby's. Beautiful, delicate pieces of craftsmanship, paintings and sculptures of a distant time. And a small collection of renaissance jewellery – held in awe and reverence once more.

"Thinking of bidding are you?" She mocked gently.

"Absolutely. Do you think I might have a chance of winning that vase? I could do with one." I pointed to a highly decorated ceramic urn. "I think I've got a shot – though, a hand me down skirt and a cherry lollipop would be my limit."

"Cherry? Your favourite. You must really like that vase." She giggled. "Anyway, I can't stay long, I haven't quite finished for the day. Ella mentioned you were down here and I wanted to give you this."

She handed me a thick glossy magazine that was earmarked about a third of the way in.

"A Wetherby's Annual Review catalogue? Wow, Fliss, you give me the best stuff." I remarked dryly.

"I know, but you're gonna love me for this one. Now, this may be a bit of a shock – but a good one I promise. Open it." I did as I was bid, opening to the earmarked page. Instant pressure stung behind my eyes as I stared into a face that I hadn't seen for far too long.