byThe sensation of falling was overwhelming. His gut dropped away and he came awake, on the point of vomiting. Shaking almost uncontrollably, he switched on the bedside lamp. As he did so, something shifted beyond the foot of the bed, a crippled, uncomfortable retreat. His own shadow? Somewhere downstairs there was a sequence of thumps. Always the same. Every night for three weeks.
When the nightmare finally quit on him, Hatherley woke up refreshed. Relieved. It was Autumn, but very warm, only a few clouds marring a blue sky, ideal for mowing or pruning the shrubs. Funny how things worked out, he thought. Melissa had been the gardener. Fussy and fastidious, determined to have the place immaculate, which she’d done. He’d never paid much attention and told her more than once to get a garden
