Page 49 of The Black Trilogy

And for goodness’ sake, put a shirt on. Trousers would be good too. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes on his face.

Luke did as he was told and went back to bed, and when I took his drink up five minutes later, he was dead to the world again. No, the universe. He didn’t stir for the rest of the day. As he hadn’t kicked me out, I took advantage of his pool table and dartboard, not to mention the giant TV and the well-stocked fridge. I was tempted to skinny dip in the pool, but Murphy’s law would have ensured he woke up and caught me.

Swimming or no swimming, it was a far more pleasant Saturday than I’d have had at Hazelwood Farm. Susie had drawn today’s shift, and she was no doubt enjoying the company of the whining brats.

As the hours ticked by, I used my phone to find a recipe for macaroni and cheese and attempted that for dinner. Since it was my comfort food, I figured it would be good for a sick person as well.

“You didn’t have to cook,” Luke said when he appeared in the early evening, thankfully dressed this time.

“Don’t get too excited. I might end up poisoning you.”

And for once, it wouldn’t be intentional. At least I’d fished out the fingernail I’d accidentally grated into the cheese.

“Didn’t you cook when you lived in America?”

“Not much. We just ate a lot of takeaways.”

He must have been hungry, because he shovelled his plateful down, despite the pasta not being entirely cooked. Not bad for a first attempt, but was I brave enough to try a second? At least Luke had some colour back.

“I’ll clear up the dishes before I head off. I’m glad you’re getting better.”

“Stay. Please. I like having you here.”

Stay? What did he have in mind? “Why?”

“It’s nice to have company.”

I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or disappointed by such a bland response, but in the end, hot water won the day. That and the central heating were too good to turn down.

I shrugged, careful not to appear too enthusiastic. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

“Fancy a movie?”

“Sure.”

I vetoed the rom-com that Luke half-heartedly suggested and let him pick out a spy thriller instead. The storyline was vaguely interesting, but I couldn’t help picking out all the factual inaccuracies in my head as it played. Although I had a movie theatre at home, watching a film from start to finish was a novelty for me. Usually if I fancied seeing some action, I only had to pop into the control room at work. Assuming I wasn’t in the middle of it, of course.

After a family-sized bowl of popcorn and an unrealistic ending where the bad guy’s chest exploded after being shot with a .22, my eyelids grew heavy.

“You look like you’re ready for bed,” Luke said. “After all the chores you’ve done today, you’ll sleep well.”

“I doubt it. I rarely do.”

“You suffer from insomnia?”

“Not insomnia, exactly. I have a few problems at night.”

Problems. What an understatement. Murderous tendencies more like, but I didn’t want to explain that one.

“Doesn’t everybody, sometimes?”

“With me, it’s more than that. Promise that if you ever hear me cry out, or see me sleepwalking, you won’t come near.”

“Why not?”

“I once hurt someone in my sleep, and I can’t let it happen again. It’s why I always sleep alone.”

“Hurt someone? How?”

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