'He's fast asleep,' Gemma whispered, as she pulled the door to on the bedroom her son was sleeping in. 'He looks so cute.'
'All four-year-olds look cute,' Amber said, smiling. She patted the Queen-sized bed she was sitting on. 'Now get in, you've had a long day, hon.'
'I know, and that bath has sapped all my energy,' Gemma said, going over to the window. Rain drummed noisily on windowpane driven by an unrelenting high wind that buffeted the small cottage they were staying in. 'It's dark already,' she said, pulling her dressing gown tighter around her although the temperature in the room was warm enough.
'Pull the curtains and get into bed,' her friend said gently but firmly.
'Stop giving me orders,' Gemma rebuked good naturedly.
'Sorry. Am I fussing again?' Amber pretended offence.
'Yes.'
'Do you want me to stop?'
Gemma thought for a moment before replying. 'Maybe,' she said cryptically, provoking a laugh from her friend. Amber's expressive eyes, she reflected, alternated between mischievousness and playfulness. They were a light green with a hint of hazel set into a soft round face framed by dark wavy hair that matched Amber's vivacious personality. She had a lithe shapely figure that had an almost cat-like quality to it lending Amber a peculiar gracefulness when she moved.
Gemma took a step towards the bed and cried out, almost losing her balance. 'Fuck!'
Amber sat up straight, concerned. 'You okay? What happened?'
Gemma bent down picking up something off the floor. 'Nothing, it's just one of Stevie's toy cars. They're everywhere. I told him not to play with them in his room.'
'All four-year old boys like toy cars,' Amber laughed, relaxing again.
'Like them? He never stops playing with them.'
'Maybe he'll be a racing driver when he grows up.'
'I think I'd prefer him to be a driving instructor,' Gemma said. She ran her fingers through her wet hair. 'Wish I'd remembered to bring my hair dryer,' she said, not for the first time.
'My hair's drying out okay,' Amber responded, touching her shoulder length chestnut brown hair. Like Gemma she wore a dressing gown.
'You had your bath first. Your hair has had more time to dry.'
'Of course. You were settling little Stevie, weren't you?'
'Hmm. You're lucky you didn't use up all the hot water.'
'I wouldn't dare,' Amber sniffed, with exaggerated pretense.
'Let's get into bed,' Gemma said, turning off the main bedroom light. Only the soft light from the bedside lamp now illuminated the room.
'You sure you don't want me to sleep on the sofa, hon?'
'For the hundredth time, no. I'm not having you sleep on the sofa. Besides it's taken.'
'Taken?'
'Yes, Benji's sleeping there.' Benji was Gemma's pet Cairn terrier.
'That's that decided then,' Amber said, taking off her dressing gown. Underneath she wore a clinging satin black nightie that accentuated her shapely figure. She pulled the duvet back and climbed in. Gemma shed her dressing gown and got in the other side.
'Anyway,' Gemma said, moving close to Amber, so their faces almost touched. 'I don't want to sleep on my own tonight.'
Amber putting a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. 'Stop worrying. The police will find him. He's not going to get away with it this time.'
'Do you know what date it is today?'
'It's the thirty-first.'
'The thirty-first of October. Halloween. I should be back at home in London taking Stevie out trick or treating. Instead, I'm holed up like some refugee in my parent's holiday cottage in Kent in the arsehole of nowhere.'
'Don't be so hard on yourself. You and Stevie are safe and that's all that matters. Once they find him, you'll be able to go home. There'll be plenty more Halloweens to take Stevie trick or treating.'
'Do you know what Stevie asked me this morning? He asked me if there was such a thing as monsters in real life, and I told him there wasn't. But there is, isn't there? There really is.'
'Hey,' Amber soothed, giving her friend an affectionate hug. 'Everything is going to be alright.'
There was a sudden loud increase in the rain pelting against the windowpane, and a fierce gust of wind rattled the windows in the small cottage. It was as though something was trying to get in, Gemma thought. After a few seconds it seemed to die down a little.
'Halloween,' Gemma breathed. 'You used to be into all that stuff, didn't you?'
'Halloween?'
'Yes, I remember when we were together back at Uni. You were quite heavily into all that stuff, paganism and witches -- what was it you called it?'
'Wicca,' Amber said softly.
'Yes, that's right. That's an old word for witchcraft, isn't it?
'
'Early twentieth century, actually.'
'But it's all to do with witches, making potions and casting spells, isn't it?'
'There's a bit more to it than that,' Amber was absent-mindedly stroking Gemma hair.
'Are you still into it?'
'No, that was years ago, back when we were students. You know, trying out different things -- you were quite a militant socialist if I remember.'
Amber laughed, 'God, yes, I was well into going on protest marches, lobbying politicians, I had Che Guevara t-shirt and everything.'
'There you go then. You're not still off on protest marches, are you?'
'No, not with little Stevie to look after. I only asked because, well, when we bumped into each other again back in August in Tescos, I'm sure you were wearing a necklace with one of those pagan symbols or whatever -- that star thingy, you know the one?'