Paul noticed that Linda was looking a little nervous when she fronted up at his place to sit for him, but didn't think anything of it. If he was going to have to sit for a pair of rumbustious twins he figured that he'd be a little nervous as well. He kept an eye on her and the twins until he left and as far as he could see she was handling things well.
Linda was feeling somewhat nervous but it had nothing to do with the twins. Sitting for a couple of two year olds? A breeze. She had three younger brothers and she had had a lot of practice keeping them in line. She wasn't quite so carefree about the weather.
The weather forecast was for severe storms and she just didn't like storms. Some storms, anyway. She didn't mind wind and rain, and even hail and snow were acceptable as long as she was inside, but she couldn't abide thunderstorms with the incessant lightning and crashing thunder. For some reason thunder and lightning just got under her skin and made her want to scream. The incipient storm was one of the reasons she'd agreed to stay overnight. Catch her driving home in the middle of a thunderstorm? At night? In your dreams or, possibly, her nightmares.
It was about two a.m. when Paul arrived home. Apart from the automatic front light and a nightlight for the twins in the hallway the house was dark. Paul quietly checked in on the twins, finding them both dead to the world, two little innocents who would never dream of dropping a cat in the toilet. (At least, not a second time.)
He paused outside the spare room, but no noise came from it. He assumed Linda was asleep and didn't bother to knock in case he woke her. He continued on to his own room and went to bed. Unfortunately, he found, bed didn't equal sleep on this occasion.
The storm that had been brewing arrived, announcing itself with a sheet of lightning and a thunderclap loud enough to wake the dead. Not loud enough to wake the twins, mind you, but certainly loud enough to wake Linda, who sat up and screamed in fright. She really hated thunderstorms.
Paul had heard the scream and was out of bed in an instant, heading down to see if the twins were OK. Seeing both were still asleep he relaxed somewhat, but found there was a background noise that shouldn't be there. It seemed someone was crying.
As he wasn't crying and the twins were asleep that left one candidate. He strolled over to the spare room, tapped lightly, and went in, flicking on the light as he did so. Linda was huddled under the blankets, softly crying. Paul sat down next to her.
"I thought someone was being murdered," he said, one hand going out to lightly touch her head. "Are you OK?"
Linda lifted her head and nodded.
"I'm fine," she mumbled. "Sorry to disturb you. I had a bit of a nightmare I guess."
"Uh-huh. These things happen. Don't worry about it. I wasn't asleep. Why don't you just snuggle down and go back to sleep. I'll just sit here for a few moments."
"Oh, there's no need to do that Mr Thatcher," she mumbled. "I'm sure I'll be fine now."
He heard the words but didn't think they matched the look on her face.
"Yes, I'm sure you are fine. I'll still just stay here for a minute or two until I'm sure you've properly calmed down."
She gave a little nod, secretly pleased that she wasn't alone. Really, it was ridiculous, eighteen and scared of thunder. She should be ashamed of herself.
It was all well and good telling herself that but another peal of thunder over-rode her good intentions. She gave a half scream and grabbed at Mr Thatcher, needing someone to hold onto. Paul found himself with Linda almost sitting on his lap, clutching him.
Trying hard not to laugh he eased her back down onto the bed, pushing the covers back as he did so. He coaxed her to lie down, speaking softly, helping her to relax. Another clap of thunder, and she started to tense up again, but he talked over it, telling her to relax, don't worry, he was still there.
"What you need is something to take your mind off the storm," Paul told her, "and I know just the medicine."
