THE NIGHT VISITOR
She hurried down the empty street, the sharp click of her heels echoing off the silent pavement. Above, the moon leered down, smug and intrusive. The city dissolved into the misty night, its buildings gleaming coldly under that indifferent silver light. Streetlamps flickered here and there, wrestling patches of darkness into submission. Windows glinted like spectacles perched on the faces of the houses.
Ahead, a tram blazed with lights, festive as a Christmas tree, rattled around a bend, then vanished into the blacknessswallowed whole by the night.
Her footsteps quickened, sharp and frantic against the walls. No, she hadnt made the last tram. The moon smirked down at her.
Shed stayed too late at her friends, then stubbornly refused an escort, convinced the tram would come. Now, her steps slowed. Stopped. Exhausted, she sank onto a bench and let the tears come, hot and helpless.
Thenthe screech of brakes. A voice, cheerful and lilting, called out, *”Fancy a ride?”* She shrank back, wishing she could disappear into the shadows. No adventures tonightjust home, distant and unreachable.
A man leaned out from the drivers seat. *”Dont be scared. Ill get you wherever you need, quick as you like.”* The passenger door swung open. Hesitant, she slipped inside.
The leather seat cradled her, warm and plush, smelling of comfortand something else, faintly sweet. On the backseat, a child slept curled against a massive dog, whose warm breath stirred the loose curls at her neck. She froze.
The man flashed a grin. *”Dont worry. Almas gentle as a lamb. Wont hurt a fly.”*
*”James,”* he offered, hand outstretched.
*”Eleanor Whitmore,”* she managed, voice tight.
He laughed, sudden and bright. *”Bit young for a Whitmore, arent you?”*
She caught her reflection in the rearviewsmudged mascara, wide eyes. Hardly recognised herself. *”Depends who you ask,”* she muttered.
*”Teacher, then?”* he guessed. She stayed quiet, lost in thought.
*”We stayed out late too,”* he ventured.
Slowly, the fear ebbed. There was something familiar about him, as if theyd known each other forever. They slipped into easy conversation, laughing like old friends. Alma gave a low, warning bark*keep it down, youll wake the boy.*
Then the car turned into a dim alley. Her pulse spiked.
*”Just popping into the chemist,”* James said, sensing her tension. *”Promised my mum her medicine. Wont take a tick.”*
It was well past midnight, the weekend stretching lazily ahead. No one waited for Eleanorjust a stack of schoolbooks at home. So they drove, the car slicing through the darkness, headlights cutting the night like a knife.
Then James invited her back. She wasnt surprised.
The flat was on the seventh floor. He carried his sleeping son carefully, and in the lifts pale glow, they stole glances, then laughed at themselves like mischievous children. James was tall, broad-shouldered, golden from the sun. His fair hair only made his tan deeper. Eleanor, even in heels, barely reached his chin.
The flat was tidy, everything in its placea man who cared for his home. James tucked his son into bed; Alma flopped down beside him. They drank tea, listened to classical music. Odd, how comfortable she felt here, in a strangers home at this hour. That same feeling againas if theyd always been a family, as if little Charlie were hers.
Later, over wine in the kitchen, James voice turned rough. His wife had left themno, died. Three years ago. The birth had been too much. *”She told the doctors to save the baby,”* he said, the words heavy. *”No question.”* His mother helped now, watching Charlie when work swallowed him whole.
He asked Eleanor to stay. She didwhether from the wine or something else, she couldnt say.
Morning came soft and slow. A childs whisper roused her. *”Mummy,”* Charlie chirped, patting her cheek. Almas bulk pressed against her legs. Tears welled as she pulled the boy close, murmuring, *”Mine, mine.”*
James appeared in the doorway with a steaming breakfast tray. *”Getting on well, then?”* He grinned.
*”Marry me,”* he said, sudden and sure.
She blinked. *”You dont even know me.”*
*”I know enough. Lifes longwell learn the rest. Charlie likes you. Alma does too. Youd be a good mother.”*
Outside, dawn crept in, painting the room pink. Eleanor lay still, eyes closed, replaying the strange dreamwalking through a city that wanted to swallow her whole, saved by a man who asked for forever.
Then she opened her eyes.
James slept beside her. Between them, Charlie snuffled softly. Almas weight pinned her feet. The dog cracked one eye, yawned, and settled back into sleep.
The alarm wouldnt ring for ages. Eleanor turned her lesson plans over in her mindand drifted off again.
Somewhere, the sun chased the last of the night away. The moon, high above, winked down at her dreams.
