The Last Winter of Dani Lancing Chapters 1-4

ONE

Saturday, December 18, 2010

“There’s no such thing as monsters,” he tells her.

The girl screws up her nose. “Look anyway. Please.”

“Okay.”

She hugs Hoppy Bunny tight as her dad slides sideways off the bed and onto the floor, pulling the duvet to one side and peering into the shadows.

“Nothing there.”

“Are you sure?”

Even at five years old she knows that grown-ups can’t be trusted with this stuff. They aren’t clear about what is and isn’t in the dark.

“I am absolutely, totally sure there’s nothing under your bed.”

“Check the wardrobe.”

With an exaggerated sigh, he moves across the room and pulls the doors open quickly. Dresses and coats sway violently, like zombie hordes.

“Dad!”

“It’s okay.” He grabs the clothes. “Nothing to worry about.” He pushes them aside and peers into the back of the wardrobe. “Just clothes, no lions or witches.”

Her eyes widen. “Did you think there would be?”

“No. No . . . I was just being silly.” He sits back on the edge of her bed. “There’s nothing there, darling.”

“Nothing now! What if a monster slides under the door when I’m asleep?”

“Once I kiss you good night the room is sealed, nothing can come into your bedroom in the night.”

She frowns. “What about the tooth fairy?”

“Well . . . ”

“Santa?”

“I meant . . . ” He frowns too. “Nothing bad can come in, and Hoppy Bunny’s here to keep you safe.”

“How?” She looks dubiously at the small stuffed rabbit.

“Hoppy was specially trained, he only lets in good fairies or Santa.”

“Hmmm.”

“Don’t worry, Dani. Mummy and I are downstairs. Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise.” He kisses her forehead . . .

. . . and the memory starts to fade.

Dani watches her younger self melt into the shadows of the night. Frozen in time, for a moment longer, is her father. The sight of him, so young and handsome, makes her smile—a sad smile. Slowly, the black hair, smooth face, elegant clothes slip away. Left behind, lying in the bed, is the older version. His hair is salt and pepper now, his face craggy and lined. He sleeps, but it’s not the sleep of the just. His nights are pained by visions. More than twenty years of night terrors—and she is the cause.

She sits in the chair by the door and watches him sleep just like she does every night, watching for the shadows to take his dreams. When they come, she will sing to him. Sometimes, when he whimpers or calls out, she aches to lean forward and kiss his forehead—but she can’t. Nearly forty years have passed since he banished the monsters from her room. Now it’s her job—to keep him safe in the night.

She curls her arms around herself. The room is cold, though she doesn’t notice, she just likes to feel arms around her. She wishes she could call the child back, see herself again from all those years ago. How old—five? So serious and confident, when had it all disappeared?