A Gentleman Caller in the Dark of Night
There was a loud knock on the door at 2am this morning.
When I looked out of my bedroom window, I saw a man who I did not know, standing by our front gate and looking towards the house, then back out onto the street again.
‘We’re going to be burgled while we sleep in our beds!’
I stood frozen by the window, phone in hand, waiting for the man to make his next move.
He crossed the road and stood under a bus shelter for a few moments.
I went to check on Zachy who was sleeping soundly in his bed and when I returned to the window, the man was gone.
The more I thought about it, the more I thought it unlikely for a potential intruder to knock on the door first… so what on earth did this man want from me at 2am?
Maybe he wanted directions… Or to use the phone, ask for a glass of water, or even just desperately needed the loo? Perhaps he wanted to borrow money for his bus fare home? I had no idea.
But, I knew I would not be able to sleep until I had considered every eventuality and ruled out the possibility of him returning to raid the house whilst we trembled in our beds.
I dragged my pillow and duvet and set up camp on the floor in Zachy’s room. If he was going to hurt my baby, he would have to go through me first.
Besides, if we made it through the night Zachy would be so excited to find me asleep next to him when he woke up in the morning.
I lay very still, my phone resting next to me on the pillow with 999 already punched in, listening out for the tiniest of noises to break through the sound of my son breathing softly in and out, and then I drifted off into a broken and rather uncomfortable sleep.
Zachy was horrified when he woke up at 5.23 this morning and found me asleep on his bedroom floor. He was really offended and insisted I return to my own bed immediately.
He then threw a bit of a strop for 10 mins while I gathered my things and moved out.
Once he had calmed down and decided to be a sweet little boy again, I tiptoed downstairs and nervously opened the front door to see if our caller had left a clue as to his intentions… and to see if the Milkman had been.
Greeting me on the doorstep was a perfectly formed turd and half a carton of milk.
Fox or Foe?