house—but when I opened my eyes, it was still dark. I groped for the alarm clock, which was for some reason turned with its face away from me, and discovered that it was 3:05 A.M .
Muttering wordlessly, I turned back over and tried to get back to sleep, but when I closed my eyes, my mind kept buzzing. I’d suffered from insomnia in the past, but not for a long time.
“Shit.” I sat up in bed, fully awake now, feeling as if my brain had decided that it was morning and I should be up and about. I’m not sure why, but I crossed the room in the darkness and went to the window. I opened the curtains an inch or two and looked outside, at the street on which I now lived.
Upon first inspection, the street was quiet and empty, but then I noticed someone standing on the footpath outside the house next door. From this angle, I couldn’t see the house itself, just the figure standing there, immobile, and facing it.
The figure was short and dumpy and wearing black clothes: black shoes, black trousers, and a long black overcoat. Even her hair was jet black—by this time I’d deduced the figure was female.
At a loose end now that I was awake, I stood there for a while to see what she would do. The girl didn’t move. She just stood there, staring, as if she was unable to take her eyes off the old, abandoned house next door.
Then, as if sensing that she was being watched, she broke away from her scrutiny long enough to glance up at my window. Instinctively, I raised a hand in greeting. The girl—pale face, big dark eyes surrounded by bruise-like smudges of kohl eye makeup—smiled cautiously and returned the gesture. We stood there like fools, staring at each other, and I started to realize that she probably wasn’t going to look away unless I did. My hand was still raised. I dropped it and shrugged. The girl smiled again.
I closed the curtains and went back to bed, then got up again because right now there was absolutely no chance that I’d get back to sleep. I put on an old T-shirt and a pair of jogging bottoms.
Downstairs, I put on the kettle and tuned the radio to a channel that played slow, sweet songs rather than the incessant chatter of talk radio.
While the kettle was boiling, I opened the back door and stepped outside. The air had turned cold. I could see my breath as a white mist in front of my face. I blew it out, pretending that I was smoking. It was childish, but it killed an urge.
Purely out of nosiness, I walked around to the front of the house to see if the girl had gone. She hadn’t; she was still there, in exactly the same place, and she was staring at the house again.
“Hi,” she said, without turning around.
“Hello. See anything interesting?”
“It’s just a house,” she said, as if she were trying to convince herself of something. Her breath did the same as mine, a thin white snake hanging in the air.
“It’s cold,” I said, redundantly. “How about a nice hot cup of tea?”
I thought she might be homeless. I’d experienced that situation myself, so felt a level of empathy toward her. I didn’t think there was any harm in being friendly. None of my new neighbors had bothered with me, so this odd, lonely girl might become my only friend.
She moved her head, looking at me. “You serious?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Why not? You look like you could use a hot drink.”
The girl walked over to the wall at the front of my property, sat down on it and made a face that looked like she’d tasted something she didn’t much like. “I hope you’re not planning to rape me. I have VD.”
“That must be nice for you. I bet your parents are so proud.”
She cracked a smile, amused by the silly middle-aged man in his Clangers T-shirt and baggy joggers. “A brew would be nice…”
“It’s up to you. I’m not going to beg you, for Christ’s sake.” I turned away, went back inside, but left the side door open.
In about half a minute, she followed me inside.
“How do you take