present circumstances.’
I frowned. She was starting to sound convincing – though I still didn’t believe her. I couldn’t be hallucinating the interaction with the hacker, could I? Or could I have absently switched off and let my hands doodle across the keyboard while my mind focused on other things?
It was uncomfortable but it was one answer. Maggie was right about Joe and Lesley not finding any evidence …
I put my head in my hands and propped my elbows on her desk. ‘So the woman in the mirror, you think is … ?’
Maggie saw I was catching her drift and let the certainty of her conviction ease into her voice. ‘You woke up from a nightmare, walked into the living room and looked in the mirror. There you saw a woman with a stricken white face and black hair. Someone who was screaming.’
I nodded.
‘I think you may have been looking at yourself, sweetheart.’
‘I wasn’t. It didn’t …’ My voice cracked with new doubt. ‘It looked like someone else …’
Maggie continued on: ‘You were tired, half asleep, maybe even still dreaming …’ She tailed off and let me think on that a bit.
There was logic in it.
Argh. My conviction was wavering.
Crap.
Maybe it had been me who was crying. It didn’t sound like that but it was plausible that the nightmare had disturbed me and that I had experienced the darkness of night, the acoustics of the flat, in some hypnogogic state, which had then got my imagination going into overdrive.
‘Just get some sleep, some counselling and some new software,’ she was saying. ‘If you won’t go for all three, make sure you get the last. I think it’s fairly unlikely that you’ve been hacked in the way you’ve suggested but if there is someone interfering with your computer you should sort that out as a priority. Especially in your line of work. You don’t want anyone nicking your ideas or corrupting your files, do you?’
‘Nope. Most definitely not.’ That was a good point.
‘Make sure you’re backing your work up, yeah?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, definitely. I’m going to get a virus check too.’
My confusion over the mirror woman was beginning to ebb. Of course, I could have dreamed it; after all I was having lots of strange dreams. This was a new twist in the nightmares. I should monitor myself and if they got worse or more physical I’d start using the sleeping pills the doctor had prescribed when Mum … I still couldn’t say it or think the word.
Maggie must have seen my expression, as her forehead wrinkled and she sent me a look of immense compassion. Her red hair clouded round her face, brushing her shoulders and paisley pashmina. ‘Okay?’
I nodded again, relaxed my brows and poked my forehead. ‘Brain working again.’
She smiled sympathetically. ‘Call me, whenever you want to talk. You know there are bereavement counsellors out there. I’m sure I can fix you up with someone I know.’
I got to my feet. ‘I’m okay. I’m just, I dunno. Put it this way, when I’m on my own it all seems pretty real.’
‘That’s the point though, isn’t it? Take it easy for a bit, Sadie,’ she said and grinned. ‘The article you filed yesterday was great by the way. I loved it. Keep positive. Think along those lines. Mind you, don’t for one moment think you’re getting an extension on that other piece we talked about. If that’s what you’re fishing for it ain’t working …’ She winked.
I tugged myself up from more contemplative depths to meet Maggie’s banter. ‘You gotta give me marks for originality,’ I said. ‘Most prevaricating writers would dish up something like writer’s block or “other commitments”. Not me – I go for full-blown psychotic meltdown.’
‘Or tiredness,’ she added and straightened herself up. ‘Though I know you’re really just here for the coffee.’
‘Well, it sure ain’t the company,’ I said as I passed through the door.
She didn’t answer but a pen whacked me on the back as I turned out of sight.
I navigated around the desks to the front door.
‘Er, hi Sadie.’
It was Flick. She’d stuck her head above her monitor in a half-risen position and was looking kind of sheepish.
‘Oh, hi Flick.’
She sat back into her chair, so I moved round the other side of her Mac to see her as she spoke.
‘I’m really sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing.’ She extricated a strand of dark hair from her mouth. ‘The door wasn’t closed.’
‘Oh,’ I said. Heat touched my cheeks. ‘Sorry, it was meant to be