London Under Midnight Read Online Free PDF

awoke again all this would turn out to be a dream. But anxiety nagged her. Why can't I remember? Something terrible happened? Why don't I know my own name?
        Her breathing grew more erratic. Crimson sparks flew out from the reeds at her. She knew she was starting to disintegrate mentally.
        'You've got to keep it together… you're in danger… you've got to save yourself.' She took a deep breath; when she asked that question again her voice exploded weirdly from her lips. 'What is… your name?' She tried so hard to remember her body convulsed. 'Something else,' she gasped. 'Something easier.' Her lips pressed together as she made the effort to control her growing sense of terror. 'Listen. What's your favourite colour?' This time the answer came straight away. 'Green.' Another question: 'Chocolate or chips?' The answer came as part cry, part laughter. 'Chocolate!' Keep going. 'What are you afraid of?' This time it came as full-blooded cry. 'This… I'm afraid of this. I don't know my own name.' She took a deep breath. 'I'm also afraid of loneliness… and going into a room at night without switching the light on first…' More: 'What's your earliest memory? Don't know… come on, think… think!' She gasped. 'Bakku… the white kitten. Christmas in the house with red gates.' It was if a mechanism was freeing itself in her mind. Wheels turned. Gears made connections. She blinked at the reeds. They were so green they appeared to be luminous. On the gravel near her face were bits of flotsam - a gum wrapper, a triangle of green glass, probably a fragment from a beer bottle. 'Tell me about a happy memory,' she demanded. 'Tell me about a time you were happy.' On the shingle just inches from her eye was a silver coin. It looked like a star against a dark sky it shone so brightly.
        'Come on, tell me a good memory.' She swallowed a lungful of air. Her skin began to tingle. 'I'm little. There's a boy wading in the river. He calls to me, "Don't come too close. It's dangerous. But you can watch me if you sit on the bank. Did you hear me…?" Then he speaks my name. But what is it?' She swallowed. 'Keep going. What happened next? The boy smiles at me… he's my brother… the sun's shining. We're staying at Grandma's. My brother's annoyed that Dad won't buy him a metal detector so he can find coins, but he's found another way… what's the other way?' She closed her eyes. She pictured the twelve-year-old boy with his mass of frizzy hair. He's standing on a bank of shingle midstream. The sun shines. Not far away a horse drinks from the river. Her cousin flies a blue kite in the field. Then she saw the boy in her mind's eye again. He says a word that must be a name. But what name? 'Then Leo says… that's my brother's name: Leo… and Leo says: "I've been reading about treasure hunting. The book says just use your eyes. It's all about teaching your mind to see the right shape. You see this patch of shingle? The river sorts stones into certain shapes and weights; it's all to do with current flows. See here? It's left stones that are the shape of coins. That means if coins fall into the water when the bank is eroded they'll be deposited in places like this. Treasure hunters call them Glory Holes." So… if I bend down and picture a coin in my mind…
        'Leo crouches to stare at the stones. I see the concentration on his face. Then he yells out, "I've found one… I'm sure it's Roman!" I was so excited for him. He came splashing through the water to me, and he's shouting… "It is Roman. Look… April!" '
        In one convulsive moment she sat up. 'April. My name is April.'
        Recalling her name, and the sudden ability to move again, left her dazed. April looked round. She was sitting on a shingle beach with her legs still in the water. At either side of her were patches of reeds, their tips were higher than her head. In front of her appeared to be a limitless tract of water. Behind her, the ground rose in