Picking up one, and holding it out in front of me as if itwere a shield.Icy fingers seemed to grasp hold of my legs, just above the shoes I waswearing... I felt a jarring tug, strong enough to fall backward and landmy head in the pillows. I struggled up and swung the pillow hard; itflung across the room and struck the wall leaving me unsure whether Ilost my grip or it had been torn from me.At the foot of the bed, it began to sink down as though someone wasclimbing into it. I unconsciously pulled. No parking, no ice-cream booth, no nothing: nobody. He let his consciousness drift out to sea like some white-winged sea-bird, until a new sound cut through his contemplations. That had to be hiking boots scraping granite gravel. Damn! He decided to pretend to be asleep — like, he was respectably covered and hadn’t moved for an hour anyway. He listened. Boots on gravel — they’re on the flat bit on the other side of the pool. Only one person, he realised. Let them get on with whatever they’d. More

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