Thief in the night

“Ooo an early night…” I thought happily, as I tucked myself in and reached for my Kindle, preparing to re-read the chapter I’d forgotten from the night before.  “… Lovely!   I’ll just have a few minutes.”  

Nigel was settled into the control centre that is his bed -  iPad securely clamped in and accessible; headphones on for listening to the music that invariably wakes me up at 3.00 am; the soft ‘whoosh…whoosh’ of the ventilator providing a passable impression of Darth Vader; tissues close to hand to catch a sudden sneeze; eye-drops for reviving those tired eyes and a couple of sweeties for potentially peckish moments. 

Sleep would be some time off for Nigel as he had to attend to much correspondence on Facebook before getting stuck into a bit of on-line poker.

It wasn’t long before I gave up trying to care about the characters in this book and, like the little dogs, who’d been snuggled up and dreaming doggy dreams for hours, I drifted off to sleep.

The first thing to spook the dogs turned out to be nothing.  But, recognising that their barking was a little more strident than usual, and because I needed the loo anyway, I did a little naked patrol around the house on my way to spend a penny.

One o’ clock and all’s well.  Nigel was still engrossed in his poker game, the dogs were calm once more, and, as everything was now as silent as the softly falling snow, I was back asleep in seconds.  

There was no false alarm the second time.  This time the dogs’ sudden barking was frenzied, hysterical and incessant.  Something was wrong. 

Contrary to what you might expect, I didn’t leap from the bed.  I got up slowly and took the time to put on my jim-jams.  (No sense in being humiliated as well as murdered!)  The dogs’ querulous chorus continued as I joined them in the hallway.

Nigel, oblivious to everything but the next turn of the card, played on.

The first thing to strike me as odd was the tea-light holder and candle on the floor.  What kind of gust of wind could have swept in and lifted that off the shelf I wonder?  I picked it up and noticed that the spare bedroom door was open, and the light on.  I didn’t leave the door open did I?  I never leave the door open.  Don’t want the dogs going in.  And surely I didn’t leave the light on as well?

Had I been watching this on TV I would shake my head in disbelief and say, “You wouldn’t do that would you?  That’s just stupid!”  But, as this was not fiction, and common sense in real life is rare, I walked slowly down the corridor towards the bedroom, and the now quiet dogs, tiptoed along behind me.

Armed with my tea-light holder, I went into the bedroom, not quite sure what I was expecting to see. 

A tray filled with miscellaneous bits of stuff that might come in useful one day was spilled out on the chair.  I didn’t leave that there did I?  Perhaps my brain was still fogged with sleep, because I tried to remember if I had.  I then noticed that the TV was not was where it should be, and the door which leads from the bedroom to the conservatory was open.   

Then I saw the smashed window and the conservatory door open to the elements and the darkness of the garden.

So, like a fool, I went in.

It all happened very quickly after that.  I’m not sure who was the most surprised.  Although why any of us should have been surprised I really can’t imagine, given that it was obvious from the minute the dogs started barking that there was someone in the house and surely intruders expect people to be at home when they intrude?

But, surprised, we were.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, stupidly, as the shape of, what I later described in my statement as a “tallish, broadish” man, loomed before me.  (Should have no problem finding him then, eh?)   Another, smaller shape, completely obscured by the taller, broader shape, was behind him.

Almost choking with fear, and in a voice I could not recognize as my own I yelled, “Get out!  Get out!  Get out!”

And, thankfully, they did.  They got out.  Stumbling through the door, the way they had come, they fled into the night. 

Perhaps it was the power of suggestion?  Or perhaps just a bit of good luck.  But get out they did.  Empty handed.

Right, better see if Nige has finished his poker game.  He’s going to want to know about this.

I was in a bit of a dither as I relayed these events to Nigel and remained in a dither when I asked Paula and Tom to come down from their flat upstairs and also when I phoned the Police. 

The frustration that Nigel feels at being unable to do anything in circumstances like these is unimaginable.  Five years ago he would have strung them up on one of his scaffolds.  He can still, however, be strong for me, by simply being there.  And that is enough to make me feel safe.

The police arrived in a flash.  Patrol cars were searching the area within minutes and a dog team was despatched from York.    Capture is probably unlikely.  A tallish, broadish shape and the back of a head in a blue hoody aren’t all that much to go on to be fair.  They wore gloves, as any self-respecting thief would do, so there are no prints, but, because it had just snowed a little, there were footprints – some of which also bore the unmistakable evidence of dog poo – obligingly left by our two little superheroes.

It was after four when the police finally left.  As sleep was now out of the question, I cleaned the house, made a curry and did the washing.  Like you do.

We later discovered that the thing that first spooked the dogs must have been the thief attempting to break into Paula and Tom’s flat, as clear damage from a screwdriver was evident on the lock.

When something like this happens you inevitably ponder on a number of “what ifs.”

·      What if the dogs hadn’t barked?

·      What if the thieves had come into our bedroom? 

·      What if they hadn’t left when I yelled at them?

·      What if … what if … what if?

Also, because of Nigel’s vulnerability, you can’t help wondering if you were a deliberate target. 

But wondering things like that can send you mad.  So, we will tighten our security where we can, keep some handy ‘even-Julie-can-use-it-weapon’ by the bed, and carry on as normal.

But first, we will treat our superhero little dogs to a big fat bone, and have them measured for a red cape!