I could see the light above, and I was going up and up. Bits and pieces floated past me, bits of dreams, bits of my life, colleagues from work, Jake, Bim Lewis. That seemed perfectly normal, and I brushed past them, focusing only on the light. I opened my eyes and there was Mr. Rudiger’s concerned face. Of course. I’d been burgled and I was in his sitting room. I turned my head to look for the tree outside his window, but it wasn’t there. Instead, Nick Meredith was standing with his back to the light, a worried look on his usually genial face. Not burglars. Mr. Rudiger was an impostor. I wasn’t supposed to trust him. I sat up abruptly, pulling away from his hand. The river came rushing back, and then I was sick. Someone was holding a bowl, and my head, gently stroking the hair back from my sweaty forehead. I finished and lay back. It was still Mr. Rudiger, and now Nick moved forward. “What are you doing here?” I demanded fretfully. I looked around the cream-colored, anonymous room.
