The Awakening

The Awakening

Things that go bump in the night…

 

Last Friday night I was awoken from my slumber by the sound of tapping on glass.

 

I could see a light moving backwards and forwards across the bedroom curtain.

 

I checked the time: 2.30 in the morning.

 

I peered through the curtain and realised that there was someone at the rear of my neighbours’ house, someone with a torch.

 

My heart was racing. I got dressed and went to a room where I could, if I stood on a chair, see what was going on at the back of my neighbours’ house.

 

With trembling legs, I breathlessly raised myself up onto the chair.

 

I saw a figure, his face dimly illuminated by his mobile phone.

 

In the still of the night I could hear the sound of the phone ringing inside my neighbours’ house.

 

I returned to the bedroom to analyse the situation.

 

I wondered whether an intruder would behave like this. (He was still outside the house so he wasn’t really an intruder; more of an extruder.)

 

It seemed reasonable to conclude that he was trying to attract the attention of my neighbours and that he was known to them as he knew their telephone number.

 

It seemed most likely therefore that he was my neighbours’ grown-up son who occasionally stays overnight.

 

I began to feel a little calmer.

 

But why aren’t my neighbours responding to this impressively rousing behaviour?

 

Why are they ignoring the ringing phone, the flashing light and the tapping?

 

Maybe they’re away for the night.

 

Then there was more tapping. Tap tap TAP TAP TAP.

 

It was now 3.00am. He wasn’t going away.

 

I would have to speak to him.

 

I opened the bedroom window.

 

“Alex?” I said.

 

There was no response; an eerie quietness.

 

“Alex, is that you?” I continued in a louder voice.

 

There was a pause and then a feeble “yes.”

 

“Are you alright?” I enquired.

 

“They won’t let me in!” He wailed.

 

“Maybe they’re away Alex” I proffered.

 

“They are in. I can hear them snoring.”

 

“Oh right” I replied.

 

“I’ve tried phoning them and tapping on the window.”

 

“Yes, I heard you.”

 

“Oh” he said “I apologise. I wanted to wake them up, not you. I’m sorry.”

 

“That’s ok” I said.

 

“I just don’t know how to wake them up.” He said in a pitiful voice.

 

Then came a booming voice from next door “I’m awake now!” and the patio door slid open.

 

“Oh here he is,” said Alex “I really apologise for waking you up. Sorry.”

 

“Oh that’s good. Don’t worry, goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight - sorry.” His voice trailed away.

 

On Saturday afternoon I was in the garden and my neighbour sheepishly appeared over the garden fence. “This is from Alex.” He said, handing me a rather nice bottle of wine. “He feels really bad about disturbing you last night.”

 

“Ah. Really it’s fine. Thank you but there was really no need for him to do this.” I said, clutching the bottle tightly.

 

It’s important to accept a sincere apology with good grace, especially if it’s a good vintage.