Knocking On Windows

My heart stopped when I heard the knocking at my windowpane.  It was the middle of the night and I had been sound asleep in my bed.  The noise came again and my heart sprang back to life and was beating ten to the dozen.  Next I heard someone say ‘Clare’ from outside.  My heart now sunk.  How did the burglar know my name?  I closed my eyes tighter and pretended I wasn’t here and this wasn’t happening.  Another tap at the window and ‘Clare’ a bit louder.  I gulped and gently peeled myself from under the covers to peek out of the curtains.  Alan, my husband to be, was looking at me from the other side of the glass.  He was perched on top of a ladder leaning up against the house.  He had been out with his friends and decided after a few drinks too many that he wanted to come and see me.  So, even though he lived on the very end of the Central line to me, had caught the last train to my parents’ house and was serenading me outside my bedroom window. I whispered that I would let him in through the kitchen door but he would have to be quiet or else my dad would kill him.  I snuck downstairs and tried desperately not to make a sound.  We both crept back up to my room and he slept the night.  The next morning, my dad made his way to the shower room, which was right outside my door.  He came in my room and asked why my bedroom door was closed when it was always open?  I said the light in the landing was getting on my nerves.  Luckily, he didn’t also ask why there was a big lump under my duvet cover.  Once I heard the water run from the shower, I escorted Alan downstairs and out of the back door with a kiss and a goodbye.  At breakfast, my mum sleepily mentioned that she had been woken in the night by some strange sounds.  I agreed that so had I and it was just next-door’s cat.