The Moon Is Out Tonight Read online

  Chapter 3—New Morning

   

  Clarissa slept well that night, though went through an episodic dream in which she serenaded the moon with corny poetry, while standing on a balcony like some frustrated Juliet. This was embarrassing enough, but the dream veered into nightmare territory when she found she couldn't open the door back into her castle, and that she was forced into spending the night outside in the cold night air. Serves her right for spending so much time moon-gazing before going to bed.

  She'd thrown the duvet off in her sleep, which gave her cold arms—that could have influenced the dream, or was it the other way round? Monty was frisky and went out again to hunt, instead of accompanying her to bed as usual. He returned in the early hours, his fur cold through as he pressed against her to warm up.

  Clarissa lay in bed thinking about her dream. It was as if she'd been acknowledging that she was locking herself out of her own life in some way. Did the lack of response to her poetry in the dream mean that she lacked confidence over her plans for a new meatier project, or that she was disenchanted with her previous creations—or both? Aargh—such were the perils of writing. The only way to find out was to sit down and do it.

  There weren't any admirers gazing up at her in her dream, but perhaps she'd have another look online to see if she could spot any likely Romeos. Time for a cup of Lady Grey and some muffins.

  Clarissa left Monty on the bed—he must have had an exhausting time prowling, but then he slept for at least nineteen hours a day anyway. She wondered what he'd been up to and where he went at night. Filling the kettle up at the sink, Clarissa looked out on her garden, which was twinkling with dew after a cold night. What was that lying by the roses? It was a dead pheasant. Her blessed cat was a poacher! Just as well he hadn't brought that indoors while it was still alive—think of the noise and the mess in the middle of the night.

  No wonder he was so tired this morning—a typical male. Out on the tiles for half the night and leaving her a present in apology.

  Did she really want to find a man to share her life?

  She'd have to look….

   

  The End