He shoots bolt upright in bed, not realizing at first why he's been woken up, when he processes that she's screaming. He fumbles for the light and flips it on. She's thrashing about and he doesn't know what to do, he doesn't want to grab her and make it worse, so he yells, 'Lizzie!' and touches her shoulder.
The scream cuts off as though he's flicked a switch and she opens her eyes. Her parents are banging on the door, trying to open it, but he'd locked it before they went to bed. He slides out of bed and opens the door. Isobel and Nick are dishevelled from sleep, exhausted, and frantic in their rumpled pyjamas.
'Nightmare,' he says briefly, and grief washes over Isobel's face.
'Let us know if you need anything,' Nick says, voice hoarse.
'Yeah,' he tells them, and they disappear down the hallway back to the guest room.
She's sitting up in bed, hugging her knees to her chest, her face washed out in the harsh light.
'Remember any of it?' he asks her gently.
She shakes her head.
'Want to go back to sleep?' he asks.
She shakes her head again. Okay. Well, he can handle this. He's experienced with nightmares, he's had enough of them. He can do this. He can help her.
'Okay,' he says. 'Let's get you some tea, and then let's go into the living room and read or watch a movie or something. Okay?'
She nods, thankfully, and climbs out of bed. She grabs a sweater before they head to the kitchen, where she sits, shivering, in a chair at the table.
'What movie d'you want to watch?' he asks, keeping his voice light. 'Or would you rather watch one of your awful British shows like To The Manor Born?'
'They're not awful,' she responds weakly, though at least it's a response. 'But To The Manor Born sounds good.'
'Okay, great. As long as it's one of the ones with the butler. I like him,' he says.
He turns and catches a weary smile. 'All right. Glad I'm finally persuading you of the merits of it.'
'Well, you are very persuasive,' he says. 'You've got me doin' a lot of things I wouldn't've been caught dead doin'. Like drinkin' tea.'
This time she chuckles a little.
'Camomile all right?' he asks, and she nods. He pours the boiling water over the tea bags in both mugs, then joins her at the table, sliding one across to her.
'Thank you,' she says softly, looking down at the tea.
'No problem,' he says, still keeping his voice light. 'Let's get that show goin', all right?'
They get through one tape, four episodes, and when he looks over as the tape comes to an end he notices she's fallen asleep, head pillowed on the arm of the sofa. She looks peaceful for the first time all day and he's filled with a deep despair. How are they gonna work through this? How is he gonna be able to help her?
She murmurs in her sleep when he gets up to turn off the tv. Grabbing a blanket from the old steamer trunk in the corner, he drapes it over her, then lies down next to her on the sofa, gathering her into his arms before tugging some of the blanket over him. She moves closer to him in her sleep and he closes his eyes against his own guilt and grief.