Pulling the sheets tighter around her, Helen screwed her eyes shut. She was too old to be afraid of the dark and much too experienced to be afraid of the soft noises that were floating up through the thick floorboards. However, reminding herself of the fact wasn't helping to slow her pounding heart.
It was no more noisy than London had been, no colder. Perhaps it was larger but that should have given her a feeling of comfort, she reasoned. If, god forbid, one of the residents got loose, it would take long enough for them to make it to her that she'd have plenty of time to arm herself.
In some ways the distance frightened her though. The creatures she'd gone to such pains to find were her friends for the most part and, considering she was yet to properly staff the place, they were all she had here.
James had offered to come with her, even for a short stay but, in her stubbornness, Helen had shrugged him off. Now she was half tempted to write him and beg that he come visit as soon as possible even though the letter would take weeks to arrive.
Gritting her teeth, Helen burrowed further beneath her covers, fingers and toes twisting in the sheets.
She was not afraid, she was not afraid.
She didn't know afraid, she'd never done afraid. Hadn't her mother often remarked at her fearless nature?
So why was she curled in on herself, body paralysed with fear as she waited for her first night to pass?
Not even when she'd been on the Titanic had she been this afraid.
She didn't do afraid.
And then something rattled in the hallway outside her door and Helen yelped.
She actually yelped.
A thousand garish curses rushed through her head.
She didn't do afraid.
With a deep breath, Helen forced herself to close her eyes and unclench her toes at the very least. She was safe, her friends were here, she was amongst those who cared for her and would protect her from any true danger. James had made sure of that. Even if he hadn't been allowed to come with her, he'd been stubborn to the point of aggravating when it came to choosing the residents they were going to ship over.
In fact, James had been instrumental in the whole thing. He'd covered her patients when she'd gone to look at the place, he'd walked her through the contract paper work and, whilst renovations were going on, he listened to her prattle on and on about whichever snag was causing her headache that day.
But when it had come to saying goodbye, he'd been almost as much as a blubbering mess as the rest of their staff. Their goodbye had been loaded with dark looks and James had even given her a deep, promising kiss in front of at least 20 witnesses, much to Helen's shock. They hadn't been together like that in nearly a decade.
Then another crash sounded and Helen barely stifled her yelp of fear.
This was stupid, so very stupid. There was nothing to be afraid of.
But she did not leap out of bed at the thought to charge away and find out what was banging about.
In fact, what she did do was try and recall every kiss she'd ever been given. Her memory was good and the night was long and soon enough she was smiling to herself about the shy approach Nikola had used to capture her first adult kisses.
His moustache had tickled in a surprisingly pleasing way as they'd steadily learned each other to the point where she'd been ready to disrobe for him in the library.
After that, it was John who took her kisses. He'd always made her feel small and precious, like a dainty waif that was about to float away if it wasn't for the pressure of his arm around her waist. Of course, their kisses had grown steadily too until the point at which she actually had taken it upon herself to disrobe for him. The sweet shock on his face had been the ego boost she'd needed to slip from the bed and waltz towards him slowly.
But then their time together ended rather abruptly and, Helen realised, she couldn't actually remember their last kiss. She pushed the thought from her mind. The next kiss she had received was from Nigel, his drunken attempt at seduction making her laugh heartily at his expense the next morning.
He hadn't tried again for more than thirty years.
Then came a few anonymous men and a single curious woman who had shocked Helen's sensibilities.
A little while on was James, dear James with his fumbling hands and his throaty moans. There had been something boyish about kissing him. In many ways, he had seemed more innocent than Nikola.
Between them all were a few others, women and men and, occasionally she would return to Nikola and his quiet calm that he could exude when they kissed. He was one of the best kissers on the planet, Helen decided sleepily. It was a great shame he was dead...
And then, next thing she knew, it was morning.
The sun was streaming in through the window, clear and bright and she smiled.
Next time Helen heard a bang in the middle of the night, she didn't hide beneath the covers.
After all, morning would always come.
