Behind The Pretty Pink Door: Have you met the new neighbours yet?

by M J Hardy

  I stare at her in horror and whisper, “Can’t you hand it over to someone else, this is awful?”

  “Not really, we have to earn the right to pick our cases and I have a lot to prove. You see, I operate in a man’s world and it’s hard to catch a break. I have to be smarter, more resilient and a ball-breaker to stand any chance and sometimes it’s tempting to chuck the lot in and bake cakes at home and hang the money.”

  “Why don’t you find another company, or set up on your own?”

  She stares at me as if I’m an idiot and I probably am because I know nothing about her life and then she sighs. “Maybe I will but for now, I have to put up and shut up because we have stretched ourselves to the max to buy this place and no matter how difficult it is, I must do my bit.”

  She looks at me with interest. “So, how are you finding life in Meadow Vale? Is it how you imagined it, or are the dark shadows claiming your soul already?”

  I look up in surprise and she grins wickedly. “You’re wondering what I’m talking about, well, let me enlighten you.”

  Suddenly I’m all ears as she leans forward and whispers, “Behind every door here is a story to tell. Respectability dressing up depravity.”

  Now I’m all ears, as I whisper, “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’ve told you about the house with the pretty pink door. I mean, who really knows what goes on there, but it’s the others you should really worry about?”

  “Others?”

  I feel slightly nervous as she laughs darkly. “Keith and Sandra hide it well, but I’ve seen the cameras.”

  “Cameras?”

  I feel faint as she smirks. “Trained all over the place, it’s like MI5 in their study. I popped round there once to return one of Keith’s endless questionnaires and saw a bank of monitors set up with our houses in the starring role.”

  “They’re spying on us?”

  “You bet they are.”

  “But isn’t that illegal?”

  “Yes, but he dresses it up as security and protection against thieves and vandals. There’s a reason he likes to run the committee on this place. You mark my words. Who knows what else he has his camera lens trained on?”

  Suddenly, she laughs and a wicked glint sparks in her eye. “Take Nancy and Adrian, for example, it’s not all 2.5 children and mowing the lawn on Sundays there.”

  “Really.”

  I lean forward again and feel my heart beating with excitement. Jasmine is amazing and I can’t get enough of her conversation.

  “Word is, Nancy’s son was expelled from his last school for filming the girls in the changing room.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Sandra Wickham, of course. I mean, he’s nice enough but spends a lot of time playing on his computer and he has one of those drones that he often flies around the place.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “Yes, but he says it’s just a hobby and there’s no recording equipment in it. Well, what he says and what he does are two very different things.”

  Her laughter cracks the tension in the room and she says brightly, “Yes, this is your typical housing development, respectable on the outside but when those front doors close, they hide a multitude of sins. What I want to know, though, is what hides behind yours?”

  My face must betray my shock because she laughs and raises a forkful of cake to her lips. “Don’t mind me, Esme, I spend so long wallowing in filth, I kind of expect it. Pay no attention to my stories because that’s all they are—stories. I’m sure there are perfectly innocent explanations for everything you see around here, and it’s only my overactive imagination that corrupts them into something much more interesting.”

  The doorbell interrupts us, and I’m almost grateful for a moment alone to process what she’s told me. Surely this is a safe place. She must be wrong because everyone seems nice and can’t possibly be the type of people she describes.

  I look up as Nancy enters, carrying a wicker basket with the most mouth-watering smell emanating from it.

  “Sorry I’m late but I had to wait for the brownies to cool. Adrian’s also hanging some wallpaper in the spare bedroom and needed me to hold the ladder.” She rolls her eyes and says painfully, “I need the strongest coffee you’ve got because he’s no decorator. I swear he matched the pattern all wrong and yet as soon as I mentioned it, he went into one of his sulks. Men. I wish they would just knock on the door when needed. It would be a lot easier than dealing with tantrums and arguments 24/7.”

  She places the basket on the counter and I feel bad that I brought nothing with me. Making a mental note, I vow to dust off my Mary Berry cookbook and return the favour very soon.

  For a while, I just listen to the conversation as they chat about how things work around here and people that I’ve yet to meet. It’s very interesting hearing it but I’m left feeling more inadequate than I was when I first sat down. I don’t belong here—we don’t belong here because as hard as I try, I will never be one of them because I just don’t have the foggiest idea where to start.

  Chapter 9

  Esme

  As soon as I get home, I’m like a demented Martha Stewart. Nothing is safe as I thoroughly de-clutter and spring clean our house, striving for show house perfection. Deciding to become a culinary goddess on another day, I hope the takeaway options are good around here because I have no time for cookery while the house is a mess. Armed with bin bags, I blow through the house like a tornado and sweep surfaces and try to bring my house into shape. Nothing is safe as I strive for perfection and make it my mission to drag my family up to meet the expectations living here demands.

  As I drag my rubbish to the wheelie bins around the side of the house, I look up at the property opposite and wonder what secrets it hides. As usual, the window on the top floor is open and yet there is no other sign of life. I squint in the sunshine as I look for any movement or reflection, but see nothing.

  I wonder if Jasmine is just messing with my mind because I can’t imagine there is anything strange going on around here. I mean, everyone seems so nice and, well, normal.

  “What’s going on?”

  I head inside and see Lucas looking at me as if I’ve gone mad.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This place, where is everything?”

  “If you’re referring to the general clutter, you will find it in the bin. We no longer need it in our lives, and I can’t believe we brought so much with us.”

  “Are you mad?”

  Lucas storms past me and starts rifling through the bin, throwing objects to the ground and moaning, “For god’s sake, Esme, this isn’t your stuff to throw. I need these things. What else have you interfered with?”

  “Nothing, I’ve just got started but things are about to change, Lucas. We need to shape up because we’re living like pigs. Look at this place, it’s a brand-new house and we have filled it with rubbish. I want us to start again and look as if we belong here.”

  “Are you serious, what do you mean, look as if we belong here, are you insane?”

  “No, just bringing our family to the level we should be. There’s no harm in trying to better yourselves, and this is the perfect place to start.”

  I try not to see the distaste on Lucas’s face as I study him with a critical eye. Slightly scruffy, wearing his usual jeans and t-shirt, not to mention the tattoos that I always knew would be a bad idea. No, it’s time to shape up and I vow to start with him and style him exactly the same as… Something stops me as I contemplate what I just thought. Do I really want Lucas to be exactly like Liam? What’s happening to me? Five minutes here and I’m doubting my choice in life in favour of something I think I want.

  Lucas just looks at me angrily and storms off with all his rubbish and I shake the disturbing thoughts away and shout after him, “Make sure you put that stuff where I can’t see it.”

  The slamming door is my answer and I look up at the house facing ours in dismay. I hope nobody pic
ked up on Lucas’s petty tantrum. Goodness, whatever will the neighbour’s think?

  By the time the boys come home from school, I have removed every cardboard box from their rooms and put all their belongings away into the cupboard. The house is looking better, there is less clutter, and I’ve even placed a tablecloth on our ring-marked wooden table to hide the evidence.

  The boys look at me in surprise as I smile with what I believe a loving mother looks like and say pleasantly, “How was your day my darlings?”

  Archie just looks at his brother and shrugs, and Billy mutters under his breath, “Weird.”

  They turn to wrench open the fridge door and grab armfuls of food before I shriek, “Stop right there. Put the food back and walk away, immediately. Straight to your rooms and change out of your uniforms. I’ll make you a healthy snack while you do your homework.”

  They just stare at me as if I’ve grown two heads and I say sharply, “Now, if you value your leisure time this evening.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Archie looks confused and I say firmly, “Beginning today, we will behave like a normal family. This is the new normal and if you know what’s best for you, you’ll adopt it with no arguments. Now scoot and do as I say, otherwise there will be no healthy snacks for you to enjoy.”

  They just look at each other and Billy shrugs and heads upstairs to his room, closely followed by his brother.

  Feeling some sense of victory, I turn and open the fridge in pursuit of a healthy snack to honour my promise and my heart sinks. There isn’t one.

  Chocolate, cold sausages, some milk past its best and a mouldy piece of brie. Where are the healthy homemade, lovingly prepared, muesli bars that would look good next to a fruit smoothie? Come to think of it, where is the fruit in this place because frankly my fridge is a disgrace?

  Sighing, I reach for the biscuit tin and lay out two rich tea biscuits each and pour them a glass of water, resolving to fix this first thing tomorrow morning by doing a large shop.

  Lucas heads back and rolls his eyes. “What’s got into you, the boys think you’ve been abducted by aliens? You know, Esme, if I thought moving here would make you into a snob, I would never have agreed. This isn’t you - us. Stop trying to be something you’re not.”

  I feel the anger bubbling up and snap, “How do you know I’m not? Maybe I’ve always wanted to be more than the woman I became. Perhaps I want to better us as a family and make us reach our full potential. There’s nothing wrong with that, Lucas, just think about it and you’ll know I’m talking sense.”

  “What’s for tea?” He shrugs off my comments as if they’re not worth considering and I seethe inwardly and say pompously, “Supper tonight is chicken carbonara with garlic bread.”

  He groans and I turn my back on him. One step at a time because my offering tonight will be the last ready meal I buy. From now on I will beat these women at their own game and become some sort of perfect housewife, wife and mother and I’m going to do it while I look for part time work to pay for it all.

  * * *

  Later that night as I close the curtains, something makes me look across at the house behind us. The shutters are closed as usual and the window open. The house is always in darkness, I expect that, but tonight something is different. Tonight, one shutter hasn’t been closed properly and I can see a small sliver of light shining through the slats. I don’t turn away and just look a little harder, but I can’t see a thing, just the light. Somebody’s there, it’s obvious. I wonder who they are, and maybe I should try and find out. We are neighbours, after all, and I know just what excuse I will use when I go round there.

  Chapter 10

  Jasmine

  “Babe, where are my glasses?”

  “Where they always are, on the side in your study.”

  I turn back and stare at the computer screen, feeling the bile rise in my throat. Vincent Debruges stares back at me with the cold eyes of a sexual predator. He gives me the creeps and I feel physically sick every time I meet him. I begged my boss to find someone else, but he was adamant it had to be me. I’m not stupid, I know he’s had it in for me since I arrived. Word is, he wanted the position filled by his buddy from university but the powers that be wanted a woman to balance their diversity levels. It’s no wonder I have to work extra hard to gain any approval from the men I work with because they just look at me as a ticked box – a statistic that prevents their company from adverse publicity at a later date.

  Sighing, I try to study the case as if my eyes are a microscope looking for ways to plead his case. It’s obvious he’s guilty, from the evidence taken from the victims and the video evidence from the children involved. Two of the children were from his own family and the hurt and betrayal in the eyes of them and both parents will live with me to my dying day. I hope I lose this case and the bastard gets three life sentences and never gets out. I hope this man pays the price in an extremely violent way in prison and I hope he suffers because what he did to those poor children will affect them and everyone who knows about it to their dying day.

  The door opens softly and Liam moves behind me and I relax as the familiar scent of whisky and tobacco fills my senses. “Come to bed.”

  I lean back as he massages my shoulders and his breath fans my neck as he gently nips at the side causing me to melt. If I had one wish right now, it would be to do exactly as he says, but I don’t have that luxury because this case is too important to let slide, so I say with bitterness, “You know I can’t.”

  He increases the pressure and I moan gently as he runs his fingers under my top and strokes my skin like a favourite pet. He spins the office chair to face him and drops to his knees, taking my lips in his and demanding entrance. Clasping my head, he punishes me with his tongue, tying mine with his and demonstrating that ‘no’ is not an option. It never was when it came to him, which is why we’re here today.

  He pushes my skirt up with his other hand and gently traces a path to my thigh and as if by magic, my legs fall apart as easily as they always have – for him.

  Yes, I can deny Liam Davis nothing and never could, and even the thought of failure makes no difference at all as I allow him to pull me from my chair and against his hard body.

  As Liam gets what he wants as always, Vincent De Bruges stares out from the computer screen, a silent reminder that my life’s not perfect and probably never will be.

  No amount of coffee will keep me awake and with a sinking feeling, I slip one of my pills into my mouth and take a sip of cool water from the fridge. I worked until 3am and it’s now 5. Two hours of a fitful sleep before I leave for London and another day spent trying to build a guilty man into an innocent one. Liam is still sleeping and I wonder how he does it. Nothing fazes him, he just carries on regardless and always seems to land on his feet. A quick shag in my office was as much attention as I could give him yesterday and I know his patience will soon run thin. Liam is, and always was, an extremely sexual man and likes it regularly and won’t take a simple ‘no’ for an answer.

  Briefly, I watch him sleep and my heart settles. It was worth it; it was all worth it because of him - this house and our new life. Once this case is over, I will book us a much-needed holiday and indulge in two glorious weeks with the man I love. They owe me the time off and Liam never has to worry about that as he is the boss of the building company he owns on the outskirts of Brighton. Business is good and money is no object, time though is scarce and I vow to make a little more of it for him because if I don’t, I’m under no illusions I could lose him.

  As soon as I’m showered, dressed and fed, I grab my briefcase and laptop and head outside. Flicking the electronic device to my BMW, I climb into the sports car and shiver slightly as my bare legs hit the leather surface of the seats. The mornings are crisp and cold and yet it’s still summer and as the sun warms the air as the day goes on, the last thing I need is warm clothing to make me uncomfortable.

  The sun is rising majestically in the sky, bathing th
e dawn in a rosy glow, and I take a moment to snap the pink sky that proves what a miracle worker Nature is. Nothing can compare to her mastery, and I love that I get to see her at her best before the day takes over.

  All around the development, the inhabitants sleep and the shuttered windows hide their occupants behind them. I always envy them their safe, warm beds as I start the commute to my office in London.

  Life would be so much easier if I worked from home, or not at all, as is the case for most of the women here. Marriage and babies, the perfect home and a loving husband, how I used to turn my nose up at that, now I realise its power because as it turns out, I want nothing more.

  As I back out from the driveway, my heart sinks as I realise that when I return the sun will be setting. It will be a different photograph I take and one that shows I’ve missed out on another day spent in suburbia, living the life I always dreamt of. However, that will have to be put on hold until I am established in a company many would kill to work at. Hammers and Goldstein, a law firm in the prestigious Canary Wharf and well known in its field. I am one of several solicitors working on this case and today we have a meeting with Geoffrey Monroe, the Barrister in charge of defending our despicable client.

  Geoffrey Monroe is very good at his job and any information we feed him better be factual and researched impeccably because he will strip it bare and call out any mistakes before morning coffee.

  I can’t be the person who fails in that roomful of men, all waiting for the inevitable to happen. I know they will scrutinise my work more closely and reserve their harshest criticism for whatever I present. It’s always been the same and I can’t see it changing in the foreseeable future, but I am determined to make it. I’ll show them and I’ll show them well.

  As I make my way to the end of our little street, I stop at the junction to check the road is clear. It always is because nobody else leaves at 5.30am every day, but today I must wait because a black car is crawling towards me and I look with interest. I know that car.