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

by M J Hardy

  “What’s going on?”

  Owen pokes his head around the door and sees the screen and his eyes widen. “Wow, let me see.”

  “Shut it down at once, Ryan, I won’t tell you again.”

  Luckily, Ryan knows better than to push his luck as Owen cries, “I never saw it, what is it, are there girls on it?”

  “Owen, go to your room and don’t breathe a word about any of this, do you hear me?”

  “But...”

  “Owen!!!”

  I yell at him so loudly the neighbours must hear me and he slams the door behind him, shouting, “I hate my life.”

  I glare at Ryan angrily. “Now look what you’ve done, he’ll be in one of his moods and I’ll be the one who has to deal with it as usual. Now, clean up this room and I want to see the colour of this carpet in exactly thirty minutes time, while I think about your punishment.”

  I storm out before he has a chance to argue and feel my nerves reach breaking point. I suppose I’m so angry with him I don’t even register what I saw. In fact, I don’t give it a second thought at all, explaining it away as just what I said. A photographer’s studio. No, the most important thing on my mind is discovering that my eldest son has learned nothing at all. He’s still at it and now I have serious concerns for his mental health. We need advice and fast.

  If I thought Adrian would be any help at all, I was deluded because as soon as I fill him in, he is more interested in what Ryan found than the fact his son has broken the law—again.

  “It’s all a bit weird if you ask me, maybe we should call the police.”

  “And tell them what exactly, Adrian? That our son is secretly filming the neighbours and we discovered what appears to be a sex room in the house behind us. No, that is most definitely not an option because this is something that stops now. You must lay down the law to your son and confiscate that computer of his. He can’t get away with it again because if he continues, he will end up on the sex offenders register and be somebody’s bitch in Pentonville prison. Deal with it, Adrian, or I will.”

  Adrian knows better than to say another word and leaves me fuming while he heads off to deal with our out-of-control son. As soon as he leaves the room, I sit with my head in my hands and try to get my breathing under control. Not again, please God, not again.

  I can’t help the memory return as I remember why we moved here in the first place. A fresh start, new beginnings, and as far away from Norfolk as possible because Adrian’s new job was not by chance. He applied for the transfer for a very good reason—Ryan.

  I will never forget that night when Sarah Havilland’s parents came around with harmful words and viscous expressions. It turned out that Ryan had been secretly filming their daughter in her room at night and had uploaded the video to his phone and was showing his friends in the playground. It was all around the school and they assured me they would have no hesitation in calling the police and prosecuting him for everything under the sun unless he deleted the video and issued an apology.

  If I thought it strange that her parents weren’t taking it further, I didn’t dwell on it. My only concern was Ryan, and as the weeks went by, the fallout from the incident didn’t diminish. He now had a reputation that followed him, and it was hard to shake. What was once a popular student turned into a recluse, a loner, and so we decided to leave.

  I thought he had learned his lesson. I thought we were over this, but now it’s all come back to bite us because it appears that Ryan learned nothing at all. The fact he even showed me makes me wonder about his sanity. Does he really not know that this is wrong?

  Then again, what about his discovery? I know what I saw, and that was sinister to the extreme. I shudder to think what’s going on there and wonder what else is going on around me that I don’t know about.

  Chapter 18

  Nancy

  I don’t think I slept a wink all night. I resented Adrian for falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and even my sleep spray did little to stop my mind from racing. It’s happening again, this time it’s serious. I know the last one was, but this means we may have to take action because what if Ryan’s right, what if it is a sex house? It’s a disaster and I must do something to stop it immediately before it escalates.

  The only person I can trust with this is Jasmine. I’m sure she’ll know what to do, even it means telling a few white lies to get Ryan off the hook. She deals with the law and wouldn’t look kindly on his hobby and yet she’s the one who can stop this, I just have to trust my judgement on this.

  As always, she’s left for work before I even boil the kettle in the morning, and so I’m resigned to sending her a quick text instead.

  * * *

  Nancy: Hey, are you free for a drink later, just the two of us? I have something I need to run by you. It shouldn’t take long.

  * * *

  It takes a while for her to reply, but it comes when I finish my morning Pilates.

  * * *

  Jasmine: Sure, I’m back around 7pm. Why don’t you come over and we can chat while I fix dinner?

  * * *

  I’m not sure how I manage to concentrate the rest of the day, and I spend most of it baking to distract my attention. I hear Esme yelling at her boys and pray to God they don’t end up like Ryan. It’s a strange world we now live in that nobody gave me the manual to. My children know and do things I couldn’t possibly comprehend, and that scares me more than anything. How can I police their activities when I don’t know what they are? They are always five steps ahead of me and I’m floundering in a world I know nothing about. I can’t even download a playlist on iTunes and need Ryan or Owen to help me, so what chance do I stand at monitoring their online activity?

  Sometimes I wish the Internet had never been invented and children were made to communicate face to face and actually leave their rooms for once. Both of my boys spend more time incarcerated than your average prisoner, and I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve nagged Ryan to get a part-time job, but he informed me he earned more online than any employer could ever pay him. When I asked what it was, he mumbled something about affiliate links and gaming, and I zoned out immediately. If he has money, he spends it on more computer games and software, and I don’t have a clue what he does when he’s locked in his room.

  Owen is much the same, although he does at least have a couple of friends he plays football with occasionally. I am fearful for this generation because I’m not sure how they will survive in the actual world.

  Nobody appears to want to work these days, just post pictures and revel in the likes and comments. The mere mention of a job in an insurance company, or learning a trade, causes their eyes to glaze over and all the answer I get is a patronising shake of the head and a slight smirk. Yes, I know nothing about this brave new world, but I do know one thing. What’s going on in the house with the pretty pink door is not normal.

  Armed with freshly baked flapjacks and a bottle of Prosecco, I knock on Jasmine and Liam’s door at ten past seven. Jasmine opens it looking business-like in her smart navy suit and silk blouse. She looks tired though and I feel bad for disturbing her but she smiles sweetly and says with relief, “Thank god, you brought food.”

  She takes my offering eagerly and stuffs a whole slice of flapjack into her mouth and groans with appreciation. “I think I love you, Nancy. Will you become my live-in lodger and feed me 24/7”?

  Liam ventures out of his office and seizes one for himself. “Thank god for neighbours, you’re welcome anytime but only with food.”

  As I follow Jasmine to her kitchen, it strikes me it’s just like the showroom we viewed when we looked around the development. Nothing is out of place and pristine, and I wonder if they actually use any of this stuff. Jasmine gestures to the nearby bar stool and reaches for the Prosecco. “Take a seat and I’ll pour us all a glass of fizz. It’s been a hell of a day and I need this more than calories at the moment.”

  As she pours us a glass, I feel bad as I see the tir
ed lines around her bloodshot eyes and the worry on her face. “Bad day?”

  She nods sadly. “It was a pig of a day, actually. I had a meeting with our client and he gives me the creeps. A pervert of the worst kind and not even sorry for what he did. He thinks it’s our job to make his case and get him off scot free, and I suppose it is. I don’t have to like it though—or him.”

  She shivers and takes a large slug of the Prosecco, and for the first time since I met her, I feel a little sorry for her. I always envied Jasmine and Liam. They appear to have the perfect marriage. Totally in lust with each other and living the dream. A nice house, amazing jobs and no worries. Not like Adrian and me, where the passion in our relationship died out years ago. Sex is once a week in the missionary position, followed by separate showers and a floor length nightie. I’m guessing Jasmine wouldn’t be seen dead in one of my nighties and probably has a vast wardrobe full of sexy outfits to tempt her husband, who has every reason to look smug most of the time.

  How I wish I was Jasmine and how I wish Adrian was Liam.

  I suppose I’ve developed a bit of a crush on my charismatic neighbour. He is devastatingly handsome, well dressed, loaded with money and a decent guy to boot. He’s funny, provides good conversation and appears caring and attentive. Adrian, by comparison, appears middle-aged and boring and I don’t find him interesting anymore.

  Jasmine looks at me keenly and says bluntly, “What’s the problem?”

  “How do you know it’s a problem?”

  “Because I read people and you’re nervous as hell. Whatever it is, you can tell me and know it won’t go any further. It’s something I take very seriously, my moral code, that is, and I want to help—if I can.”

  My shoulders sag and I notice Jasmine fix Liam with a look that has him backing out of the room with a jovial, “Well, somebody here needs to do some work. Let me know when you’re ready to order takeout and I’ll take care of it.”

  “Takeout?”

  Jasmine grins. “At least we eat when it’s takeout night. In fact, only Tuesdays and Thursdays aren’t. Then Liam cooks.”

  She laughs and I raise my glass to hers. “Respect.”

  She nods and then says again more firmly, “Go on then.”

  Setting my glass down, I sigh and say sadly, “It’s Ryan. He’s found out some information that I’m not sure is ethical, but I can’t let it slide.”

  “What is it?”

  Jasmine looks interested and I lower my voice.

  “You know what kids are like his age and he embraces the technical world a little to keenly for my liking. Well, to cut a long story short, he has a drone that he likes to play with occasionally.”

  I almost can’t look at Jasmine because I’m sure she’s horrified and probably wondering where else he points his equipment, but I carry on, regardless.

  “Anyway, it turns out that he filmed one of the rooms in that strange house that backs onto Esme.”

  “The one with the pretty pink door?”

  She leans forward and I can tell I have her full attention.

  “Yes. Well, he has footage of one of the bedrooms and it’s a little disturbing.”

  “Good god, they didn’t decorate it in flocked paper, did they? That is shocking.”

  Jasmine laughs and I can tell she is joking to lighten the mood that has darkened quicker than daylight in winter.

  “The thing is, Jasmine, it wasn’t decorated at all. In fact, the only things in there were a large bed covered in a black sheet with no other bedding. There was a camera on a tripod set up at the foot of it and a wooden chair to the side.”

  “Whoa, now you’re talking.”

  Jasmine laughs and pours us another glass. “I think I love your son; this is gossip gold. Carry on.”

  I stare at her in surprise and can’t help saying, “But he’s invaded their privacy, it’s against the law.”

  “It doesn’t look as if they care about the law. I mean, that guy was seriously weird when I saw him but this, I knew something was going on.”

  “What do you think—is going on, I mean?”

  “Who knows but whatever it is, it’s not your average evening in suburbia.”

  “So, what do you think, should we report it or something?”

  Jasmine leans back and considers her response. “I’m guessing they could explain that away easily enough and the person who has the explaining to do will be Ryan. No, I think we need to tread carefully and do some investigative work ourselves. Leave it with me and I’ll run a few checks and see if I can find out the history of the purchase. That may help give us the answers we need, but until then, keep your eyes open and an ear to the ground. If there is anything sinister going on, we’re on the case.”

  Our conversation switches to gossiping about the other residents, mainly the Wickham’s and by the time they’re ready to order their food, I’m feeling a little better.

  Thank goodness for Jasmine, I can leave this in her capable hands and carry on with my mundane life free from drama and intrigue. The only thing I now have to worry about is making sure that Ryan keeps it legal in the future.

  Chapter 19

  Lola

  All day I’ve waited, my hands cuffed and my heart fearful. I can’t even eat because I feel so sick and just trying to use the bathroom is a feat in itself as I try to get used to having my wrists bound together. Through it all, the thing I’m scared of the most is my father. What’s happening, what’s going on, and I’m afraid that I’ll never see him again?

  When I hear the garage door lift, my heart rate increases tenfold. He’s here. This time he may not be distracted. Whatever he had planned won’t be to my liking, that’s definite. Just thinking of the look in his eye when he left makes me shiver inside.

  However, as the footsteps on the stairs approach, I sense a different tread. It’s not him. They are lighter, different somehow, and now I’m hopeful and worried at the same time. Who is it?

  The key turns in the lock and the door inches open, cautiously, carefully and slowly.

  A hand reaches around the door and I stare in surprise at nails that are painted bright pink and my heart fills with hope as an attractive woman steps into the room.

  She looks at me cowering on the bed in fright and a look of distaste flickers across her face, before she shakes her head and looks at me with an unreadable expression.

  As I stare back, I see a woman around the same age as Mr Evans, mid-forties perhaps and immaculately dressed in a white trouser suit. Her bleached blonde hair is tied in a ponytail and her green eyes stare at me with curiosity but not surprise.

  Closing the door behind her carefully, she says in a slightly husky voice, “He said you were young.”

  I say nothing and wait for her to tell me who she is and she heads towards me and lifts my wrists and inserts a key into the lock. As the handcuffs fall open, I see deep red marks where they gripped my wrist and she purses her lips. “Stupid idiot, he’s damaged you.”

  I stare at her in surprise as she rubs each one in turn and says as if to herself, “I’ll pick up some antiseptic cream when I’m at the store.”

  Then she looks around her critically and wrinkles her nose. “This place stinks. Has the bed ever been changed?”

  Finding my voice, I whisper, “No.”

  “Ugh. Typical man, live like pigs and act like them too. Never mind, darling, a woman’s in charge, for now, anyway, so standards are about to rise.”

  “Who are you?” My voice is hoarse, courtesy of hours of crying tears that never seem to dry up, and she smiles with a slight twist to her painted red lips. “Charlie’s wife, Donna Evans.”

  I stare at her in shock as she smiles tightly. “Yes, the monster has a normal life outside of this one. We have a home, two cars and a villa in Marbella. This business is kind to us, and now you’re our newest employee.”

  She laughs and yet it has no humour in it.

  “Charlie was called away and sent me to babysit. I’m not sure
how long he’ll be, but I’m staying until I hear otherwise.”

  I just stare at her and she sighs. “Go and run yourself a bath. I need to strip the bed and give you some clean linen to make it up. This place isn’t fit for a dog, and I’ll be having words with my husband about this.”

  She stares at me with a hard glint in her eye and says sourly, “If you think I’m the soft option, think again. Charlie’s given me instructions to hold you here by force if necessary. He wanted me to tie you up until he returns, but I’m better than that. You be a good girl and you get your privileges. Try to escape and you’ll spend the rest of your stay bound and gagged in the cupboard. Do you understand?”

  I nod, prepared to agree to anything she says if it means I get an easier ride, and she nods with satisfaction. “Go on then, scoot and drop your clothes, I’ll run them through the machine.”

  I hesitate and she snaps, “Hurry up, I haven’t got all day. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  My face burns as I remove my clothes and stand awkwardly in the centre of the room. She looks at me long and hard and says critically. “You’re ok I guess, but your tits are a little small for most men’s liking.”

  She laughs a hollow sound that tells me this is no laughing matter and says cruelly, “Mind you, they don’t care as long as they get their pleasure another way. Don’t worry, darling, after the first few times you’ll get the hang of it.”

  “Hang of what?” I think I already know but want her to spell it out and she laughs. “Sex, honey. You will be put to work as a prostitute and sold to men for money. Our money. In return you get fed and housed and a bed to sleep in. When your father’s debt is paid, you can leave, but just in case you’re wondering when that’s likely to be, the interest adds up to a lifetime. Accept your fate, darling, because this is as good as it gets. Now go and wash yourself and think about how to accept the situation and make the best of it.”