The Child Next Door: An unputdownable psychological thriller with a brilliant twist

by Shalini Boland

  The school receptionist, Moira, is on the desk as usual and she fusses over Daisy while I sign in. She waves me inside the main building, but not before I give her one of the cupcakes I picked up from my favourite bakery on the way here.

  I walk down the silent corridor, my shoes click-clacking on the polished concrete floor. Daisy’s eyes are wide, drawn this way and that, fascinated by the paintings on the wall, bewildered by the unfamiliar echoing brightness. My feet take me automatically to the staff room. I’m not expecting anyone to be in there yet, but I smile when I see who’s sitting at a table at the far end of the room. It’s my head of department, Tim Barnes. He’s writing in his planner, a look of fierce concentration on his face.

  ‘What are you doing skulking in here, Mr Barnes?’ I say in my most serious voice.

  He looks up with a frown before his face melts into a smile. ‘Kirstie! And… is this the new sprog?’ His familiar Scottish lilt warms my heart.

  ‘No! Never call her that. She’s my angel is what she is.’ I give him a mock glare.

  He laughs. ‘She’s a bonny wee thing, I’ll give you that.’ He pushes his reading glasses up onto his head, gets to his feet and makes his way over to us. Tim looks like the stereotypical image everyone has of a school teacher – brown corduroy trousers, tweed jacket with leather elbow patches, greying hair, sardonic expression. But he once told me that his partner, Sebastian, bought him a set of ‘teacher-ish’ clothes as an ironic present when he first qualified. Tim thought it was hilarious and wore them on his first day as a dare. He ended up liking them so much, he thought it would be fun to keep up the teacherly image.

  ‘So this is Daisy,’ he says, putting a finger under her chin and staring at her in fascination.

  ‘You remembered her name, then.’

  ‘Well, if I can remember the names of over a thousand teenagers, I think I can remember the name of my favourite person’s first born.’

  ‘Aw, I’m your favourite person?’

  ‘You might be.’ He winks. ‘She looks just like you.’

  ‘D’you think so?’

  ‘She’s your mini-me.’

  I grin like an idiot. ‘Everyone else thinks she looks like Dominic, so I’m happy she got a few of my genes, too.’

  ‘Sorry we haven’t been over to see you yet,’ Tim says.

  ‘No problem. You and Seb should definitely come over for dinner one evening.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘But it’ll probably be a takeaway,’ I add. ‘My multi-tasking skills seem to have deserted me since having this one. I can’t cope with cooking anything more complicated than ready-made pasta or jacket potatoes.’ This was a good idea. I’m already beginning to feel like my old self again. The funny, smart woman I’ve always been. Not the paranoid, anxious, wretched creature I’ve been impersonating for the past week. Where has the real me been hiding?

  I spend the next fifteen minutes showing Daisy off to all my colleagues. She’s handed around like a parcel, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She’ll probably be exhausted for the rest of the day. So will I. I’ve got out of the habit of talking this much.

  Tim clears his throat and nudges me in the ribs with his elbow as Stephen Parkfield comes into the staff room. Like the subjects of an emperor, we all cower a little under Parkfield’s all-encompassing gaze, his tall frame taking up more than just physical space.

  ‘Kirstie,’ Parkfield says, smoothing down his tie. ‘Nice to see you here with, ah, your little one.’

  He’s obviously forgotten her name. I give him an awkward smile. ‘Just brought Daisy in to say hello to everyone. I won’t stay long.’

  ‘Very good, very good.’ His eyes sweep the room again, like he’s bored of us already.

  ‘Would you like a cupcake?’ I proffer the cardboard box.

  He peers in the carton at the remaining cakes. ‘Yes, thank you. I’ll take it into my office.’ He chooses a chocolate one and makes a swift exit. I know he’s not happy about the disruption I’ve caused by bringing my daughter in. He probably wanted to give his usual back-to-school staff room pep talk, but I’ve scuppered his plan.

  I scan the room and see that Daisy is currently being cooed over by Madame Cambron, the head of languages, and Danielle, the drama teacher. Tim murmurs something in my ear.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘I said, you know this is Parkfield’s last term here?’

  ‘Really?’ I can’t hide my pleasure at the news. ‘I was going to ask you about that actually. His house has just sold so I did wonder if he was leaving.’

  ‘No more living next door to the boss.’

  ‘I know, right.’ I grin.

  ‘Caroline’s taking over until they can find a replacement.’ Caroline is the deputy head, a far more approachable member of staff than our present leader.

  ‘Where’s he going?’ I ask, my eyes trying to ascertain Daisy’s whereabouts.

  ‘Not sure,’ Tim replies. ‘The latest rumour is he’s got a job at a school in Yorkshire, but no one’s actually asked him outright, and he hasn’t volunteered the information.’

  My mind isn’t on the conversation any more, I’ve lost sight of Daisy. Madame Cambron is pouring herself a cup of tea, and Danielle is rummaging around in her handbag. Neither of them has her. A tight, panicky sensation begins to claw at my throat.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Tim asks. ‘You’ve gone a bit pale.’

  ‘Can you see Daisy anywhere?’ My vision has begun to blur and I hear the wobble in my voice, betraying my fears. I can’t overreact. Not after what happened yesterday. I force myself to take a breath and try not to panic. But it’s not working. I feel as though I’m being sucked into a deep, dark tunnel.

  Tim narrows his eyes at me. ‘Kirstie? Are you okay?’ he repeats.

  ‘I can’t see my daughter anywhere.’ I stumble away from him and begin weaving my way through the crowded staff room, shouldering my way past my oblivious colleagues, who are happily eating cake and laughing, with no idea of my increasing fear. I’m such an idiot. How could I have let her out of my sight for a second?

  ‘Kirstie,’ Tim calls out from behind me.

  But I ignore him. I have to find Daisy. Anyone could have snuck in here and taken her. They could have followed me all the way from my house, waiting for my back to turn for a moment before snatching her away. After yesterday’s scare, I should have been more careful. Everyone’s faces blur and I have to stop myself from yelling at all of them to stop what they’re doing and help me find my child.

  ‘Kirstie!’ Tim grabs my shoulder, but I shrug him off. I’m losing it. My breaths are shallow gasps and sweat is forming in my armpits, on my top lip, sliding down my back and breastbone. I’m going to scream or faint any minute.

  Eighteen

  ‘Kirstie, stop.’

  I try to shake Tim off once more, but this time he has hold of my arm, stopping my manic progression through the staff room.

  ‘Daisy’s over there,’ he says gently.

  At his words, I whirl around, hardly able to dare believe it.

  ‘She’s there,’ he says, ‘look, by the window with Caroline.’

  I follow his line of sight to see my daughter sitting contentedly on the deputy head’s knee while she chats away to her. I realise some of my colleagues are already beginning to stare at me with bewildered looks on their faces, but I couldn’t care less what they think. I make my way over to my daughter and have to force myself not to snatch Daisy out of Caroline’s arms.

  ‘She’s adorable Kirstie. I just want to kidnap her and take her home with me,’ she jokes.

  But it’s not a joke that I find amusing. Thankfully the bell goes and everyone begins to gather their things. Caroline stands and reluctantly hands Daisy back to me while talking about something to do with GCSE results. I nod and fake smile without hearing what she’s saying, but I manage to squeeze out a strangled goodbye before turning my attention back to my daughter.

  ‘Kirstie,’ Tim says with a fr
own, ‘what just happened?’

  ‘I think I need to sit down for a sec.’ I plonk myself down on the battered sofa. I attempt to pull myself together, get my breathing under control. Tim must think I’m some kind of madwoman.

  He sits next to me. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Fine,’ I lie. ‘Just a bit over-protective, and tired. New baby, no sleep.’ I roll my eyes in an attempt to be light-hearted. ‘Hadn’t you better get going? You’ll be late for your next lesson.’

  ‘It’s Year Twelve. They’ll be fine for a couple of minutes. I’m more concerned about you. Tell me what’s up. What made you panic like that?’

  I take a breath. I can’t tell him about all my paranoia. About the voice in the monitor, my odd neighbour Martin, my obsessive checking that the house is secure. My terror that someone out there wants to take Daisy. And even if I did feel comfortable enough to say anything, now is not the time. Tim has to go to his class. I force myself to my feet. ‘Honestly, Tim, I’m absolutely fine. Must have been an allergic reaction to the crap instant coffee.’ I plaster a grin to my face.

  ‘It is pretty bad coffee,’ Tim replies. ‘But you can always tell me if there’s something going on. I’m a good listener.’

  ‘I know you are.’ I drag my gaze from Daisy’s face to give Tim what I hope is a reassuring smile. ‘But I’m fine.’

  ‘Okay, well as long as you’re all right…’

  ‘I’m great. Honestly. Go.’

  ‘Okay, I’m going. It was lovely to see you both. Daisy is beautiful.’ I rise to my feet and he gives me a hug. ‘Call me any time.’ Finally he leaves.

  Standing in the empty staffroom, clutching a newly grizzling Daisy, I’m relieved to have her back in my arms. So why then am I trembling? Why is my heart still thumping out of my chest? A wave of something else sweeps across me – is it fear? Loneliness? I’m not sure. It’s a sense of being apart from everyone else. Of feeling different. Separate. I don’t want to be here any more, but I don’t want to go home either.

  I try to think of any other places I could go for the rest of the day until Dom gets home. I would have visited my parents, but they’ve got Marjory and whatshisface over for lunch. I wish my brother lived closer. I always used to get on with him, but Rory left home as soon as he was eighteen. Wimborne was never enough for him. He couldn’t wait to get away. He lives in London now, an eternal bachelor, still pubbing and clubbing in his thirties, showing no signs of wanting to settle down with a family. It pains me to realise it, but we’ve grown apart.

  I could mooch around the shops in town, but it would be too busy, too exposed, too risky. Normally, a walk in the countryside would lift my spirits, but if there’s some nutter out there who wants to take Daisy, then we would be alone, vulnerable. I can’t go to Mel’s, as I’m still unsure how things are between us after the money thing. And I’m mortified about throwing her and all the neighbours into a panic yesterday when I thought Daisy had been snatched. I guess there are other friends I could call on, but I feel too out of sorts to be good company.

  No. I have no choice but to go home. And the thought fills me with dread.

  * * *

  As I pull into the cul-de-sac, I see Mel’s car parked in her driveway. Guilt needles me. I really should thank her for organising the search party yesterday. I don’t even bother to drive over to my house. Instead, I pull up on the road outside her house, behind someone’s brand-new BMW X5.

  I ring the doorbell, Daisy in my arms. The clip-clop of Mel’s footsteps make me smile, but when she opens the door and sees me, her face drops a little. Is she still mad at me about the money? A flare of anger sparks in my chest.

  ‘Kirstie,’ she says. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine,’ I lie.

  ‘And how is this little troublemaker?’ She touches Daisy’s nose with her forefinger.

  ‘Daisy’s fine. It’s her mummy who’s been losing the plot.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. You’re not losing the plot.’

  ‘So you don’t think I overreacted yesterday?’

  ‘Of course I don’t think you overreacted. I told Dom he was a prat for not leaving you a note.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Yeah, when you went back inside with Daisy, Dom came round and apologised to everyone for the misunderstanding. I had a go at him for putting you through all that worry.’

  I’d been imagining them gossiping about how unreasonably I’d acted. It’s a relief to hear that Mel doesn’t think I did anything wrong.

  ‘I came round, and left you voice messages,’ she says, giving me a fake glare, ‘and texts, to tell you not to worry. When you didn’t answer, I thought you were mad at me.’

  ‘Sorry, Mel. I’m not mad at you. I just felt like an idiot. All I’ve wanted to do is hide away from the neighbours in shame.’

  ‘Daft cow.’ She kisses Daisy. ‘Your mummy is a silly billy. What shall we do with her?’

  ‘Just wondered if you fancied a bit of company?’

  ‘Oh, uh…’

  ‘Don’t worry if you’re busy. I just popped in on the off-chance.’

  ‘I would have loved that.’ She squeezes my forearm. ‘But I’ve got someone round at the moment.’

  ‘Ooh,’ I say, suddenly intrigued. ‘New man?’ I mouth. ‘That his BMW outside?’

  She shakes her head, red-faced.

  Mel doesn’t ‘do’ embarrassed, so now I’m really intrigued.

  ‘If you must know,’ she says in a low voice, ‘it’s Tamsin.’

  I’m not sure if I’d heard her correctly. ‘Tamsin?’

  She nods and grimaces.

  ‘As in, Tamsin-who-slept-with-Dom Tamsin?’ I ask, narrowing my eyes.

  ‘I know, I know. She got my number off Penny and asked if we could meet for a coffee.’

  ‘So you said yes?’ I hear the accusing tone in my voice, but honestly, it feels like a betrayal.

  ‘Sorry, Kirst. I couldn’t think of an excuse quick enough.’

  ‘She’s only doing it because she knows you’re my best friend. She wants to piss me off.’

  ‘We’re not at school any more, Kirst.’

  ‘Feels that way sometimes.’

  ‘It’s just a coffee. Why don’t you come and join us? Never know, it might be fun.’ Her eyes twinkle.

  ‘Thanks, but I don’t think so.’ I can picture Tamsin’s face if I walked in right now. She’d be smug and condescending and I just don’t have the strength for that kind of confrontation. Not after everything else that’s gone on this week.

  ‘Okay,’ Mel says, her eyes softening, ‘well, we’ll get together soon, yeah?’

  I try to smile, but the lump in my throat is too big, so it comes out like a weird wide-eyed inhalation.

  Mel gives me an awkward hug and I turn away as she closes the door. I guess I’ll just have to go home.

  * * *

  Daisy and I spend all afternoon and evening locked up tight inside our house. I’m trying not to think about my best friend and my arch-enemy over the road chatting together, but the thought of them is making me insecure. Will Tamsin try to turn Mel against me? Probably. Tamsin has made it quite clear she hates me. While Daisy naps, I plonk myself on the sofa and open Facebook on my phone. I go onto Mel’s page and see that she’s friends with Tamsin Price – of course she is.

  I click on Tamsin’s name and it takes me to her page, where I see a photo of a smiling Tamsin on a tropical beach drinking cocktails with friends. I get an uncomfortable jolt as I notice that her status says ‘single’. Scrolling down, I see that she’s friends with all my school friends. All except me. I scroll further and see various posts where she’s out with friends in various wine bars and coffee shops. Going back further, she posts about her divorce, saying she’s ‘finally free’.

  Tamsin Price seemed a lot less threatening when I thought she was still happily married. Now that she’s newly single, does that mean she could be a threat to my marriage? Could she be after Dom again?

  I
don’t even know why I’m looking at this stuff. I should just ignore Tamsin bloody Price. But it’s hard when she’s back in Wimborne and in contact with our group of friends, but purposely excluding me. It’s even worse that she isn’t with her husband any more. But just because she’s single doesn’t mean she’s a marriage wrecker, does it? I wonder if Mel knows that Tamsin has split up from her husband. She must know. So why didn’t she tell me?

  This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t give Tamsin another moment’s thought. She’s just some annoying woman I used to be friends with, that’s all. I close Facebook and check my messages instead. I have a new WhatsApp notification. Looks like Penny is organising a Christmas dinner for all of us. It seems a bit early to be arranging Christmas already, but like she says at the top of the page, all the good places get booked up early. I realise I’m looking forward to it. Scrolling through the group chat, I see that Mel has already replied:

  MEL: Yay, am having a cheeky lunchtime prosecco with Tamsin and we’ll both be there. Can’t wait!

  * * *

  TAMSIN: Mel’s a bad influence, girls. Just saying

  * * *

  PENNY: You two are a nightmare. We’ll have to seat you at opposite ends of the table.

  * * *

  MEL: Noooo! We’re twinnies. Me n Tam were separated at birth.

  My heart sinks at their posts. I know it’s just friendly banter, but I feel so excluded, like I’m already on the outside of my own friendship circle. How can I reply to the chat now? I’ll have to wait until a few other people chime in, so it doesn’t look like I’m trying to gatecrash Tamsin and Mel’s lovefest. This is exactly what I was afraid of. And part of me believes that Tamsin is doing it on purpose. Although, I guess they’re her friends, too.

  With a sick feeling in my throat, I spend the rest of the day trying to distract myself from thoughts of Tamsin and Mel. From thoughts of Martin, and all my worries for Daisy. I attempt to make the time pass more quickly by dozing and watching crappy daytime TV. But the minutes drag, the hours are endless. Daisy fusses, frets and grizzles. I thought she would have a lovely deep sleep after her busy morning, but she is overtired and cranky. I can’t get her to settle. Not with rocking or singing or feeding or any bloody thing.