The Other Side Of The Wall: A Gripping Psychological Thriller

by Andrea Mara

  She sits at the breakfast bar for a moment, trying to straighten out her thoughts. Maybe she’ll message Tom in London. Then again, it couldn’t have been him – he was gone before she was even up yesterday morning, and she’s definitely seen it since then. Hasn’t she? Though there’s no harm in messaging – he’ll be up anyway. She pads back upstairs to get her phone, but no, Tom hasn’t seen the coffee. Fine, tea will do for now.

  Megan is still fast asleep when Sylvia goes in to whisper that it’s morning time. She stretches and opens her eyes, and says she had no bad dreams and there were no monsters in her room. She’s been saying this every morning since she moved into the guest room and Sylvia can’t decide if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. Hopefully the memory of the monster will fade, and she’ll stop bringing it up. For now, Sylvia tells her it’s time to get up and get ready for Montessori.

  Back in her own room, the radio buzzes on before she has time to shush its blare, but Zack sleeps on regardless. The missing child is the top story. She’s been gone for nearly two full weeks now, and it’s the top story every hour. And Sylvia wells up every single time she hears it. God, the thought of losing a child! For a second, she resists the urge to go back in to hug Megan, then gives in. What is it they always say? The days are long but the years are short.

  It’s later than usual when Jane arrives and she’s full of apologies. Sylvia tells her not to worry, it’s no problem at all, then races out to the car to head for the city centre, an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach at every red light. As long as she makes it in before Craig, it’ll be okay. Her start-early-finish-early deal won’t last if he thinks she’s abusing it.

  His car isn’t in the car park when she arrives and inside the lift she feels the knot uncurl when she presses the button for the third floor.

  As the doors close, a hand is shoved in to keep them open.

  Justin. Wonderful.

  “Starting late today?” he asks, assessing her over the top of his glasses.

  “No, no, my childminder just got caught in traffic. Typical – always happens when Tom’s away. Normally I’m in really early. Of course nobody ever notices that.” She gives a little laugh.

  He nods, then without replying takes out his phone.

  Sylvia takes a discreet glance at the screen. He’s looking at stock prices. Oh, for God’s sake! As if he needs to know about stock prices to work in a back-office operations team in Fund Services. No doubt he’ll reel off some fascinating market updates to impress Craig at the management meeting. And why is he still at that meeting now that she’s back? She needs to bring it up with him. The familiar knot returns. She’ll bring it up soon.

  The lift doors open on the third floor and Justin walks out ahead of her.

  “Justin?”

  He turns back.

  “We need to catch up again about the audit prep – I still can’t find those daily reports for January to March. They’re not saved in the folder. Would you know where they are?”

  An impatient frown crosses his face. “They’re there – you’re probably looking in the wrong place. I’ll have a look later if there’s time.”

  He marches off through reception, leaving the door to swing shut behind him. Another lovely day at the office, and she hasn’t even had a coffee yet.

  Thank you, Jane, Sylvia mouths to herself when she spots the chicken broccoli bake in the fridge. There’s far too much for just the kids and herself but it’ll do for tomorrow too. Standing at the kitchen window waiting for the oven to heat, she cradles her tea in her hands and stares out at the garden. Everything is grey this evening – even the grass looks drab and dull in the meagre light that’s made its way through the rainclouds.

  Her eyes drift to the garden wall as her mind drifts to what she saw that night. What she thought she saw that night. It wasn’t a child. Of course it wasn’t. But as time passes, the image in her memory shifts shape and gains clarity – the blurred edges are sharper now, nudging at her night-time thoughts.

  A loud crash shatters the silence. Startled, she drops her tea onto the floor.

  “Megan!” she shouts, and runs through to the sitting room, but Megan is still engrossed in Paw Patrol, and Zack is sitting on the rug.

  Back in the kitchen, she stands in the middle of the floor, but there’s nothing to see. Could it have come from outside? Bailey jumps up from his spot on the patio as soon as her hand touches the back door. As he rushes inside, she goes out to look around the garden, but there’s nothing out of place. The air is heavy and quiet – she’s sure now the noise came from indoors.

  Upstairs, everything is just as she left it this morning – pyjamas stuffed under pillows, hastily made beds, the shoes she changed at the last minute. Standing at the window, her eyes are drawn again like magnets to the garden next door. The bushes and the pond look darker and greyer this evening, but there’s nothing and nobody there.

  Back downstairs, she checks the bathroom and Megan’s old bedroom, then goes into the kitchen. Could she have imagined it?

  Then there’s a pop, much smaller this time, but very real. It’s coming from the oven. Slowly she opens it and finds it covered in glass – and something else. She grabs a tea towel and uses it to pick up one of the objects – a melted coffee capsule. How on earth did they get in there? First things first: she switches off the oven, then tries to sweep out some of the glass with the tea-towel but burns her hand. She cries out, and at the same time Megan comes running in and yanks her shirt, trying to pull her into the sitting room to change the TV channel.

  “Megan, will you let go!” Sylvia shouts, much louder than she intends, and Megan starts to cry. “Oh, for goodness’ sake!” she mutters under her breath, and out loud says, “Megan, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. I’ve burnt my hand – let me put some cold water on it and I’ll be in to you.”

  This causes Megan to cry harder. Sylvia runs to the sink to cool her throbbing hand, cursing her own stupidity, then she turns back to scoop Megan up and calm her down.

  Eventually peace descends and she edges her way back out to the kitchen to assess the situation with the oven. Who put the jar in there – could Jane have done it? Or could she have done it herself, drunk on exhaustion?

  All the capsules are for the bin but, as she’s taking the chicken broccoli out of the fridge, she spots an unopened bottle of white wine. On a day that hasn’t gone terribly well, she’ll take her blessings where she finds them.

  Chapter 6

  Sylvia – Wednesday, August 10th

  Her phone is ringing and she’s rummaging in her handbag but she can’t find it. Jane is still in the doorway, waving with Zack and Megan, and Sylvia knows she’s supposed to wave back – all the parenting gurus would say wave back – but she’s got car keys in her mouth, a coffee on the roof of the car, and she really needs to find her phone. It stops ringing just as she pulls it out. Craig. Damn, why is he ringing so early?

  As she pulls out on the road, Noel from across the road signals at her to stop. Oh Lord, what now? She rolls down the window.

  “Sylvia, I haven’t seen you in a while – how was the holiday?”

  “Good, thanks – we’re back a few weeks now. I’m just on my way in to work . . . ”

  “So, I see your new neighbours moved in.”

  “Yes, they seem very nice – though I’ve only met Sam. The wife is away.”

  “I’d keep an eye on him if I were you. Bit of a player, I’d say.”

  “A player? What do you mean?” Sylvia asks, risking a discreet look at the clock on the dashboard.

  “Ah, just a few little things. I see he has a young lady visiting regularly, and she leaves early the next morning. I never met the wife but I did see her once or twice when I was looking out the window – blonde hair and tall, like a model. This one I’ve seen going in and out is small and dark. Like a dancer – like one of those women who dance around poles.” Noel says all of this with a perfectly straight face.

  Sylvi
a desperately wants to laugh. “Could it be his sister or something?”

  “Not the way they were necking at the front door yesterday morning, no.”

  Necking! She really is going to laugh now. “God, well, that’s interesting. I’d better get on though. Tell Georgia I said hi.”

  Sylvia drives off, wondering exactly how much time Noel spends looking out his window. Funny about Sam next door though. Could he really be having an affair? And the poor wife, oblivious to all of it. Isn’t that what they say – the wife is always the last to know? Could that happen to her – would she know if Tom was cheating? He’s away a lot with work . . . But then again, when he’s home, he’s really home – no late nights in the office or mysterious hotel receipts. And realistically, where would either of them find the time or the energy for an affair?

  At the office, before she has time to hang up her coat, Breeda announces Craig wants to see her. Crap. Dropping her handbag at her desk, she makes her way to his office. At the door, she pauses, then knocks and walks inside.

  The view is the first thing that strikes her every time she’s in there – two walls made almost entirely of glass give a panoramic sweep from the Custom House right down the Liffey.

  Her boss prefers the minimalist approach – the enormous fake-mahogany desk holds nothing more than a laptop, a pen, and a notebook. He’s busy writing when she comes in, and doesn’t look up.

  Sylvia hesitates, then closes the door behind her. Her palm is sweaty. She wipes it on the side of her skirt and stands there, unsure what to do next. Why is he still writing – surely he heard her come in? She clears her throat and finally gets his attention.

  “Sylvia – take a seat.”

  She does, flashing a small smile.

  “We need to talk about the audit. Mervin Kinsella were in touch to say they don’t have your reports yet. I was very clear to everyone about the importance of getting stuff over to them on time. The last thing we need is to be on the backfoot at this stage. So, what’s the hold-up?”

  “Sorry about that – it’s just we seem to be missing the reports from January to March. I’m not sure –”

  “Missing? What do you mean ‘missing’?”

  “Just that they’re not saved on the shared drive. Justin thought they might be in the wrong folder but he and I searched yesterday afternoon and couldn’t find them. I’ve been gathering and sending everything else and we’re on top of that – it’s just those months that are missing. I’m working on it.”

  “Sylvia, this is serious. It’s part of our obligation to keep daily reports. It’s a huge breach if we don’t have them. Did you ask the rest of the team?”

  “Yes, they say they saved them as normal and they can’t understand it. They’re suggesting someone deleted them in error, and I’ve a case opened with IT to investigate. They might have the back-up tapes. But you know how it is – we’re just one request in a long line.”

  “Sylvia, you need to expedite this. Don’t take any bull from IT – get them to prioritise this today. We can’t tell Mervin Kinsella we’ve lost those files – we’ll look like amateurs at best, or worse they’ll think we’re trying to hide something. Get on it, Sylvia.”

  This is evidently her cue to leave and she does, her cheeks burning as she pulls the door shut behind her.

  Justin is at the other end of the open-plan office, hovering over Carla’s desk. Sylvia raises her hand and calls his name, but there’s no reaction. She’s about to try again, then thinks better of it and crosses the floor to him instead.

  “Justin, do you have a minute?”

  Frowning, he looks up. “I’m just in the middle of something here.”

  “That’s fine – when you’re done, could you come in to my office?”

  He looks like he’s about to say no, but can’t think of a good reason. It must grate to be summoned to what was his office for seven months. Now, if he could just put as much effort into finding those missing reports as he does into helping the lovely Carla with God knows what every morning, Sylvia would be a much happier person.

  It’s over an hour later when Justin finally sticks his head into her office. “Did you want something earlier, Sylvia?”

  “Yes, it’s about those missing reports. I’ve been on to IT and they’re going to bump the request up the list. They should be able to trace if they were moved or deleted, and they might have a back-up.”

  Justin straightens up and puts his hands in his pockets. “I doubt they can help – I lost some files last year and they said there was nothing they could do. If they’re deleted, they’re gone.” He shrugs.

  “Do you mean the client contact list you lost last year?”

  “Yeah – there was no way to retrieve it – I had to get the team to put a new one together.”

  “Justin, IT were just fobbing you off. They do that all the time. If it’s not a big deal for us to recreate something, they push back. The only reason they’re making the effort now is because this is from Craig.”

  Justin’s mouth opens then closes again.

  For the first time since her return to work, he has no putdown. If the situation wasn’t so serious, she’d be celebrating.

  “Once IT let us know they’ve got the files, I need you to sit with me to go through them – hopefully there are no holes and it won’t take long.”

  Justin nods and leaves, just as Sylvia’s phone rings. IT have the missing reports already. It’s time to roll up her sleeves.

  “It just doesn’t make sense – there’s a two-million-euro hole in the account for four weeks, then suddenly it’s filled and I can’t see how. Was nobody on your back about the missing money during those four weeks?”

  Justin is sitting beside her at the desk, staring down at the page.

  “I’m trying to remember now,” he says. “There was a lot going on at the time.”

  “But two million? There’s no way that could have gone unnoticed for four weeks. Didn’t you have to send out the reports every day?”

  “Yeah . . . I think maybe that one got categorised as a long-term receivable for a while, so it wasn’t on the version of the report that we were sending out to clients and management.”

  “The version of the report?”

  “We don’t send the full report any more – it’s too detailed. They don’t read it anyway, and it takes ages to talk through everything. So we just send out a summary of the short-term items.”

  “But, Justin, this is huge – did Craig okay it?”

  “I made the decision.” There’s a hint of the familiar belligerence.

  “Right.” Sylvia says nothing for a moment. “So, how did the two-million shortfall get resolved in the end? Was it just in the wrong account and then moved back?”

  “Maybe. I can’t remember now.”

  “Justin, this is really serious – we need to get to the bottom of it before we go to audit. I’m going in to Craig now to let him know there’s a reporting discrepancy, and then I have meetings for the rest of the afternoon – can you take the reports and find out?”

  Nodding, he picks up his notes and leaves her office without looking back.

  The knife slices through the apple over and over, making a noise that even Tom can hear at the other end of the phone.

  “And you won’t believe this – he was gone by the time I got back from my meetings,” Sylvia says, balancing her mobile between her shoulder and her ear. “Biggest issue we’ve had in years, and he doesn’t stay to fix it.”

  “Jesus, that’s pretty bad. There’s a guy in our place like that too. Wants to be the boss but doesn’t want to put in the work. There’s probably someone like that in every office.”

  “I know, and if it’s just that I’m not too worried. But what if he’s covering something up? It might not be laziness this time – it might be fear of being found out.”

  “What – you think it’s not just a reporting error – he’s actually run off with two million and he’s still showing up at work ever
y day?”

  Sylvia smiles into the phone. “No. He’d be long gone if he had that kind of money – living in a harem somewhere or eloping with the lovely Carla to a Bahamian beach. But I’ve been thinking about it all evening – what if he paid out the two million in error and then covered it up? He can’t bear to admit when he makes a mistake – it’s just the kind of thing he’d do.”

  “Ah, there’s no way – surely there are reports and checks in place to stop something like that happening?”

  “Well, yes, there are – but those are the reports that are missing.”

  “Look, there’s not much you can do tonight so don’t be stressing about it – grab Justin first thing tomorrow morning and lock him in an office till he figures it out – that’s what I’d do. How are the kids?”

  “Kids are good, fast asleep. I’m going up myself now – too tired for TV and Zack will be up in the night no doubt.”

  “Give them a kiss from me, and I’ll see you all tomorrow night.”

  Sylvia disconnects the call, lets Bailey out, and makes her way softly upstairs into Megan’s room. A chink of light filters through a gap in the curtains and falls on her face.