‘Good. Have you spoken to Carl – asked him what she wanted?’
I’m becoming increasingly wary of conducting this conversation out in the open. ‘Can we talk about this inside?’
Davina makes a face. One that reads No. ‘Just give me a few minutes and then I’ll come over to you.’ Before I can disagree, she goes inside, closing the door behind her. She’s acting so suspiciously, I think as I cross the road back to mine again. What is she hiding from me? For some reason she doesn’t seem keen on me being in the house when her husband is. After walking in on a possible argument last week, maybe she feels embarrassed.
I keep periodically checking out the window, hoping to see Davina walking across the road. A car speeds past, the driver clearly in a rush. How irresponsible to drive that way in an estate filled with children. Ignorant man. I note it was a silver Mondeo, the one that’s often parked close to Davina’s house. I bet that was Wayne.
It’s another half an hour before Davina knocks. I open the door, but she doesn’t make a move to come in.
‘I think we should pay Carl a visit,’ she says. ‘Grab your car keys. We’ve got two hours before you need to pick up the boys.’ Davina walks towards my car. I suddenly feel motivated; I want to get to the bottom of this. And if it means Davina helping, then so be it. I do as she instructs.
The car journey to town passes in a flurry of conversation. I even confide in her about Nick’s visit and how I stupidly told him my suspicions about Barb. And then I tell her about Leo’s nightmare about the man at the end of his bed, watching him. It’s actually quite liberating talking to someone outside of my friends about it. She doesn’t suggest poltergeists are at play. She doesn’t imply I’m stressed and that all of this in my head. I think she believes me that someone is coming into the house. The relief I experience is overwhelming.
‘Thank you, Davina,’ I say. The dreaded prickle begins in my eyes. I blink rapidly.
‘No. Thank you. I don’t get to socialise much. Just being out of the house is wonderful. I’m so used to being stuck indoors most of the day.’
I take this opportunity to mention her husband.
‘Does Wayne work from home too?’
She doesn’t respond. I quickly glance at her. Her face is solemn; the downward tapering of her outer eyes giving rise to her sad appearance. She realises I’m looking at her and quickly smiles.
‘Oh, sometimes. It depends,’ she says brightly. It’s a false brightness.
‘Must be hard when you’re trying to focus on writing, having him under your feet.’
‘No, not really. We keep to our spaces.’
It’s an odd thing to say. But I press on. ‘What does he do?’
The atmosphere becomes tense. I’m conscious of Davina’s discomfort. It’s confusing as it’s not like I’ve asked something personal. Out the corner of my eye, I note she’s twisting the edge of her cardigan around and around in her fingers. Christ, what does Wayne do? Work for MI5?
‘Accountant,’ she says, finally. I’m disappointed; I was sure she was going to say something far more interesting.
‘Oh, that’s … a good job,’ I manage, knowing I just sound condescending.
‘Huh. Yes, something like that. You’d think it was a boring nine-to-five, wouldn’t you? But no. He works such a lot; unsocial hours … often away.’ She gives a short snort of a laugh. ‘There! Pull up over there a minute,’ she yells, causing me to panic so much I almost make an emergency stop.
I indicate and stop just outside Sports Direct. It’s double yellow lines and the car park is only around the corner. ‘I can’t park here, Dav—’
‘We’re not parking, we’re waiting. Look!’ Davina points.
Carl is walking in the direction of the car park.
‘What are we going to do, follow him?’ I laugh, but know that’s exactly what Davina has in mind. The adrenaline rushes through my body.
‘Absolutely we are,’ she says. I can’t help but smile. This is possibly the most excitement either of us have had in a while. My house issues aside.
‘I can’t see him now, though. How are we going to know when he’s driven out?’
‘Let’s give it a few minutes, then drive slowly in that direction.’
We do this and as I’m approaching where the exit of the car park joins the road, I spot Carl’s car.
‘Good,’ Davina says. ‘Right, there’s a few cars behind him waiting to drive out as well. Make sure a couple are between you and him.’
‘God, Davina. Have you done this before?’
‘I watch a lot of crime films and documentaries for research.’
Of course, that makes sense. I manage to keep two cars behind Carl and get through the next set of traffic lights at the same time as him. So far, so good.
‘What are we hoping to gain by following him?’ I ask.
‘I don’t really know – but it seems like a good idea.’
I haven’t yet told Davina what I learned from Yolande in the playground. Now might be a good time. I explain how the conversation went; Davina remains quiet while I retell it.
‘So, I was actually coming over this morning to ask you if you knew about this affair Carl was having, then when you came up with this plan, I completely forgot to ask.’
Davina is so quiet I have to nudge her to make sure she’s even heard me. ‘Did you know about it?’ I ask again. She seems to be deep in thought, manically twiddling her damn cardigan again, but eventually she speaks.
‘I had my suspicions, but no. I didn’t know about that affair,’ she says, her voice flat.
From her choice of words I suspect she maybe knew about a different affair; with someone other than Miss Emery.
‘I thought you always had your finger on the pulse of Stockwood.’ I laugh.
‘I’m not as nosy as you think I am, Amber.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean …’ My face flushes. Luckily, I spot Carl turning off the main road ahead and am able to change the subject. ‘He’s heading towards Bovey Tracey,’ I say. ‘Suzanne, from the agency, mentioned they had a new instruction the other day. Carl was rushing off to it when I was trying to catch him.’
‘Or he’s off meeting up with another woman,’ Davina says as she leans forward and takes her handbag from the footwell.
‘You okay?’ I ask.
‘Oh yes. Just getting my phone ready. Keep a good distance but not too far away. I need to be close enough to get good, clear footage.’
‘You’re going to record him?’
‘Of course. If he’s up to no good, we need evidence, Amber. Haven’t you been listening to me?’
‘Yes, yes. Sorry.’
‘He’s pulling over. Stop here.’
I do as Davina says and park on the same side of the road as Carl. There are a few other parked cars in between us, so hopefully he can’t see us. We wait in silence as he climbs out of his Mercedes and casts a cautious glance around him. I instinctively duck down despite knowing it’s very unlikely he’d spot me. He might, however, recognise my car. My heart rate speeds up.
Carl reaches the front door of a detached house and hovers there. He looks at his mobile and begins pacing. Just the same as he was doing when I watched him on the SmartRing app when he was at my house.
‘Someone’s approaching him,’ Davina whispers, her phone held up.
A woman – tall, slim, blonde – walks up to Carl. It’s hard to tell from this distance, but they don’t seem to say anything to each other. Carl opens the door and they both disappear inside.
‘And now we wait,’ Davina says, pressing pause on the phone’s recorder.
Chapter Fifty
Barb
Amber has just driven off – and with Davina in the passenger seat.
Why is Amber with her? She told me herself she despises her nosy neighbour and doesn’t ever want her stepping foot in the house. She’s a lot of things, Amber, but not usually one to go back on her decisions – as the current situation with Nick a
nd Richard proves. Whatever could’ve changed her mind and compelled her to want to spend any time with Davina? As much as it bothers me, I’ve no time to think about it now, though. I’ve got to focus on the job in hand. I might not have long.
I wait until they’re out of sight and I can no longer hear the car’s engine, then I walk confidently up to the front door, pop the key in the lock and walk in, closing the door quickly behind me. I breathe out slowly and steadily for a minute or so. My heart is beating like a rabbit about to be skinned.
I’m confident Amber doesn’t suspect me of getting keys cut for myself. I was quick to take the two keys to her after the locksmith had finished, carefully timing it as though I’d got the 11 a.m. bus, which would’ve got me into town at 11.20 a.m. But as it happened, when I was waiting at the bus stop, Eric – our old postie – had stopped and offered me a lift into town. I couldn’t pass it up. It was perfect timing and gave me the opportunity I needed to get in earlier.
I don’t dally now; I go straight upstairs to Amber’s bedroom. I carefully unhook the picture from the wall. I try not to look at the boy and kitten for long, but a few seconds is all it takes for my mind to flash back in time. I should’ve destroyed it there and then, not just hidden it in the shed to burn at a later date. How did I forget to do it? My mind must’ve been all over the place. And now, all these years later it’s appeared on Amber’s wall. It’s here to haunt me. My fingers tremble as I lay the picture on the bed and open the bag I’ve brought with me. Without looking into the little boy’s eyes, I slip it inside. I sit on the bed because my legs feel so shaky; I need a few moments to gather myself.
I was stupid to leave the job undone back then. I won’t make that same mistake now.
I’m going to take it home and burn it.
Chapter Fifty-One
Amber
‘This is a waste of time, Davina. He’s just showing someone around a house. Not exactly mind-blowing. And it tells us nothing, does it? I don’t even know what I’m doing here.’
‘Patience.’ Davina tuts. ‘He’s been in there for just over thirty minutes.’
‘Yes. And?’
‘How long does it take to walk around a house?’
‘Well, I don’t know, but he’s probably being thorough.’
‘I bet he is,’ Davina mutters. ‘He’s up to no good, Amber. I’d put money on it.’
Another fifteen minutes pass and even I’m beginning to believe it now. I’m also beginning to worry about how long this is taking. I can’t afford to be late to pick the boys up – once was bad enough.
‘Here we go,’ Davina says and lifts her phone to record again.
I sit upright, straining to see them. They remain in the doorway of the house for a few seconds, then begin walking up the path. My mouth drops open as I note Carl’s hand on the small of the woman’s back. It lingers there. Carl gives a furtive look around, says something close to the woman’s ear, then they both part and walk in opposite directions. As Carl nears his car, he adjusts his tie, then tucks a piece of his shirt back into his trousers before climbing in.
Neither of us speak. Davina’s previous words play out in my head: Carl always brings the same people to your house.
I’m betting they were all female.
I break the silence. ‘Davina? Do you remember saying you’d seen Carl taking the same people inside my house on several occasions?’
‘Yes,’ she says, looking at me intently.
‘Did they all happen to be women?’
‘Apart from one occasion when I saw him with a man, yes; the rest have all been young, mostly blonde, women …’
A shudder ripples through my body. Could Carl be conducting his illicit affairs in my property while he’s supposedly showing around prospective buyers? It was one thing thinking about strangers traipsing through my house criticising it, it’s quite another to even contemplate my estate agent using my house to have sex in. Of all the things I’d been worried about, that hadn’t been one of them. But now, thanks to Davina dragging me into this detective work, it is.
I’m disgusted. Blondes are obviously his preferred type. Miss Emery is also blonde. I can’t remember if I’ve seen his wife, but I’m guessing she’ll have the same colouring. I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together as soon as Yolande mentioned he’d done it in her house.
‘Christ,’ I say. ‘He’s been using my house, too, hasn’t he?’
Davina makes a face. ‘Seems likely. You also said he was reluctant to give your key back, so that fits with him wanting to come and go as he pleases. If you pardon the pun.’
‘Ew, Davina!’ I squirm. I can’t believe he’d have the nerve to do it.
‘But now he hasn’t got immediate access to yours, he’s probably using here. And any other places on his agency’s books.’
‘What a creep.’
‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘You mean apart from change estate agents? I don’t know. Report him to the relevant standards agency, I guess.’
‘I think we should wait. Gather further evidence.’
‘Really? Why?’
‘You said you’ve had strange goings-on in your house since the open house event that Carl arranged.’
‘Well, yes, but …’
‘I’m not trying to frighten you, but what if he does more than just take other females into his houses?’
‘I’m not following.’ I rub at the frown lines on my forehead. I’ve got the beginning of a headache.
‘He has access to houses when no one else is there. He had access to yours. He could’ve easily installed cameras—’
‘Stop, Davina! Don’t be ridiculous. How can you jump to such a conclusion?’
‘It’s probably the writer in me; I see the bad side of everything, I’m afraid, and I’ve seen that very thing on a true-crime documentary – was going to base my next book on it.’
‘Bloody hell, Davina.’ Concern creeps through me like a fast-growing vine. ‘Thanks for that.’
‘We shouldn’t discard it. Everything is a possibility.’ She shrugs. ‘He might get additional kicks from watching women when they don’t know anyone is looking.’
The thought horrifies me. I try to push it from my mind.
But another, more terrifying possibility occurs to me now I think about what’s been happening in my house. What if he doesn’t look through a lens? What if he lets himself into people’s houses in the dead of night and watches them while they sleep? I curse myself for allowing Davina’s warped writer’s mind to affect my own. I’m tired and stressed, and letting my imagination run wild. And anyway, now Carl doesn’t have a key, how would he be getting in?
But the thought takes up residence in my head, against my will.
Could Carl be the man from Leo’s night terrors?
Chapter Fifty-Two
It wasn’t easy knowing I was different from most people. My childhood was a daily challenge, and over the years I became more and more introverted. I’d watch people. I’d always be on the periphery; on the outside of things looking in. I liked not being “seen”. But, it wasn’t long before I realised you can’t get on in life if you’re that way. I had to learn to be like other people. Learn the norms. How to be. I was determined to appear to the outside world how I wanted to be seen.
So, I was careful to watch the right people.
My obsession with other people’s lives soon took hold, and even once I’d mastered the art of living like everyone else, I couldn’t let go of the need to watch. I just had to evolve my methods.
Once my carefully constructed life was threatened, though, I had to evolve once again. If certain people hadn’t interfered, I could’ve quietly continued about my business. If the past wasn’t dredged up, if I didn’t find out, if only I’d been strong enough … If, if, if.
If only people didn’t lie.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Amber
I want to call Nick. I want him to get his colle
agues to sweep the house and check for recording devices. I’m walking with my head down, concentrating on my mobile screen; the boys are either side of me. My finger hovers above Nick’s name. I’ve already called him out to check the house; he’s going to think I’m totally paranoid if I tell him why I want him this time. He might even believe I’m doing all this as an excuse to see him; it’s how his mind will work, I’m certain.
After waiting for Carl to leave the house in Bovey Tracey, I drove back home, dropping off Davina and parking up. Then I dashed to school on foot, with no time to go inside the house first. Now, with Leo and Finley in tow, I approach the front door. I give a cursory glance to the broken doorbell. From what I’ve seen today, I’m thinking maybe it was Carl who smashed it so that I wouldn’t find out he was bringing the same woman, or women, to my house. It certainly answers my question of why he was so adamant to keep hold of my house key. I’m awaiting my new SmartRing doorbell – Nick said he ordered one, but it seems to be taking an age to get here.
My anger has subsided a little, but only because it’s diluted with disbelief at Davina’s claims; my own suspicions. We’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion, adrenaline and hysteria overtaking all sensibility and reasoning. I hold on to that as I open the door. But, after getting the boys a drink and snack, I am compelled to search anyway, just in case. I go upstairs to my bedroom first, as this is the obvious place someone – some weirdo – would put a recording device. I check the lamps, light fitting and top of the wardrobe, then the picture frames.
‘Where the hell?’ Confused, I stand back from the wall. The boy-and-kitten picture is gone. My mind works overtime. Did Carl see us watching him today? Maybe he knows we’re onto him. He could’ve come here while I was picking the boys up and removed the picture because it was the one with a spy camera and he didn’t want to be caught out; didn’t want me to have physical evidence of what he’s been doing. It’s the only explanation, surely? Apart from complete paranoia. A breakdown.
The Open House Page 17
