The Open House

by Sam Carrington

  ‘I mean, this is all circumstantial, I know, but it’s certainly added an interesting spin on this whole thing, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, yes. And it explains rather a lot. He’s probably the one trying to frighten me out of my own home. Moving stuff, turning off the power, maybe even coming inside the house at night – all so I might hurry the process up so he can get his cut. I’m shocked, Jo. And worried. I told him I was relieving him of his services, taking the property off the market if that’s what it takes, and now I’m wondering what lengths he’ll go to, to ensure I don’t do that.’

  ‘Come and stay here, Amber. There’s plenty of room.’

  ‘That’s really kind of you. I might well have to take you up on that. Last night I set my phone up to record and someone turned the light off so they couldn’t be seen. Moved my coffee table in front of the lounge door, blocking it, then must’ve gone out the back door. Meaning they have a key—’

  ‘Fucking hell, Amber! Why didn’t you tell me this as soon as you walked in?’

  ‘Sorry. My mind is all over. And I’ve got no evidence. Again. Someone knew I’d set my phone to record them. In which case, I’m seriously concerned there’s still some form of recording device in the house.’

  ‘Then you have to call the police and get it checked.’

  ‘Nick did a sweep of the house when I first told him about the missing thirteenth viewer. He didn’t find anything untoward.’

  ‘Hmmm. Well, in my mind that doesn’t prove anything. You can’t rule out the possibility it could be him who put the recording devices in the house in the first place! Maybe he hasn’t let go; he wants to watch you, keep tabs on you. Listen to your conversations.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Jo’s stream of consciousness is making my chest tight. But her thoughts mirror my own. ‘I can’t lie, Jo – it has been something I’ve considered, too. I got a call from him the other day – and it came just as I’d said out loud that I wanted to call him. I started thinking last night that maybe it wasn’t a fluke after all; he’d heard me say it. Although, at this point, I think almost everyone is on my suspect list. Apart from you, of course.’

  ‘You shouldn’t discount anyone,’ Jo says, half mocking.

  ‘I know. Barb’s still on it, as well.’ I sigh.

  ‘Makes sense to keep an eye on her. Don’t for one second let her fool you into thinking she’s not capable; I wouldn’t put anything past that woman.’

  ‘Exactly. Why is Barb – and Nick for that matter – so adamant we shouldn’t sell to the developers? Is it really just to do with her memories of the house and not wanting to upset the other villagers? Or is there more to it? That postcard Davina told me about, it rang alarm bells. It’s only a hunch – but I think she’s hiding something.’

  Jo nodded. ‘Everyone has something they’d rather others didn’t find out about. I suspect she’s got a fair few skeletons in her closet.’

  ‘Agreed. More delving required there. And, talking of our dear friend, Davina – where are we up to with her and the invisible Wayne?’ I ask. It was Keeley who’d been tasked with this.

  ‘Ugh!’ Jo’s shoulders slump. ‘It’s so weird. Anything regarding Wayne is very vague. Most people Keeley spoke to said the same – they’ve never properly met him, have only caught fleeting glances. They’ve lived here for seven years or so! It’s not normal in a village, is it?’

  ‘Not at all. I’m seriously debating if he even exists; I mean, surely someone has seen him at the pub, doctor’s surgery, post office – something. I’ve seen who I assume to be Wayne leaving in his car, sensed his presence when I’ve been at Davina’s, but nothing firm. It’s ridiculous to think no one’s met the man. Maybe we’re not speaking to the right people. Davina did say he worked unsocial hours, and often worked away. Perhaps it’s just that. I’m going to have to push Davina on it, though; ask to meet him. My curiosity is killing me.’

  ‘Right, are we all caught up?’ Jo asks.

  ‘For now, I think. Will you keep me updated on anything else you find out, please?’

  ‘Likewise.’ She pauses. ‘What about coming to stay here for a bit, like I said? I think it’d be a wise move.’

  I’m both touched and further unnerved by her concern. ‘I’ll give it some serious thought, Jo. Thank you.’

  ‘Would you at least let the boys stay here this weekend? We’ll call it a sleepover and they’ll be delighted.’

  ‘Yeah, sure – that’d be great actually. I was put-out that Nick wasn’t worried about us being in the house alone, dismissing any hint of risk – I’m glad someone worries about us.’ I smile and give Jo a hug. I have to hold back tears. ‘Finley will be harder to coax, though – he’s convinced someone’s in the house and he’s desperate to play detective, like his dad, to catch them in the act. He’ll want to be man of the house and stay with me.’

  ‘I’ll use my best powers of persuasion – which may or may not involve Star Wars and popcorn. You could say you’re going to spend the weekend with Richard so he doesn’t think he’s leaving you in the house alone? You can bring them over later.’

  I nod. ‘Yeah, that’s actually a good idea.’

  ‘But for what it’s worth, I don’t think you should be there alone, either.’

  ‘It’s fine, honestly. I’m not going to be on my own.’

  Jo shoots me a confusing look.

  ‘I’m going to ask Davina to stay with me.’ It’s a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I think it’s a good one.

  ‘Why on earth would you want her to sleep in your house?’

  ‘Eliminating her from my enquiries? If something happens while she’s there, maybe she’s not the one behind it.’

  ‘Fair point – if you can keep a close eye on her the whole time, of course. Good luck with that.’

  I leave to go home, my mind spinning with what Jo has just told me. Carl Anderson is married to the stepdaughter of one of the main men behind the Apple Grove development. I can’t get over it – I’m certain it’s not a coincidence.

  I’m determined to get to the bottom of all of this.

  The weekend ahead will need to be put to good use … because I’m running out of spare time.

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  How much of a person do you ever really know – a third, a quarter? How much of themselves do they keep private; concealed? Our innermost thoughts and desires, certain goals, maybe certain traits and behaviours, we try to keep under wraps. Because they don’t conform to the norms, or because they are telling; giving away secrets of our deepest fears. All sorts of reasons.

  The main reason I keep things hidden is to protect others.

  Or, that’s what I told myself.

  Others might say I hide those things to protect myself.

  They’re intrinsically linked; intertwined – the need to protect with the need to preserve, I think. They go hand in hand.

  But now, I need to make a decision. Come down on one side or the other.

  I can’t do both.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Amber

  I talk about the weekend with the boys on the walk home from school, explaining how I need to see Richard. I big up the proposed two-night sleepover with Jo and Keeley, and even Finley jumps up and down at the prospect of having time out of our house and spending it playing games, building Lego and watching movies with his favourite aunties.

  ‘It’ll be like a holiday,’ Leo says, excitedly.

  ‘Tonight and tomorrow night? Really?’ Finley asks.

  ‘Yes – I know you’ve never stayed more than—’

  ‘Excellent!’ he says, before I can finish my sentence.

  A twinge of guilt pulls at my insides. I hate lying to them, and saying I’m going to spend time with Richard instead of them feels terrible. They don’t appear bothered, though, and once we’re home, they both rush upstairs to pack their rucksacks. Jo said to drop them over for 6 p.m. A nervous flutter consumes my stomach.

  ‘They’ll be fine h
ere,’ Jo says when we get to theirs.

  ‘I know. Thanks for having them. I really do appreciate it.’

  ‘No problem at all. You know we enjoy having them – it brings out my inner child again, which pleases Keeley no end.’

  I attempt a smile, but it’s more of a twitch. After further assertions from Jo that the boys are in good hands – and a serious request that I’ll call if I need them – I leave and walk back home. The empty feeling in my stomach is as cavernous as the emptiness of the quiet house when I walk into the hallway.

  The house is all wrong. It doesn’t feel comfortable and safe.

  It no longer feels like my home.

  I call Richard as soon as I get in but am deliberately vague – I tell him I feel in need of some respite, some alone time, therefore have dropped the boys at Jo and Keeley’s. I hold back from telling him everything. I’m in the house – I’ll assume from here on in that someone is listening. Watching.

  A sudden jolt, like an electric shock, strikes me.

  What about Richard?

  At no point had I considered putting him on my list of suspects.

  Jo’s words echo in my ears: You shouldn’t discount anyone. Oh, my God. Could he really be capable of these things? He is keen for me to leave this house, leave Devon and move to Kent with him. Possibly enough of a motive to frighten me; get me moving more quickly.

  No. Calm down.

  I’m allowing paranoia to overtake logical thought. The very fact I love Richard and am confident enough in our relationship to move to Kent with him must mean something. I need to trust my judgement. Trust my gut, my heart. I have to believe in him right now – it’s all I’ve got.

  But that neurotic thought has made me realise there’s even more reason to get Davina to stay. Better safe than sorry. I flit around the lounge and kitchen, hastily tidying – even though there’s no need – before heading to the front door. If someone is watching, I don’t want them thinking I’m in a panic about anything.

  The fact I’m even thinking this way almost makes me laugh. Hysteria has taken over. If I’m way off the mark, though, that’s good. I’d rather be classed as paranoid and take precautionary action, than write off the many alarm bells and regret it later.

  I amble towards Davina’s house; my tummy flip-flops as I approach her door and knock. I take a step back while I await an answer, my head down as I silently repeat the phrases:

  I no longer know who I can trust.

  I need to play this very carefully.

  I raise my eyes again as I hear the door swing open, but my words of greeting die on my lips.

  Davina isn’t the person standing in front of me.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Barb

  There are certain things I think I should nip in the bud. I might not have control over all the factors; not all the people involved – but there are others I can do something about. I’ve spoken with Carl again, who was delighted I gave his diary back – I invented a cock-and-bull story about me tidying Amber’s house and unearthing it, saying one of the kids had found it but it had got jumbled in with their toys. Amber had taken far too long to find it, and I had to do the job myself in the end because it was affecting Carl’s functioning. Why she’d hidden it under her mattress is beyond me; I spent over an hour searching for it. I informed Carl that she felt hugely embarrassed and so not to mention it to her. He was just grateful to have it back. As for Nick, he is still very much onside, thankfully, and I’m working on Amber. I’ve a plan for the others.

  Davina is my priority for today.

  The look of shock on her face is a picture.

  They’re all the same these do-gooders. Busybodies. Interferers. Whatever you want to call them. When the chips are down, when they’re confronted – they all pretend to be innocent. Geraldine Harvey was the same. Yet, even all these years later it appears she hasn’t learned her lesson.

  I hope for Davina’s sake she can take a friendly warning – that she learns from this.

  ‘What do you want?’ she barks in my face the second she opens her front door.

  ‘Just a brief chat – that’s all,’ I say. After a few moments of hesitation – some furtive glances over her shoulder – she lets me inside.

  ‘I haven’t got long,’ Davina says. She doesn’t sit, and neither does she offer me a seat. I see she still has the same cream sofa from when I visited the last, and only, time. It’s not as cream as it once was, of course, more a dirty light yellow now. I could’ve told her back then she’d made a mistake with that purchase.

  ‘I’m not here for a coffee and a heart-to-heart, don’t worry,’ I say. ‘I’m only here to tell you to back off.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Davina gives a sharp, almost comical shake of her head.

  ‘I want you to stop bothering my daughter-in-law – leave her alone and stop putting ideas in her head.’

  ‘Look, Barb.’ Her face turns a deep pink. ‘You’re in no position to tell me who I can talk to. And she’s not going to be your daughter-in-law for much longer. I suggest you leave and don’t darken my door again.’ Davina makes a move to the front door. I’m guessing she wants me to follow her, but I stay put; feet firmly planted in the lounge. ‘You need to leave. Before my husband gets home.’

  ‘Oh, don’t make me laugh, Davina. That’s hardly a threat – I very much doubt your elusive husband will be home any time soon.’ I wait for my words to sink in before continuing. ‘What is a threat, is me telling you to back off … or else.’

  ‘Yeah, sure. Whatever.’ Davina laughs. A short, sharp, ugly snort.

  My initial frustration is bubbling, gathering momentum, about to turn into anger. I screw my hands up into balls at my sides. ‘Yes. You better believe it,’ I say, squaring up to her. I realise a short, thin sixty-seven-year-old isn’t going to appear very threatening, but I’m pleased to note the colour leach from her face. ‘I’ve seen you two together – I know what you’ve been up to. Dipping into other people’s business, trying to drag up the past, taint their reputation, ruin their future. You’re repulsive.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Barbara. I think you’ve got the wrong—’

  ‘I do not have the wrong person, or the wrong end of the stick, and the way your cheeks have just flushed, you know it too,’ I say, in a voice as low and as menacing as I can conjure.

  ‘This is preposterous …’

  ‘No, Davina. It’s not. I know what you’ve been doing – you don’t truly believe you could’ve kept it all secret, do you? You’re not the only busybody in the village, you know.’

  Davina steps backwards, her spluttering words tripping over themselves incoherently.

  I’ve got her.

  She’s met her match with me.

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Amber

  My shock must be clear to see; my entire face feels contorted.

  ‘Barb? What … I …’ Seeing Barb instead of Davina is the very last thing I expected.

  ‘Oh, close your mouth, dear, it’s not an attractive look.’

  My confusion doesn’t transcribe into words. I’m standing on the doorstep, mute.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘I haven’t disposed of your friend.’ Her voice drips contempt.

  ‘Why are you here?’ I say, glad I’m able to get an entire sentence out of my mouth.

  ‘That’s between us. You know me – don’t like to speak out of turn.’

  I let that obvious lie slide. My curiosity, however, refuses to do the same. ‘Where is she? I want to talk to her. Now.’

  ‘She’s busy. On the phone, I believe. Maybe come back in half an hour or so.’ She gives me a sickly-sweet smile.

  ‘What are you playing at, Barb?’

  ‘I’m not playing at anything. Unlike some.’

  I hear some movement inside the house, then voices. Is Wayne in there too? I want to push past Barb, go in and see for myself.

  ‘Sorry, Amber,’ Davina says as
she comes into view of the front door. She stays back though, in the shadow of the hallway.

  The way she says it is not in a “sorry for keeping you” kind of voice. It’s more like a “I’m sorry for this and whatever shitstorm is now going to head your way” voice. I might well be reading far more into it because seeing Barb has set me off, but my gut tells me otherwise.

  It’s that, or I’ve just caught Davina out. Maybe she and Barb have been in on this from the beginning and together they’ve been attempting to sabotage my hopes of selling so that I stay in Barb’s godforsaken family house.

  While this may be the case, though, it still doesn’t make sense that Barb is behind whoever is creeping around the house at night, moving things. That stuff is making me want to leave the house more quickly, not stay. I’m beginning to think everyone on my suspect list is playing a part in my situation and that there are two opposing groups. One trying to make me stay, the other trying to make me leave.

  It’s a case of figuring out who is on each side and what I’m going to do about them.

  ‘Call me when she’s gone, Davina,’ I say, purposely ignoring Barb. Then I turn my back on them and walk across the road.

  Barb better not dare come knocking on my door after she leaves Davina’s.

  I’m in just the right mood for an almighty argument.

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Amber

  The mounting sense I’m being kept in the dark about something is replaced with a sinking sensation when I cross the road and see a man sitting on my front doorstep.

  Now what?

  He looks old: his face is weathered and his grey hair sticks up in all directions – therefore, he’s hopefully pretty harmless – and possibly homeless given the state of his clothes and his dishevelled appearance.

  ‘Can I help you?’ I say as I draw closer.

  ‘I certainly hope so,’ he says, standing. He’s taller than I expected from his seated position. A battered-looking army-green holdall lies at his feet, but I don’t think he’s selling anything. I instinctively keep some distance between us and stand with my arms crossed. I wait for him to continue.