Watched: When Road Rage Follows You Home (13 page)

‘I suppose so.’

‘I’m Amy, by the way. Are you here by yourself?’ Esther must have appeared confused, because the other woman quickly corrected herself, nodding towards the smaller pool and the row of adults on the side. ‘It’s mother and child day on a Monday. Some parents hang around that pool all morning but the instructors and lifeguards are good types, so I do a few lengths myself. It’s good practice for when they start school.’

‘Right – I’m on my own – which one’s yours?’

Amy pointed towards a thrashing set of bright orange armbands doing a width of the smaller pool. ‘That’s Jamie. He loves the water so much, it’s like he’s got gills.’

The two women watched in silence as Jamie touched the other end of the pool, setting another boy off to do a width. Considering the children could only be five at the most, it was incredibly well organised. Esther wasn’t even sure she could swim at that age, let alone take part in relays.

‘How long have you been coming here?’ Esther asked.

‘Eight or nine months. My husband thought it might be a good idea to get Jamie swimming before he started school. He suggested throwing him in a lake and seeing what happened, but I’m pretty sure he was joking. It’s nice to meet a few of the other mums anyway.’

This was exactly the type of life Esther had been thinking of when she and Charlie had made the joint decision to move away from the area she grew up in. Of course, if she and Charlie were actually going to have children, there was one crucial act they had to do first – and she hadn’t felt in the mood for that since moving.

Amy said goodbye and hauled herself out of the pool to go and watch Jamie from close up. Esther did a few more laps at a gentle pace before heading to the changing rooms.

Chlorine-free, hair clean, and feeling far better than she thought she would, Esther took a handful of timetables and flyers from reception before heading out of the front door. The car park was in an L-shape and looped around the side of the leisure centre. Esther was massaging her shoulder as she rounded the corner but stopped on the spot, her bag dropping to the floor with a clump.

Four spaces along from her car, impossibly, was the metallic blue hatchback. The sun was reflecting from the polished bonnet but Esther could see Dougie in the driver’s seat, cap pulled down, head angled away, talking on his phone with the engine off.

FIFTEEN: ESTHER

It was only when he shifted in his seat that Esther realised she’d been staring. She coughed a breath, feeling a pressure building in her chest as she scooped up the bag and dashed behind a parked mini, crouching until she was out of sight. She dropped to the floor, leaning her back against the car’s door but it felt as if the sky was hurtling towards her: crushing, enclosing, squeezing. A wall of blue surrounding and tugging at her.

She squeezed her eyes closed until they actually hurt, counting to ten and telling herself that the sky was up there, she was down here.

As she reached ten, she risked opening her eyes, blinking to clear the flashing pink and yellow stars around the edge of her vision. The sky was back to where it was supposed to be but she still felt unsteady as she twisted to peer through the windows towards her own car. There were around a dozen empty spaces until a red Volvo, then a few more metres of clear tarmac until hers. Between Dougie’s car and hers, there was a small black Ford – but with them all parked in a line, he would be able to see her through the windows if he turned around.

Esther started counting to ten again, this time with her eyes open. He couldn’t have followed her – she was so careful to check her mirrors. She told herself it had to be a coincidence.

Had to be.

Perhaps he’d simply been driving past and saw her car parked, or he hadn’t spotted her at all and used the leisure centre himself? He ran clubs for kids, so maybe he was here for that?

Dougie was still facing the other way, one hand holding the phone, the other flapping animatedly as if he was arguing with someone.

Esther edged to the rear of the car, still watching Dougie, tasting sweat in the corners of her mouth even though she had just showered. She hauled the bag up higher on her shoulder, took a breath and then sprinted in a straight line for the Volvo, praying he didn’t glance around.

Her legs were tired from the swim but she drove herself onwards, realising too late that she wasn’t paying attention to the ground, spinning and clattering into the side of the car with a metallic thud. She slumped to the floor again, gasping for air and clutching at her chest. It occurred to Esther that if anyone were to walk around the corner now, they’d think she was trying to steal the vehicle.

Slowly, she eased herself up to peer through the window towards Dougie again. He was still on his phone, but now facing head-on, a dark line of stubble visible around his jawline. He was definitely angry, banging his free hand on the steering wheel and shouting.

Esther crept around the rear of the car, staying low and hurrying forward until she was next to her own. She was close enough to Dougie to see his eyes bulging, only now realising the driver’s side window of his car was open. She could hear him arguing with someone, even though she couldn’t make out individual words.

She fumbled in her bag, picking out and dropping the car keys as she tried to keep her hand steady. Esther risked another glance to make sure he hadn’t spotted her but the moment she peered up, Dougie slammed his hand down on the rim of the open window, bellowing the word ‘no’. She flashed back down under the line of the glass, sitting on the ground and groping for her keys among the dust and grit, hoping the Ford in between both their cars would give her enough cover.

As she heard him shout a second time, she pressed the unlock button on the keyfob, wincing as the orange indicator lights blinked on and off. Esther reached up and pulled the door handle, easing it open and slipping inside the vehicle. She stayed low, almost horizontal as she wedged herself under the steering wheel and clicked the door shut.

The inside of the car was hot, making the air hard to breathe. Esther swallowed but her throat was dry and it felt as if there was a grater at the back of her tongue. She was beginning to feel claustrophobic again, as if the vehicle was in a crusher and the roof was crumpling in upon her.

Esther screwed her eyes closed again. ‘One-two-three…’

Still not opening them, she scrabbled for the ignition slot, slipping the key inside.

‘Four-five-six-seven… ’

Esther slid up in the chair slightly, enabling her to work the pedals. She pressed the clutch and opened her eyes. The sun was so bright that a frosty translucent haze was clouding her vision, making her feel as if she was under water again.

‘Eight-nine-ten… ’

Breathe.

Dougie was still on his phone but had again turned away, leaving Esther to seize the opportunity. With a final spring of her legs, she was in a sitting position; twisting the key, jolting the car into gear and accelerating away, only risking a glimpse in her mirror when she was safely out of sight of the leisure centre.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Although she couldn’t see the blue car in her rear-view mirror, Esther didn’t bother going anywhere near the garden centre. Her clothes were dripping with sweat, her mouth so dry that each gulp felt as if she was swallowing a pine cone. She thought about opening the window to allow some air in but didn’t want to risk it just in case of… well, she wasn’t sure. It just didn’t feel right to have them open.

Back at the house, she struggled to hold onto her door keys because her hand was trembling so much. Eventually she used both hands to press the key into the door, bundling herself inside and slamming it behind her.

Up-down, up-down…

Esther ran through her routine, tugging on the front door handle six times instead of four, before going around the rest of the house. As she reached the kitchen window, she froze for a moment, before realising the disc on the back lawn was the plate she’d left for Patch. She thought about going to fetch it but knew that would only mean she’d have to start checking the windows and doors again.

She finally treated herself to some water, drinking so quickly that she felt as if she might be sick, before refilling the glass and downing that too. Esther rested on the cool metal of the sink, running through the events of the morning and trying to figure out a rational reason for why Dougie had been at the leisure centre.

Clunk, thud…

Esther yelped in alarm as something plopped through the letterbox. Her fingernails slid across the sink with a piercing scrape as she narrowly avoided knocking a plate onto the floor.

‘Silly, silly, silly.’

The mail was almost entirely worthless: ‘To whom it may concern’, ‘To The Householder’, ‘FAO The Homeowner’ – junk, junk, junk.

Then the bottom one caught Esther’s eye – it was addressed to ‘Mrs B Itch’. Esther remembered the phone call for ‘Bryony’ earlier and suddenly it fell into place. ‘Bryony’ wasn’t a previous owner of the number – Dougie or his girlfriend had signed them up for various marketing schemes.

Esther ripped the envelope open, scanning through the loft insulation advert until she found a contact phone number at the bottom. Fuming, she ripped the phone from the cradle, thumping each number into the handset and then pressing to dial. She held the phone to her ear: dead. She pressed hang up and tried again: dead.

After making sure it was plugged in, Esther nudged aside the curtain and followed the phone line from the front of their house to the telegraph pole across the street.

She reached into her bag, trying to fish her mobile out but struggling: she was sweating again, staring at her own hand shaking.

‘Stop.’

Esther tried to sound firm but her body wasn’t obeying. Using both hands, she cradled the phone in her lap, scrolling to find the phone company’s main number and putting them on loudspeaker.

The instructions made her want to throw the phone across the room and curl up in a ball – press one to throw yourself off a cliff, two to throw yourself off a bridge. So many options.

In the end, she stabbed the star button repeatedly until it started ringing, only to end up on hold: dreary lift music seeping out from the low-quality speaker. By the time a woman finally answered, Esther had lost all sense of what was going on, talking too quickly, her words running into one another, with the person on the other end asking her to repeat everything over and over.

When the attendant had finally taken the landline details and confirmed the name and address there was a pause before she responded. Her reply sent Esther slipping down the sofa onto the floor, collapsing into a resigned slumber.

‘According to our records, you voided that account last week. It was within the cancellation period, so the paperwork is on its way.’

SIXTEEN: CHARLIE

Charlie stared at the barely concealed name on the junk mail in front of him: ‘Bitch’ – or close enough. After doing a little digging on the Internet, he realised it was surprisingly easy to sign people up for things. All you needed was an address, a postcode – easily findable – and a name, real or not. He had no doubt this flyer would be the first of many, each designed to taunt Esther a little further.

He buried it deep in the bin, sitting on the sofa and putting an arm around his wife as she explained that the phone line had been cut off. The company were in the process of reinstating it and it should be back within ‘twenty-four to forty-eight hours’.

Apparently.

They’d also set up a password to stop anything happening in future. Charlie wasn’t entirely sure how it could have happened in the first place but didn’t want to push Esther too far, especially when she finished by telling him she’d seen Dougie in his car outside the swimming pool.

She was a nervous wreck: sitting on her hands to stop him noticing they were shaking but her shoulders were still juddering.

‘What do we do?’ she whispered, face pressed into his shoulder.

‘We could try the police again.’

‘How can
they
help? His brother’s one of them.’

Charlie felt as if he was stuck at sea with the shore in sight but the tide pulling him further and further away. They were so close: a beautiful home, a life they’d planned for, a well-paid secure job – and here they were, drifting ever further away from it.

‘I think I should talk to Dougie,’ Charlie said.

Esther gripped his wrist, digging her nails into his arm and pulling away to face him. ‘What good will that do?’

Charlie stared at the red marks in his skin, easing himself slightly away from her. ‘We’re all adults – perhaps if I talk to him man to man, it’ll all be put to one side? He’s obviously done some good things in his life.’

‘
Man to man
?’

It sounded like she was mocking him.

‘I’m just going to talk to him.’

‘What are you going to say?’

‘I don’t know – just that it’d be nice if we can each keep ourselves to ourselves. I’ll think of something.’

Esther shuffled to the far end of the sofa, angling her feet to keep him away.

‘What else can we do?’ Charlie asked.

Esther shook her head, unwilling to engage. He knew she wanted to leave things be and hope they went away – but it had been a week and they were getting worse. If Dougie was looking for a reaction then wouldn’t it make sense to show him that they were rational people?

‘Esther…’

‘What?’

‘What do you want me to do?’

She was practically curled into a ball, knees tight to her chest, eyes slightly glazed. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Do you want to come with me?’

‘No.’

The shoreline felt as it was drifting further away: a glint on the horizon rather than something he could reach out and touch.

Charlie left the house and negotiated the back alleys while running through potential conversations in his mind. Should he be aggressive or conciliatory? Would Dougie admit everything and laugh in his face, or would he say it was nothing to do with him?