Watched: When Road Rage Follows You Home (23 page)

‘
Normal?
What’s normal about this?’

Charlie had his top drawer open and was putting his fountain pen in the box, along with a diary and other odds and ends.

‘Nothing, look, sorry – that’s not what I meant.’ Alan reached out and took the photograph from the box, setting it back up on the table. ‘Just don’t do anything rash today. You’ve got every right to be angry but I’m backing you one hundred per cent.’

‘If that was true, you wouldn’t be sending me home.’

‘I’ve got to do that.’

‘No you don’t.’

Alan slapped his palm hard on the solid wood table, sending a splintering echo hurtling around the room. Charlie jumped and stopped packing the box as Alan replied. ‘I really do. If you were in my position, you’d know that was the truth. This can’t be a personal thing between you and me. I know this will all be sorted out later today and I’ll call you. If there are any problems after you come back tomorrow, that’s something we can deal with then. For now, please unpack that box and let’s not make the situation any worse than it already is.’

TWENTY-SEVEN: ESTHER

At least the garden was coming along nicely. The roots of the hedges weren’t quite as deep as Esther had first thought and an overnight tinkling of rain had made the ground much easier to dig into. There was perhaps another day of hard work, then she could choose whether she wanted to sow more seeds, or move back inside and start work on the smallest bedroom.

As Esther dug down deeply to expose the roots for her to slice through, Patch squeezed his way out from underneath the hedge at the bottom of the garden. She couldn’t be certain but she thought he’d grown a little. This time, there was no hesitation as he bounded across the lawn towards her, stopping to rub against her leg and stare at her expectantly. Esther took the hint and disappeared inside, returning shortly afterwards with a plate of cat food and a bowl of water. ‘It’s chicken of the ocean today,’ Esther said, setting everything down for the cat. ‘I think that means tuna, unless they’ve started drowning chickens.’

Patch launched himself at the plate, eating quicker than ever before. The sun was out again, bathing the garden in warmth. Esther allowed herself a break; sitting, resting and watching Patch chomp his way through the meal.

She’d been feeling conflicted all morning: at the same time as she was beginning to feel better about her lock obsession, Charlie’s life had started to crumble. After he’d left for work, she’d gone around the house checking each window in record time, not making a mistake and not feeling the pull to return and try them again. Esther wondered what, if anything, Dougie might have planned next. Charlie seemed worried now, which only made her feel more anxious.

Patch finished his meal and lapped at the water before running and jumping at Esther, wanting to play. Esther stroked his back, trying to tell him that she was busy but being seduced by the green attention-seeking eyes.

They were interrupted by the low throaty grumble that was unmistakably her car. Patch’s ears pricked up before deciding that he didn’t want any part of whatever the noise was, turning and high-tailing it for the safety of the hedge and the alley beyond.

Esther slipped around the side of the house just as Charlie was climbing out of the car, head sunk, defeated. He told her that his bosses had all been sent the flyer and they had suspended him for the day at least. She tried to do her best to comfort him inside but there wasn’t an awful lot she could say or do. At first he was insistent he was going to quit but they both knew they’d be left in an near-impossible financial situation if that happened.

Together, they sat in the living room, not saying much but watching the beautiful day pass them by through the half-closed blinds. By the time the second person crossed the road to avoid having to pass the house, Charlie got up and closed them, before going around the rest of the house and doing the same with every window.

‘You’re going to be as bad as me,’ Esther said with a grim smile when he sat back down. Charlie didn’t respond – it was a stupid joke anyway.

With his help, they worked in silence stripping all the wallpaper from the smallest room but it left the house smoggy and humid. With Charlie not wanting to open any curtains and Esther wanting the windows locked. They were quite the pair.

A little after six in the evening, Charlie’s mobile rang, with Alan Byers offering the news that the investigation was complete and that he was completely off the hook and would be welcomed back in the morning. Esther didn’t expect her husband to be happy about how things had played out but she didn’t expect him to go straight to bed either.

As she moved around the top floor making sure the windows were locked, Esther couldn’t help but feel that their dream house had become more of a prison than her parents’ house had ever been.

TWENTY-EIGHT: ESTHER

The next day, Esther got up at the same time as Charlie: a small act of solidarity but something nonetheless. He didn’t say it but it was clear he was dreading walking back into the hotel with all of his staff knowing what had happened. As with any workplace, one or two people would have known and suddenly everyone did. The only thing really in his favour was that his car had been returned free of graffiti the previous evening, so he didn’t have to squish himself into hers.

As she stood on the doorstep watching him accelerate away along the road, a pair of women stopped at the front of their driveway, staring directly at Esther.

‘What?’ Esther called.

The women were younger than her, slim and dressed for a day at the park or beach. She’d never seen either of them before.

One of them stepped onto the driveway, top lip sneering. ‘What’s it like fucking a pervert?’ Esther was so shocked, she didn’t respond immediately. The woman continued along the driveway, jabbing an angry finger. ‘He ought to be put down. You too if you put up with stuff like that.’

‘He hasn’t done anything wrong.’

‘Yeah bollocks has he, that’s what they all say. Paedo pervert freaks. You should be ashamed of yourself. I’d chop his bollocks off if it was my bloke. How sad do you have to be to sit around at home while he’s off fucking kids behind your back?’

‘He’s not.’

The woman turned her back, laughing at her friend. ‘You hear that? He’d rather fuck a five-year-old boy than
that
.’

Esther stood watching as they walked away, cackling. Her feet felt fixed to the floor. How long would this continue? Would they still have people giving them grief in a month? Six months? What happened if she did ever become pregnant? They’d probably have a neighbour phoning the police, reporting Charlie for endangering their unborn child. This was so much worse than anything that had occurred before.

Eventually, Esther managed to get herself back inside. She rushed up the stairs into the smallest bedroom, which smelled of glue, with a faint hint of burning. She went around the house making her usual checks but the hooting of the unknown women were stuck at the front of her mind and she kept making mistakes. An hour later and she finally finished at the back door, confident that everything was safe and secure. As it always was.

She stared out to the back garden: more brightness and sun to enjoy but Esther couldn’t bring herself to spend another day out there. She opened the fridge, wanting to make some coffee to help wake her up, but there was no milk. No bread either, plus hardly any teabags.

Esther went into the living room and put the television on, trying to distract herself from the people passing outside. She knew she should close the blinds like Charlie had but there was a morbid fascination in being able to see their reactions through the thin slits when they couldn’t see her. Some clearly didn’t know there was anything different but others would glance briefly at the house and then do a double take, presumably recognising it from the flyer. A group of teenage lads stopped outside, pointing and muttering among themselves. Another mother crossed the road with her pushchair, as if Charlie was inside and might be able to smell the toddler otherwise.

All the time, the carriage clock continued to tick the seconds away. Ticccccccccck to the left, tocccccccccck to the right. The metronome continued to clunk from side to side until Esther couldn’t hear anything else.

In a flurry of anger and spontaneity, she plucked it from its spot in front of the rear window and ran through the house, unlocking the back door in one swift movement and throwing the clock into the wheelie bin. It landed at the bottom with a solid, satisfying thud but continued ticking until she closed the lid and blocked it out.

She was about to head inside when a young voice broke the summer morning’s silence: ‘Hello?’

Esther turned to see the top of Mark’s head peering over the fence. ‘Was it me you wanted?’ she asked.

He shrugged. ‘Can you get our football back?’

Esther glanced towards her back garden, assuming it had come over the fence but Mark called after her again. ‘It’s on the other side of the road. Mum won’t let us play at the back because it’s too messy and she said we can’t ask to come to yours anymore. We’re allowed to play in our front yard but she said that we can’t go into the road if the ball goes that way.’

Mark was using the top of the fence to haul himself up, bobbing on the tips of his toes and staring at her with the big-eyed ‘pleeeeeeeeeeeease’ expression that all children seemed to learn.

Esther opened the gate to the front of their drive and peered across the road to where there was a red and black football nestling in the gutter. Gary had joined his brother at the fence but seemed a lot more nervous about asking for anything.

Thinking it couldn’t do any harm, Esther checked both ways and crossed the road. She picked up the ball and returned to the house, passing it over the fence to the younger boy.

Mark booted the ball into the air, turning in glee. ‘Thanks Mrs Pooey!’

By the time she tried to tell him it was ‘Pooley’, he was already on the far side of the yard, kicking the ball at the fence and yelling ‘GOAL!’.

Gary hadn’t moved. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘You’re welcome.’

‘My dad says we’re not supposed to talk to you.’

Esther started to turn, knowing there was only one thing she should say: ‘You should probably do as he tells you.’

Gary stepped away from the fence before spinning back as if he’d forgotten something. ‘You’re not going to hurt us, are you?’

‘Of course not – but if your mummy and daddy don’t want you talking to us then you should listen to them.’

This time she didn’t stop, heading for the sanctuary of the house and locking the door behind her. Things really had got completely out of hand. Gary and Mark were only kids – did this mean that if she and Charlie lived in the house for ten years then neither of them would be able to say hello to them for fear of the gestapo banging the door down?

By the time she slammed the fridge door after forgetting there was no milk, Esther’s sense of injustice had turned into anger. There wasn’t much she could do directly – but sitting around moping wasn’t going to help.

She changed into a comfortable pair of shorts and a top, found a pair of trainers and then fished her purse from her bag. The sense of empowerment was intoxicating considering all she was planning on doing was going to the shop to get some groceries but it also felt like she was giving a giant middle finger to Dougie and everyone else who had believed the lies.

Esther knew the way to the shop after getting off at the wrong bus stop but this time, she set off on foot deliberately heading into the warren of alleys. She and Charlie had made the decision that this place was going to be their home, so she was at least going to make the effort to figure out where everything was.

She passed kids on bikes, mums with pushchairs, lads bouncing footballs, an elderly couple walking arm-in-arm enjoying the weather. Aside from jaunty greetings from the couple, no-one paid her a blind bit of notice. Esther realised it was liberating to be outside, where no-one knew who she was. If she’d been standing on the street instead of on the drive that morning, the two women wouldn’t have shouted at her.

Esther found the route to the shop quickly enough but doubled back, continuing to explore until she found a pond overlooked by a row of benches and a copse of trees. Finding a spot in the sun, she stretched out her legs and spent fifteen minutes watching the ducks, while enjoying the sound of laughter coming from the other side of a small fence where there was a play park.

The dose of reality made her want to return home and actually do one of the jobs she’d been putting off – either start wallpapering the smallest bedroom, or keep digging in the garden. Deciding that while the weather was fine, she may as well work outside, Esther retraced her steps towards the shop to get the milk and bread.

The local convenience place was the type of spot that seemed to sell one of everything. At the front, there was an orderly queue of people paying for their wares. Esther took a moment to try to get her bearings but had no idea where she was going. She passed the ice cream freezer, newspapers, bakery items, fresh fruit, tinned items and who knew what else before she found herself in the back corner, wondering how so much had been crammed into an incomprehensively small space. It had to be bigger on the inside than the out – how else could the sheer number of products be explained?

The chilled cabinets provided a welcome relief from the heat of outside, so Esther crouched and started to hunt through the bottles of milk, looking for something with the longest expiry date. After digging something out from close to the back, she stood, ready to leave when something moved in her peripheral vision. She stared left, where the thin, unmistakeable figure of Leah was reading the back of a yoghurt tub.

Esther stared for a couple of seconds before remembering where she was. She stepped backwards slowly until there was a shelf between them, and then nudged a few items aside so that she could watch the other woman with little chance of being spotted herself.