Watched: When Road Rage Follows You Home (29 page)

The agent shrugged, leaving them alone in the garden looking out towards the slowly setting sun.

‘What do you think?’ Charlie asked, putting an arm around her.

‘It’s liveable.’

‘What about the smell?’

‘I don’t know – it’s all right at the moment, so at least it’s not all of the time. They say you get used to things like that. How bad can it be?’

‘Do we want to find out?’

Esther rested her head on his shoulder, resigned to the situation. ‘I’m not moving to that first one and this has to be better than an earthquake every twenty minutes.’

They began walking back towards the house hand-in-hand. ‘It shouldn’t be for too long,’ Esther added. ‘Hopefully our house will sell quickly – it’s in a good state. If that goes within four or five months, we won’t even get into any more debt.’

As they reached the front of the property, Esther felt Charlie’s fingers tighten on her shoulder. Moments later she heard it too. Felt it.

Doof-doof-doof.

A small green hatchback flew around the corner, accelerating past their parked car with an ear-splitting squeal of tyres before the base thumped its way into the distance. Everything had happened in a few seconds but Esther had stopped moving.

‘It wasn’t him,’ Charlie whispered.

‘I know.’

‘Are you okay?’

Esther pulled him towards her, clinging onto the fabric of his top and wrapping her fingers in it. ‘I’m not sure I can do this any longer.’

‘It was just a car.’

‘I know, but… it’s this place. We’re on the other side of town but every time I see a blue car or hear the sound, I’m going to think of him.’

Charlie clutched her, cupping the back of her head in his palm. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I think I need to go home.’

‘To your parents?’

Esther could barely say the word. It stuck in her throat before emerging as croaked breath. ‘Yes.’

She felt his body tense as he squeezed her tighter – their dream wasn’t just over: they had been completely defeated.

THIRTY-SIX: CHARLIE

Even after turning his alarm off and getting up, Charlie still felt as if he was dreaming. This was it. He was going to go to work and tell Alan Byers he was handing in his four-week notice. In the meantime, Esther would phone her parents and ask if they could go and live with them again. His in-laws would say yes, he and Esther would pack up, and it would be like the past few weeks never happened – except for the crushing debt hanging over them and the fact neither of them would have a job.

What a mess.

Esther woke with him, getting dressed and following him down the stairs. It was a nice show of support but there was nothing either of them could say. Neither of them blamed the other for wanting to leave – it had all come down to an unfortunate moment of fate. If Esther had been a few seconds earlier or later, she would never have run into Dougie and their lives would be different.

The downstairs of the house was steeped in a grey-blue haze of the morning light creeping around the closed curtains and blinds. Charlie made a pot of coffee but it came out bitter and thick. Neither of them ate, so they sat in a cold silence in the kitchen counting down the moments until he had to go.

Esther followed him to the front door, practically clinging onto the sleeve of his jacket, clearly not wanting to be by herself. He opened it expecting to welcome another summer’s morning but, instead, they were both left standing and staring, unsure what to say. The For Sale sign had been split in half, the wooden pole still tied to their gatepost, with the board part lying in front of Esther’s car next to a mound of rubbish.

Charlie turned, squeezing his wife’s shoulder and returning to the kitchen to get some gloves and bin bags without speaking. The only way to deal with it was to not let it affect them, so they worked together bagging the rotting food, twisted coat-hangers, smashed-up wooden cabinet and empty, ripped food wrappers. When they were done, Charlie wedged the sign in between the vertical bars across the top of the wall that ran along the front of their house. It would probably end up being stolen the next night but he doubted many people bought houses because they’d seen a board any longer – it was all online nowadays.

As he went inside to wash his hands, Esther began to move the bags towards the back of the house. Charlie had just set the tap running when the bone-rattling, banshee-like wail of her scream pierced through him.

He spun and ran for the door, leaving the water cascading into the sink behind him. As he rounded the front corner of the house, he saw Esther’s shape silhouetted against the rising sun. She was standing at the back of the path along their house staring across the lawn, bin bags at her feet, both hands on her head. She had only screamed once but there was now a low murmuring cry ebbing away from her as she started to tug at her hair.

‘Esther…’

Charlie approached her slowly, unsure what was going on. Her body was beginning to shake from the legs up until she slumped to her knees, shoulders quaking up and down.

By the time he reached her, the murmur had become a full-on yowl, like a child crying for its mother. The desolation tore through Charlie until he felt he wanted to cry for her.

Lying in the centre of their lawn, sliced open from his navel to his throat, was Patch. He hadn’t just been killed, he’d been gutted, the green of the grass stained red with brutality.

Charlie crouched next to Esther, putting his hand over her eyes and turning her towards him. She didn’t fight, her entire body limp and defeated. For a while, she sobbed softly into his jacket, her body bobbing in time to her cries.

Slowly, he helped her to stand, leading her back towards the house and cradling her face on his shoulder. She allowed him to lead her upstairs into the bedroom, where he helped her under the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, whispering that she was going to be okay.

The string of words flowed from him: an endless stream of soothing, clichéd banality that meant nothing. How were you supposed to comfort someone after seeing that? Saying it was going to be fine wasn’t only a lie, it was an insult. Charlie continued to say whatever came into his head until Esther’s sobs began to slow, becoming a whimper more than a howl. He brushed her eyes closed and kissed her on the forehead, sitting and watching as she sobbed herself to sleep.

When her body stopped quivering, Charlie left the room and pulled the door closed behind him. He stood at the top of the stairs, peering down through the top window towards the garden, where he could see the extent of the cruelty. Patch hadn’t just been killed, he’d been arranged to be found – all four legs splayed wide so that the clean, vertical slice through his centre was gaping. Even from the top window, Charlie could see that the cat’s eyes were open: a haunting, lifeless pool of green staring up to the sky.

He tightened his suit jacket and jogged down the stairs, tossing his house keys from one hand to the other. After double-checking the back door was locked, Charlie left via the front and secured that too. He started walking towards the cut-through that led to the alley at the back of their house but he soon found himself jogging, then running, until he emerged at the exit close to Dougie’s house. The sweat was making his shirt cling to his body underneath the suit, his arms prickling with discomfort.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

Charlie hammered his fist into Dougie’s front door. ‘Come on, I know you’re there.’

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

From inside, there was a cacophony of female swearing. Charlie kicked the door for good measure before it was wrenched open, revealing Leah in a dressing gown, half-smoked cigarette dangling from her mouth. ‘What the—?’

Charlie didn’t give her an opportunity to ask him what he wanted, shouldering past her into the house. The hallway was dark and dingy, an orangey bulb overhead offering the only light. Leah howled in fury but Charlie used his size for once, standing tall and intimidating.

‘Where is he?’

‘You can’t just come in ’ere.’

Leah tried pushing him but Charlie gripped her wrist, squeezing a little too tightly until she grimaced and kicked out at him, missing.

‘
Where
is he?’

Before she could reply, the frenetic growl came from behind. Charlie turned to see Dougie dashing out of a room at the far end of the hall, head down, fists balled. He stopped a moment before colliding with Charlie, snarling with anger.

‘Get your hands off her.’

Somehow, Charlie hadn’t realised he still had hold of Leah. He loosened his grip and she snatched her wrist away, glaring up at him before retreating behind Dougie.

‘You’re a dead man,’ she hissed.

‘You started all of this,’ Charlie replied, pointing a finger.

Dougie smirked up at Charlie, not intimidated by the size difference. ‘Aye, aye – what’s got your thong in a twist?’

‘Why did you have to do it?’

‘Do what?’

‘The cat.’

He tilted his head to the side, smile widening. ‘What cat?’

‘You know what you did.’

Dougie turned to peer over his shoulder, grinning at Leah and welcoming her towards him. ‘Do you know what we did, hon?’

‘I dunno what he’s on about.’

‘I hope you’ve got some proof,’ Dougie added. ‘Coming round ’ere, telling tales, making stuff up.’

‘You know I’m not making it up.’

‘How will anyone know you didn’t slice that mangy thing open yourselves? That bitch wife of yours was so overcome with rage at not being able to have me that she took it out on the cat.’

Dougie was swaying back and forth, shoulder pressed forward, ready for a scrap.

Charlie’s teeth were clenched as he breathed through his nose, trying to figure out what he should do. He’d stormed around here instinctively but now his true self was beginning to seep through again. Dougie stared up, willing him to make a move.

Charlie’s voice was a deflated whisper. ‘You’d won – we were moving, so why did you have to smash the sign down?’

Leah cackled with laughter which seemed to surge Dougie on. He pumped himself up onto the balls of his feet, rocking forward but his words were deliberate and marked. ‘If you’ve got a toy you love playing with, why would you let it go?’

His eyes narrowed in challenge and suddenly, Charlie let go.

Without thinking, he reeled back and punched Dougie as hard as he could. The shorter man saw the blow coming and tried to reel away but Leah was standing too close and inadvertently blocked him. Charlie felt the pain through his knuckles as Dougie flailed sideways into the wall, a vicious crunch echoing around the hallway. Before he knew it, Charlie had both fists clenched, bobbing on the tips of his toes.

‘COME ON!’

The adrenaline poured through him as he realised for the first time that Dougie shouldn’t be a physical threat to him at all. Dougie might be stockier, perhaps even stronger, but he had height, agility and raw power on his side. If there was going to be any sort of fight, he’d come out on top.

‘COME ON!’

Dougie pushed himself off the wall and wiped a red smear away from his lip. He cracked his jaw left and right, making it click, before breaking into another smirk.

‘You’ve just unleashed hell, sunshine.’

Charlie continued shaking, primed, wanting to scrap. ‘Are you too much of a coward to fight?’

‘We’ll see, pal. Now get out of my house before I call my brother.’

Slowly, Charlie unclenched his fists. Dougie’s eyes didn’t leave his but it was only a couple of seconds until he was left feeling deflated. Of course Dougie wasn’t going to fight him – he wouldn’t fancy his own chances, so what was there to gain?

Charlie turned and bolted out of the open front door, racing for the alley. His shirt was so saturated with sweat that even his jacket was beginning to stick.

‘
…You’ve just unleashed hell, sunshine…
’

Dougie’s growl crawled through his mind. Why had he been so stupid? The sight of Esther’s devastation had tipped him over the edge and he’d torn off like the alpha male he wasn’t, wanting to right her honour. Instead, he’d ended up trespassing and assaulting someone. He’d fallen right into the trap. They had no evidence Dougie had done anything to the cat, yet here he was in full work suit running along the road. People would remember him. What an idiot.

As he emerged from the alley, Charlie stopped to smooth his hair down and make himself look at least a fraction presentable. Judging by the confused look of an old woman he passed, he didn’t think it had worked.

He opened the front door as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake Esther. At some point, they’d have to do something with the cat. Should he call the police and leave it there as evidence, or get rid of it?

Charlie crept up the stairs to the bedroom, opening the door a crack. He wanted to see Esther breathing, watch her chest rising and falling and feel her hand on his. He’d have to tell her how stupid he’d been and watch the disappointment and annoyance in her face.

His eyes searched in the gloom for her shape but they were taking too long to adjust so he edged inside, stepping across to the bed. It was only when he reached out towards her that Charlie realised Esther wasn’t there.

THIRTY-SEVEN: ESTHER

The smallest duck patted around the outside of the pond before leaping off the bank towards one of the biggest ones. In a flurry of quacks, snapping beaks and splashing water, they eventually righted themselves as the watching children clapped and laughed at the impromptu spectacle. On the other side of the picket fence, more children ran back and forth braying with the type of joy that only youth could bring.

Poor Patch.

Esther pressed back into the hard wooden bench and tucked her knees up to her chest trying to blink away the scene from the garden. She jumped as a jogger bounded in front of her, stopping abruptly and twisting to put his foot on the bench and tie his shoelace. Esther shuffled away from him, trying not to look at who it might be.

‘Sorry,’ the jogger said chirpily.