Watched: When Road Rage Follows You Home (11 page)

Read Watched: When Road Rage Follows You Home Online

Authors: Kerry Wilkinson

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Psychological Thrillers, #Suspense, #Thrillers, #Psychological

BOOK: Watched: When Road Rage Follows You Home
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Esther caught Liz’s eye and nodded towards her garden. ‘They can play over here if they want.’

Mark peered to Esther, the smirk reappearing on his face as he widened his eyes to face his mother – an expert at getting his own way. ‘Can we, Mum?’

Liz shrugged, having seen it all before. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ she asked Esther.

‘I only wish I had the legs to run around. It’s been ages since I went to the gym.’

A rub of Mark’s hair was enough for Liz to tell him it was fine. He ran into the house, yelled ‘FOOTBALL!’ at the top of his voice and emerged moments later with his older brother behind him. He was about to climb the fence when Liz sent him the long way around, via Esther’s drive. A minute later and the two brothers were racing around in circles doing their own commentary as they kicked the ball towards the thick bushes, which provided a surprisingly good makeshift goal.

‘Are you really sure you don’t mind?’ Liz asked.

‘It’s nice to hear them enjoying themselves.’

Liz leaned back, cradling the area underneath her stomach. ‘They’re at a good age – it’s nice when they’re walking and talking. It’s even better when they start sleeping through the night. Everyone tells me to wait until they become teenagers.’

Esther leaned on the fence, watching as Mark screamed ‘GOAL!’ and did a lap of the garden to celebrate. It was good to hear their young voices filling the morning, though if she listened really carefully, she could hear a thumping stereo and roaring exhaust somewhere in the distance.

TWELVE: CHARLIE

 

A day in the garden seemed to have done Esther the world of good. When Charlie arrived home, he could see a little colour in her cheeks and a slight burn from the sun on her forehead. The worried, glazed look from the morning was apparently gone. They ate tea together for the fifth consecutive day, which had to be something of a record. It was everything they’d hoped for when they’d been saving to buy their own house: the space and freedom to enjoy each other’s company.

Afterwards, Esther went to take a shower as he got changed. Charlie would have been happy to do some unpacking, or other work around the house but Esther suggested curling up on the sofa together, which sounded like a far superior idea. He waited downstairs, listening to her move around above, checking each of the windows before coming downstairs and repeating everything in the kitchen. When she finally emerged into the living room, she glanced nervously towards the back window, not wanting to check it in front of him. Charlie said nothing as she sat next to him on the sofa. At first she was at the far end but she gradually slid closer until her wet hair was pressed against his chest. Friday-night television was the usual mix of panel shows and quiz programmes but what they were watching wasn’t particularly important.

At a little after half-past-eight, the doorbell rang its long, ponderous tone. Charlie felt Esther tense but he eased himself out from under her and went into the hallway. On the other side of the door was a bored-looking young man in a bright yellow polo shirt and red shorts, holding onto two large, flat cardboard boxes which he thrust towards Charlie. On the road behind him was a small bright yellow car with a large pizza etched onto the driver’s door.

‘That’s twelve-fifty, mate.’

‘We didn’t order pizza.’

The driver peered at the sticker on the edge of the box and then the number on the wall. He checked the address, phone number and name, which were all correct.

‘…but you’re saying you didn’t order it,’ he added, eyebrow raised disbelievingly.

‘We’ve been having a few problems with local kids and the like. I think they believe it’s funny.’

‘It’s not very funny for me. We’re busy tonight and I’ve driven five miles to get here.’

Charlie was about to apologise and send him on his way when he changed his mind. He told the delivery driver to wait for a few moments, disappearing into the cupboard where they kept their coats and digging a twenty-pound note out of his pocket.

‘Sod it,’ he said. ‘We’ll take them anyway.’

The driver was now well and truly confused but took the money, checking the watermark in the light and then handing over the change.

Charlie waited in the doorway until he’d driven away and then stepped outside, pizza boxes in hand. He peered both ways along the street but couldn’t see anyone. Just in case, he held the pizzas up higher, calling loudly to ensure anyone nearby could hear. ‘Thanks – we were feeling a bit peckish.’

Back inside, he left the food in the kitchen and returned to the living room. Esther was back leaning in the far corner, eyeing him with curiosity.

Charlie returned to the sofa with a shrug. ‘If he wants to play that game then we’ll play it back.’

‘I don’t want to play a game.’

‘Either way, we can put those two in the fridge and they’ll get us through the weekend.’

He was trying to put a brave face on things but Esther was back to sitting away from him and cradling herself. When she went upstairs to use the toilet, Charlie could hear each of the windows rattling before she returned.

An hour after the pizzas arrived, the doorbell went again. Charlie peered out of the window and tried to hide his sigh of annoyance from Esther before he answered.

This time, the man on the other side had his stomach crammed into a pair of too-tight jeans and a white polo shirt with a dirt stain on the front. He was greying, with a road map of wrinkles etched across his face. ‘Taxi, mate?’

‘We didn’t order one.’

They went through the rigmarole of checking the address, phone number and name again before the driver disappeared in a huff. He had apparently been booked for an airport drop-off, so would have been eyeing a healthy fare. Charlie moved onto the driveway, looking both ways but again seeing no-one. This time he had nothing to shout.

Almost to prove his defiance, he took a cold slice of pizza from the kitchen and returned to the living room, eating it in silence.

Twenty minutes later, when the doorbell went for a third time, Charlie shot off the sofa to open the door. This time there was nobody on the other side: just the darkening sky as dusk started to fall. Charlie pulled the door closed behind him, stepping onto the drive and peering around the corner of the house. There was no-one hiding there, or on the other side of the fence on next-door’s driveway. The road was clear too, yet Charlie felt as if somebody was watching him. He turned in a full circle, peering towards the hedges and walls of the houses opposite and looking for any flicker of  movement in the houses that didn’t have their curtains pulled.

Before he knew what he was doing, Charlie was shouting: ‘I’m here – what do you want?’

The answer was a silent nothingness.

Back inside, Charlie locked the front door again, vowing to ignore it the next time. On the sofa, Esther had her knees curled fully up to her chest. She was staring at the television but there was a blank look to her gaze.

‘I’m going to do something about this,’ Charlie said, picking up the phone and dialling 101. He sat on hold for fifteen frustrating minutes waiting for someone to answer the police’s non-emergency number, all the while stewing over everything that had happened in the past week.

When someone did answer, they were perfectly polite, took a few details and said an officer would visit the next day… if possible… though they couldn’t give a time.

Charlie hung up and sat staring at the phone, avoiding Esther’s attempt to make eye-contact, unsure if he’d made things better or worse.

THIRTEEN: ESTHER

 

Before she went to bed, Esther hunted through the unpacked boxes in the smallest bedroom, looking for the sleeping tablets that had been packed with all of the other medicines. They’d been prescribed by her doctor after a minor operation a few years ago but she’d never taken any. She found the small white tub buried underneath a box of indigestion caplets. The label said to take no more than one and not to use unless directed by a medical professional. Esther swallowed a tablet anyway and then hid the container in her sleeve. She entered the bedroom, angling her arm away from Charlie and buried the tub between the mattress and the bedframe.

It still took her a little while to drop off but, when she did, the next thing Esther knew, light was streaming through the curtains and someone was ringing the doorbell. Charlie wasn’t in bed next to her but the covers on his side had been neatly tucked in and the clock read half-past-nine.

She heard the front door being opened and then two men’s voices. Charlie was using his polite voice, which meant it had to be an adult he either liked or didn’t know.

As she strained to listen in, Esther realised it was the police officer that Charlie had requested the previous evening. She couldn’t help but be angry with him – again. If he had remained with her on the sofa and resisted the urge to answer the door, none of this would have been necessary. The camera was his idea, getting into some sort of argument with Dougie’s girlfriend was down to him. He was making things worse, not better.

Esther heard Charlie in the kitchen, probably making a cup of tea for the officer, so she dashed into the third room and began her checks: rattle the handle, unlock, open, close, relock, rattle the handle, press the glass. Into the bathroom: repeat. The spare room: repeat. Their bedroom… Esther stopped, wondering if she’d checked the bathroom properly. She had definitely unlocked and opened it but had she fully pulled it closed?

Panicking, Esther ran back into the bathroom, taking a deep breath and trying to do it properly this time. Charlie was talking again downstairs, so he must have finished making tea. The sound of him was putting her off – this was a conversation she wanted to listen in on, if not be a part of.

Slowly: Rattle the handle. Up-down, up-down, up-down; left-right, left-right, left-right.

Next: unlock. That’s easy enough.

Esther breathed in the fresh air, filling her lungs. This wasn’t so bad, after all.

Close and then relock, turning the key carefully. Remove it, rattle the handle again and then press the glass. The window didn’t shift.

Whew.

Esther was ready to return to their bedroom when the thought struck her that if she hadn’t checked the bathroom window correctly, then she might not have done the other rooms either.

Still the men chatted downstairs.

‘Silly, silly, silly,’ Esther whispered.

Esther knew this was irrational. She had no problem sitting in the back garden, so it wasn’t fear that someone was going to get to her. What was it then? Was she worried about the house itself? About somebody she didn’t know being in her space?

She took another deep breath and re-entered the smallest bedroom, moving around the unpacked boxes to the window and starting again: Rattle the handle, unlock… hang on, had she moved the handle up and down three times, or just twice?

Esther rested her forehead on the glass, feeling her heart beating. This was ridiculous.

Come on… slowly.

She re-locked the window and started again: Up-down, up-down, up-down; left-right, left-right, left-right.

Breathe… block out the voices downstairs.

Esther worked her way through the rest of the routine, finally getting it right and then she returned to the spare bedroom, then their bedroom.

Once she was absolutely sure all three bedrooms and the bathroom were secure, she finally crept downstairs, feeling the pull towards the kitchen, wanting to check the door and window there. She paused on the bottom step, now able to hear the voices clearly.

‘…so you have the destroyed security camera,’ the unfamiliar voice said.

‘Exactly,’ Charlie replied.

‘…but there’s no footage of the person who smashed it from your wall?’

‘Only their feet. We think they walked along next-door’s driveway and then hopped over the fence.’

‘Did either of you hear anything?’

‘My wife woke up but she thought the noise was coming from downstairs. I did come down but didn’t see anything. Neither of us looked out of the window.’

‘Right, and what other incidents have you catalogued?’

Esther crept into the kitchen, leaving the door to the hallway open so, if she strained, she could still hear.

‘A lot of it has been with my wife,’ Charlie said. ‘He followed her…’

‘Sorry, who followed her?’

‘The neighbour I told you about.’

‘This
Dougie
?’

‘Right…he followed her to B&Q, flashing his lights and beeping his horn. He drove in circles around her and scared her out of her wits.’

Esther approached the window, furious. What was Charlie doing? If Dougie’s brother was high up in the police, why was he telling those very people about what was happening to them? Up-down, up-down, up-down…

‘Then the next day, rubbish had been dumped on our driveway and her car’s tyres had been slashed. Mine was on the drive but he didn’t go after it.’

…Left-right, left-right, left-right…

‘Did anyone witness this?’ the officer asked.

‘No.’

‘So you don’t know for certain the damage was caused by him.’

‘No, but it’s not just that. He parked his car in the middle of the road outside of our house. He was staring at my wife. Esther, sorry, she’s called Esther.’

‘Right… ’

…Unlock the window, open it, breathe the summer air…

‘He went through our bins and found out our phone number. We’ve been getting hang-ups and then he called this carpet company, complaining on our behalf. The driver came back and was really angry. He had a bit of a go at Esther because he thought she’d moaned to his boss.’

‘Okay.’

…Close the window, relock it…

‘He’s stolen washing from our line, ordered us pizzas and taxis. Every day there’s something new. Poor Esther’s here by herself having to deal with it.’

…Check the handle again, press on the glass. Definitely locked…

The police officer sighed. ‘We do try not to get involved in neighbour disputes because much of it does cross over into civil territory. All I can tell you is that it doesn’t sound as if you have anything I can go away with. In these types of situations, we advise people to keep a diary. If anything happens, you should write down the time and date. If ever anything were to get to court, that’s something tangible we can use as evidence. Obviously you shouldn’t be afraid to call us, especially in an emergency. For now, we can have the forensics team to come around and check for fingerprints and shoeprints on your drive.’

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