Watched: When Road Rage Follows You Home (16 page)

On Friday, Esther allowed herself to leave the house for the first time since she’d seen Dougie outside the leisure centre on Monday. She drove to the garden centre, a constant eye on her mirrors, though he was nowhere in sight. She bought the plants that she wanted and even began taking her time towards the end, resisting the urge to rush home and make sure no-one had broken in.

Back at the house, she felt rejuvenated enough to unpack the rest of the boxes from the smallest bedroom, becoming so engrossed by moving things around and remembering where all of their trinkets and possessions had originated, that she only realised the time when Charlie’s key scratched into the front door. A stabbing sense of apprehension clenched at her insides because she hadn’t gone around the house checking the windows and then… it disappeared.

That night, she still waited for Charlie to go to bed before checking the windows but not feeling the need to do it during the afternoon was an improvement. She had also got the number of up-down checks of the window handle back down to four again.

Esther awoke on Saturday morning having had the best night’s non-pill-aided sleep since they moved in. She waited as Charlie yawned his way downstairs but there was no shout to say there was a problem. With that, she stretched her legs with a satisfying moan, cricked her neck, and got dressed, following him down to the kitchen.

Bright light gushed through the rear window, bathing the area in a delicate yellow. With the unpacking done and all of the utensils and appliances laid out, it even looked like a fully functioning workspace. Aside from a few odds and ends around the rest of the house, it was only the smallest bedroom they needed to fully redecorate.

‘Morning,’ Charlie said.

‘Hi.’

‘Are you sure you’re ready for today? If there’s a problem, there’s still time to call your parents and ask them to visit another time.’

Esther popped two slices of bread into the toaster. ‘I’m feeling a lot better, plus it’s been…
quiet
… for a few days.’

Charlie nodded before burying his face in the fridge. He’d been a little strange with her ever since the incident with Dougie on the doorstep. The lies about her coming onto him were so outrageous that Esther hadn’t really been offended by them. If it was something plausible, she might have been hurt but there wasn’t even a grain of truth in it… except she had a nagging sense that Leah genuinely believed it and perhaps Dougie had somehow convinced himself it was true as well.

As for Charlie, he said he believed her – yet she couldn’t get over the feeling that there was a flicker of doubt in his mind. It was the way he would say everything was fine and then immediately glance away from her.

She was also worried that he was genuinely becoming obsessed with Dougie, as if the balding thug was somehow a threat to him. She couldn’t understand why Charlie had visited Dougie’s landlord, or what he thought would come from it. Esther still had a nagging sense that Dougie was biding his time but that was coupled with optimism that each day without incident could mean the doorstep confrontation had been his last stand.

Esther ate a piece of toast in front of Charlie before the mail arrived, bringing with it another piece of junk for Mrs Itch. Esther didn’t bother paying it any attention, ripping it in half and throwing it in the bin. Charlie volunteered to do some food shopping, which suited Esther as it meant she could do her morning window checks without him knowing.

As soon as he pulled away, she started in the smallest room. Now the boxes had been emptied, the bare floorboards were exposed, with the walls a mishmash of ripped wallpaper pasted on top of each other. Trimming back and digging out the hedges in the back garden was a lot of work, but when she was done with that, this room would be the final job.

Rattle the window handle up and down four times, then left and right. Unlock, open, close, relock, check the handle, press the glass. Easy.

Esther moved her way around the remainder of the house and checked all of the windows without making any mistakes, before going into the room she’d been decorating as the nursery. She pictured the addition of a colourful border, with bright mobiles hanging from the ceiling. For now, it would serve as a guest bedroom for her parents.

She dragged the fold-up bed from behind the wardrobes in their room into the nursery and spent ten minutes trying to remember how it worked. Each time she made a false move, the creaky metal hinges snapped at her fingers, until, eventually, it just about resembled something that people could sleep on.

Esther had invited her parents to visit shortly before she and Charlie moved out for good. At the time, she thought it’d be a nice way for them to see the new house, knowing the distance between them would be something that was hard for her mother, in particular, to deal with. With the way things were, she wasn’t convinced it was a great idea but Charlie said it was her decision. In the end, although she wasn’t sure she’d actually tell them, she
was
missing them. Living with your parents as an adult was a strange experience. The lack of personal space and the way you felt as if you were constantly under scrutiny was incredibly frustrating. At the same time you had people on all sides that wanted the best for you.

It was claustrophobic yet liberating; a trap but a blessing.

As Esther smoothed the sheets down, a flash of movement through the window caught her eye. Skulking around the hedge line at the bottom of the garden was a black and white ball of fuzz, squat tail swishing in the air as it stared towards the house expectantly. Patch took a few steps across the width of the garden, stopped, and then peered at the house again.

Esther hurried down the stairs, dug the cat food out from under the sink and scooped half a tin onto a plate before filling a bowl with water from the tap. By the time she got into the garden, Patch was strutting back across the lawn in the opposite direction, still stealing expectant glances towards the house. When he saw Esther, he took a couple of nervous steps towards the house, breaking into a trot when she placed the food and water on the ground.

As Esther sat on the hard soil, Patch nuzzled his head into her knee, before lapping the water and taking small bites of the food.

‘I got rabbit and duck flavour just for you,’ Esther said, running her fingers around the bare patch of skin on his neck. The hair had started to grow back, though the singed, blackened edges still stood out. He looked like he must have been hit or kicked at some point, possibly even beaten with a stick. Someone had definitely tried to set fire to him, perhaps strapping a firework to his back, or throwing a match at him, and his tail had been crudely sliced in half as well. As he rubbed his head into her bare knees, Esther felt a small tingle of emotion at the fact he was still coming to her for affection despite the barbarism inflicted upon him.

She continued stroking him as he finished the food and water, then laid on the grass.

‘I’ve got work to do,’ Esther whispered to him, tickling the area just above his paws. He twisted slightly, blinking in a way that made it seem like he’d rolled his eyes. Esther couldn’t resist smiling as she returned to the house and picked out the items she’d bought at the garden centre.

In the corner closest to the house, there was a patch of soil clear of bushes and overgrowth. On their first viewing, Esther thought it would be a perfect spot to grow plants. She would have preferred to hack back the rest of the garden first but that was something she wasn’t going to enjoy, while pottering around and planting seeds was something she’d been looking forward to since they’d had the bid for the house accepted.

Esther expected Patch to scamper away as he had in the past, but as she watered and dug out her improvised allotment, he rolled around next to her, trying to get attention. She buried the carrot and leek seeds, stopping every few moments to shoo Patch away from the area she was trying to work on. In the end, he pushed himself into the corner and began licking his paws, the bushy eyebrow-like hair arched downwards in disapproval.

The sun was warm on Esther’s bare arms and legs, marking two weeks of unprecedented, unbroken good weather. She peered towards the living room window on her right, sensing the pull of the lock but not having the urge to get up and actually check it was secure.

When Charlie arrived home, he came into the garden as if dressed for a day at the beach: flip-flops, loose shorts and a casual T-shirt.

‘You look happy,’ he said.

Esther twisted on her knees to face him. ‘I think I am.’

He smiled, subtle crinkles lining his mouth and his forehead as a wisp of his hair fluttered in the gentle breeze. For a moment, they locked eyes and the life they’d hoped for was a reality.

In a flicker, the prickly sense of unease returned and they each turned away. She wondered if he truly believed her that there was nothing between her and Dougie.

‘Is that Patch?’ he asked, nodding towards the corner.

The cat was glaring at Charlie, ears and tail up, wondering who the man was that had invaded the space. Esther held her hand out but Patch didn’t approach.

‘Yes – I think he was living in our garden when it was a jungle.’

Charlie was leaning back on his heels, eyeing him warily. ‘Is he friendly?’

‘He is to me.’

‘What’s wrong with his eye?’

‘I don’t know – I think he’s been mistreated.’

Neither Patch nor Charlie appeared enamoured of each other but it was Charlie who caved first, heading inside to double check everything was in place for her parents. Esther continued working until the doorbell sounded and there were voices behind her.

As Charlie and her parents emerged around the corner of the house, Patch dashed for the hedge at the far end of the garden, disappearing underneath. Esther stood and wiped down her knees, grinning at her mother’s obvious disapproval.

‘You’re filthy,’ her mum said.

People always said that Esther looked like her mum but she had never seen it. Esther enjoyed trying new things and throwing herself into them. Her mother had always been very prim and feminine, with the mixed look of scorn and confusion she currently had on her face a familiar one.

Esther held her soil-caked hands up, grinning: ‘Fancy a cuddle.’

‘No I don’t!’

Esther’s mother, Caroline, wasn’t joking as she flinched away. She had on a flowery pink dress with matching necklace and bracelet and looked repulsed at getting it dirty.

Her father, on the other hand, bounded forward, wrapping his arms around Esther and squeezing her tightly. He was much smaller than Esther’s mum. Her mother’s personality was as big as her overweight frame but her dad was the softly spoken, far more considered one.

‘Hi, Dad,’ Esther said, trying to get some air back into her lungs after the bear hug.

He nodded towards the ground. ‘What’ve you got in there?’

‘Carrots and leeks for now. I need to get the hedges sorted before anything else can go in.’

As he stepped away, he peered down at the soil stains on his holey T-shirt. ‘Ah well, you’re worth it,’ he laughed.

Esther led them back inside, taking off her dirty shoes and showing them to the nursery room, before giving them a proper tour. Her father marvelled at what could be done with the place and praised what Esther had already fixed; her mother picked at small imperfections in the walls and tutted about colour schemes.

As they moved around the house, Esther’s mother straightened the handles of the mugs in the kitchen so that they were all facing the same way; she twisted the tap so that the ever-so slight drip stopped; she scraped a finger along the windowsill in the hallway, peering at her dust-covered thumb without saying anything. In the living room, she pointed out a small area on the ceiling they had missed when painting; she observed that the texture of the carpet on the stairs wasn’t consistent with the wallpaper. In their bedroom, she fingered the built-in cupboard handles and in the bathroom she brushed her hand across the tiling, all the while saying nothing out loud: her frown telling the story.

It hadn’t taken long for Esther to remember exactly why she’d been so desperate to move out. The best moments about living with her parents were remembered with a rosy tint until she actually had to spend time with them. Her father wasn’t too bad – but that was part of the problem too. Because he was so easy going, she never wanted to let him down; meaning she was almost overly cautious in everything she said or did in front of him.

The tour finished in the smallest bedroom with the exposed floorboards and still-to-be-stripped walls. Her father turned in a circle in approval: perhaps picturing the type of study or games room he’d spent years angling for. Charlie was always so good at picking up on the tension between Esther and her mother and had stepped in, steering the conversation away from what a mess the room was towards how nice the nursery was going to be.

‘…Oh, the nursery’s lovely, yes… but are you sure about the yellow…?’ her mother said.

Esther waited by the window, staring down to the empty driveway below. The feeling of serenity that came from Patch and her time in the garden had been replaced by everything she and Charlie had been trying to escape by moving away.

‘…It’s just that yellow’s such an, I don’t know, awkward colour…’

The window handle was cranked down and fixed but Esther could see a hint of a shadow underneath from where it might not have clicked into place properly. It felt like something was nibbling at the back of her neck, tiny teeth gnawing at her nerve endings.

‘…When I was pregnant with Esther, we waited for the scan before deciding how to decorate the room…’

Esther pressed backwards into the window frame, twisting her arm and gripping the handle behind her back, slowly easing it up and then down.

Up-down, up-down … twice didn’t feel enough. What if the window snapped open with a third effort?

Up-down… was three enough?

‘…I’m not so sure about the whole blue is for boys, pink is for girls thing anyway…’

Up-down… that felt a lot better. Four times proved it was locked.