The Open House

Chapter Fourteen

Barb

It’s interesting what people will tell you if you give off an air of superiority, appear to them as though you are someone who should be in the loop. I’ve had that skill since I was a young woman. I’ve put it to good use over the years. Obviously, I’m not the only one, though.

You can be as active or as reclusive as you like, but in the village of Stockwood one thing is for sure – there’ll always be someone who knows everything about everyone. Or thinks they do. Each generation has one such person. When I lived at Apple Grove with Bern, Tim and Nick, that person was Geraldine Harvey. Now, Amber tells me it’s Davina, which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.

I was still living at the house when Davina moved in across the road. It was me who approached her first, though. I always like to welcome new villagers; it’s only polite. It didn’t take long for me to ascertain she was a busybody. I was sitting on her brand-new, cream leather sofa, while she watched me with an almost unblinking focus as I sipped from the thick, heavy china mug – I’ve always preferred high-quality bone china myself. I remember my sense of unease. She was afraid I was going to spill my drink on her sofa, I could tell. Or onto the impossibly spotless cream carpet. Only people with no children in their family had such décor.

I remember being confused with the mixture of cheap tacki–ness with the more luxurious items and wondering if maybe her and her husband’s tastes were polar opposite. She asked a lot of questions, most of which I gave vague answers to. I got the distinct impression she didn’t like me and had only invited me in so she could grill me on the village and its inhabitants. I hadn’t stayed long, not long enough to even set eyes on her husband, Wayne, although she spoke as though he was there.

When she saw me several days later, she was keen to cross the road and chat with me. It was only a matter of weeks before I was due to move into my bungalow at the sheltered accommodation and I knew Nick, Amber and Finley were preparing to move in. I didn’t tell Davina any of this. As it turned out, she wasn’t interested in anything I had to say anyway; she was more concerned with what she’d found out about the couple at number 46. Of course, I already knew they’d been having issues. I was fully aware he’d been accused of having sexual relations with a minor. Nick had let it slip. It seemed I’d missed the arrest, though. Davina said she’d seen it all. Had practically invited herself into my house so she could inform me of the details.

It’d been the first and last time I’d let her in.

She was a nosy busybody. And a dangerous one.

I didn’t trust her then, and I don’t now.

Chapter Fifteen

Amber

The back of my throat dries in an instant and my body weakens. I reach to the arm of the sofa and slump down on it.

‘What man upstairs?’ I ask, fearful of the answer.

‘The one you were talking about with Richard,’ Leo says, his shoulders hunched.

I didn’t specifically mention a man, I don’t think, and nothing about someone being upstairs as far as I’m aware – but I’m relieved for the time being. He’s overheard my conversation and exaggerated it; he hasn’t actually seen a man upstairs.

‘That’s not what I said, Leo. If you listen in on other people’s conversations, sometimes you pick up the wrong idea, especially as you could only hear what I was saying, not what Richard said. There’s no one upstairs – it’s fine.’ I’m hoping there’s more conviction in my voice than I feel.

‘To be fair, Mum,’ Finley sits up and joins in. ‘You were the one who ran up there to check, and you did say to Richard that you thought someone was in the house. I heard you, too.’

Honesty is the best policy. I smile; my attempt at appearing unperturbed.

‘I had a funny feeling, that’s all. It’s because I knew a lot of people had been inside our house. I don’t really like the thought of strangers having been here, that’s all. And I let my imagination run away with me.’

‘Like how I do sometimes at night?’ Leo looks up at me thoughtfully. ‘When I have my bad dreams?’

‘Yes, a bit like that,’ I say and slide from the sofa to sit on the floor. I pop my arm around Leo’s shoulder and pull him in towards me. He snuggles in and I breathe in the comforting smell of his mop of sandy-brown hair. Leo inherited my colouring; Finley is darker, like his dad. But they both have our blue eyes.

‘I still want Finley with me.’ Leo’s little voice is muffled in my jumper.

‘Sure thing.’

After some coaxing, and a further check of the upstairs rooms, Leo is now happily in the bath, and Finley is sitting on the closed toilet seat reading a book.

It takes longer than usual to settle the boys into bed, Leo demanding more stories and Finley unwilling to put his Nintendo Switch away because he was at a “crucial point” in the game. They both wanted to keep their lights on. I’m angry with myself for my lack of diligence. Just because I was in the kitchen, and talking quietly, didn’t mean they couldn’t hear me. I have always let myself think if I can’t see them, they can’t see me – naively, like a child – and it also stretches to believing if I whisper, I can’t be heard. Despite being caught out numerous times in the past, it seems I still continue to hold this erroneous belief.

Light floods my bedroom as I press the switch. It’s a bit early for me to go to bed, but I want to be upstairs with the boys. I’ll read for a while. I stand in the doorway for a moment, my eyes searching my bedroom again, darting from wall to wall, object to object. How would I know if people had touched my things, run their hands over my bed sheets? Would anyone have been as brazen as to open any cupboards or drawers?

I’m being stupid. I try to remember Jo’s wise words: people have open houses all the time. It’s commonplace – I know this. And I’ve never heard of anything untoward happening at any of these events.

So, why do I feel so on edge?

Living here on my own has made me more paranoid about safety. When Nick was here, I was never once concerned about people breaking in. I suppose I always assumed he’d protect us if there was ever any need. Him being a copper also gave me an extra sense of security. When he left, I kept up a strong front – not just for the boys’ sakes, but for my own too – but deep down I feel more vulnerable now. Although, I’m guessing, if it came to it, I’d put up a good enough fight; what mother wouldn’t do everything in her power to protect her children? I just don’t want to find out if I’d be capable. I don’t want to ever face such a test.

I walk to the TV and turn it on; I need background noise tonight, or I won’t settle either. A film is on, from the Eighties by the look of it. Usually this would lighten my mood, as I love the films from that time – but not tonight. I don’t recognise it, and don’t even bother to press the info button to find out its title.

A noise wakes me. I must’ve drifted off while reading as I’m slumped over my book. The TV has gone on standby mode – the screen is black but there’s still a power light on; it glows orange. My mind immediately concludes there’s an intruder. My earlier thought about how I’d cope with such an eventuality may now be something I’m about to find out.

Adrenaline forces out all traces of sleep. I lie dead still, barely breathing. I remain in this state of catatonia for a minute or so before my muscles release me, and I slowly shift myself out from under the duvet. I bend over, slipping the baseball bat from beneath the bed frame. I grip it in my right hand and stand up. My ears are hyper-alert; I can hear every noise: the hum of electric, the gentle breaths of the boys in their rooms, and my pulse as it whacks against my neck. Then, I hear a creak on the stairs.

I suck in my breath and hold it.

There really is someone in the house.

I clench the bat even tighter and raise it slightly, getting into defensive mode, ready to strike the invader. I’m not going to hesitate. I’ll hit first, ask questions later.

A thought occurs to me, springing up from nowhere. I’ve given Carl a key to my house; he’s the only other person who could let themselves in. Even Nick doesn’t have a key anymore. I don’t really know Carl, yet I’ve entrusted him. I screw my eyes up tight. For God’s sake, calm down. He’s an estate agent and has been for about fifteen years. Of course he can be trusted.

I’m at the door to my bedroom now. I press my ear against it as close as I dare without moving it – I always leave it ajar in case Leo has a nightmare and needs me. I don’t want to alert whoever’s inside; make him aware I’m awake. And armed with a weapon. The bat slips a little in my grip – sweat lubricating the wood. Nick left the bat here, for me. In case. I never imagined I’d have to use it.

‘Mum, mum … MUM!’

My blood runs cold through my veins as though it’s turning to ice. Leo’s cries pierce through my skin, straight to my bones. It’s probably only for a split second, but my limbs go to jelly before they burst into action. I fling the door of my bedroom open and race across the landing, eyes scanning the immediate area in front of me before launching into Leo’s room, bat raised, expecting to see a figure hunched over him, hurting him.

‘I’m … here. I’m … here,’ I say, my voice weak and breathless, the words sticking to my tongue like toffee. The night lamp gives off a soft, warm, orangey glow, casting shadows on the walls. I squint, trying to make my eyes adjust in the dimness. I don’t think anyone else is in the room, but I smack the main light on with the palm of my free hand anyway.

‘Did you see him? He was there, just there. Did you get him?’ Leo pants. His eyes are wide and bloodshot, frantically casting around the room. That’s how I can tell he’s had a nightmare; it’s the telltale sign.

Despite this, I turn to check the area again. To allay Leo’s fears, or my own, I can’t tell.

‘There’s no one here, baby. It was a dream.’

I struggle with the notion there might still be someone in the house, though. I did hear a noise – the creak of a stair.

‘Why don’t I go and see anyway, eh? I’ll make doubly sure for you, then you’ll be able to go back to sleep. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ Leo whimpers. His grasp on my arms loosens, but he doesn’t let go. I gently prise him off me.

‘I’ll be two shakes of a lamb’s tail,’ I say brightly. This saying usually garners a smile from him, but his face remains stony now.

‘Be careful, won’t you?’ he says, instead.

‘I’m going to close your door for a minute. All right?’

I don’t wait for an answer, I just shut it. I don’t want him to see me walking with the bat raised as he’ll know I’m scared too. Finley’s door is closed tight. I can’t believe he didn’t wake up with Leo’s screams; he must be in a deep sleep. I open the door and stick my head around to check all is well in there. His Star Wars duvet is half-on, half-off him; one pale leg sticks awkwardly out. Satisfied, I steadily descend the stairs. With my back against the wall, I slide slowly downwards. There’s some light seeping from the open lounge door, which is illuminating the first part of the hallway. I’d obviously forgotten to close the curtains as I went to bed so early and the streetlights are still on.

Hesitating at the bottom, I strain to hear any sound that’s out of place. Nothing now. No movement that I can make out. No footsteps, no heavy breathing. I don’t know what I was expecting. My muscles relax a little, and my heart rate begins to return to its usual pace as I steal through the lounge into the kitchen, checking the back door’s locked. The fight-or-flight response is subsiding. I feel somewhat proud of myself; at least I didn’t flee – I was ready to front up to the threat. Fight for my little family.

But I’m extremely relieved it doesn’t look as though my fighting skills are going to be required.

With one last look around downstairs, I go back into the hallway. As I reach the front door, I check that too. And for good measure, slide the key chain across. Not that it’d be enough to prevent someone forcing their way in, but it makes me feel better.

‘Everything’s fine, Leo,’ I say as I return to his room. He’s sitting up, knees drawn to his chest, head resting on them. He looks so little. I prop the bat up just outside his door and walk in and sit next to him. I pull the duvet over us both. ‘I’ll stay with you if you like?’

He stares at me for a moment. ‘I think I’ll be all right, actually, Mum.’

‘Oh, okay. If you’re sure. You can bunk in my room if you’d prefer. It’s bigger.’ I smile and stroke his hair. He ponders this for a few seconds.

‘Well, if you’d feel better with me there, then I could do.’

Bless my little boy. ‘That would make me feel better, yes,’ I say.

‘Can I bring Monkey A?’

Monkey A was his first cuddly monkey. Barb gave it to him when he was one. Since then he’s collected cuddly monkeys and named them, predictably, Monkey B, Monkey C and so on. He’s on Monkey T now, but his first is always his go-to one when he’s frightened.

‘Of course.’

And it’s as though he can sense I don’t want to be on my own either. This business about only twelve of the thirteen people making it out of my home has really creeped me out.

However, it seems I was wrong about there being an intruder tonight, more so that it was Carl. All the same, tomorrow I’m paying him a visit. One, to find out about the open house, and two, to take my key from him – this episode has given me cause for concern and I’d rather know I have the key in my possession. From now on, he’ll have to arrange any viewings with my knowledge and I’ll give him the key and get him to return it after each one.

Maybe I’ll be really lucky and Carl will have already lined up a buyer from the open house – then I won’t have to worry about any of this anymore. It’s a shame I can’t just leave all this house-selling business to Nick and pack me and the boys up and head to Kent, stay with Richard. But, sadly, Leila, Richard’s ex-wife, isn’t being as accommodating as Nick – although guilt plays a huge part in his amenability. Until I sell my house, Richard’s tied up financially without much hope of being able to afford another mortgaged property.

With Leo now settled in the bed beside me, I pray I can drift off to sleep despite my mind working overtime.

The morning light can’t come soon enough for me.

Chapter Sixteen

Amber

‘Mum! Mum, where’s my PE kit?’

‘Hang on, Finley. I’ll be there in a sec,’ I shout, my voice muted as my head’s currently jammed inside the dishwasher. The stupid clip on the runner has come off again. I’m fed up with having to fish it out and struggle to pop it back in place again every time I use it. I should wash it all by hand, but admittedly, shoving it in the dishwasher means I can make the place look tidier more quickly. Just in case of viewings.

‘I left it there. Now it’s gone,’ he whines.

I wince as I bang my head on the metal door when I try to manoeuvre myself back out. ‘Shit!’

‘Oooh, Mummy said a bad word,’ I hear Leo say as he bounds into the kitchen, his school shirt half-untucked from his grey trousers. I note there’s an inch gap from the end of his trousers to his feet, pink skin visible. Damn, those boys are growing too quickly. I don’t want to fork out on new uniform really, not when the school I’m hoping to get them into in Kent has black trousers as its uniform.

‘I said shoot, actually.’

‘It’s not right to tell lies, Mum. Nanna says so.’

‘Well, she’s right, of course. People shouldn’t tell lies. I’m sorry.’

Leo grins with what appears to be a smug satisfaction. Kids these days. Because I’ve not gone immediately to help Finley, he hollers again. I find him standing in the hallway in the middle of piles of shoes, boots, and wellies that he’s dragged from the under-stair storage space.

‘Finley! Was there any need to make such a mess?’ I haven’t got the time, or energy after my sleepless night to put everything back neatly before taking them to school now.

‘Got it!’ He holds up his bag triumphantly, steps over the chaos he’s created and goes into the lounge. The bag had been to the side; there’d been no need to pull anything out in the first place. I kick some of the shoes back underneath the stairs, then bend and sweep the rest under with an arm. It’ll have to do for now.

‘Right, come on then, my little destroyer – let’s get out of here. And you, Leo. Get your school bag please.’

‘I don’t know where it is,’ he says. I suppress the wail building inside my lungs.

‘Where’s the last place you remember seeing it?’

‘In my bedroom. I took it there when Dad and Nanna dropped us back after Maccies on Friday.’

‘Have you checked there?’ My voice is filled with an exasperation I haven’t felt in ages. It’s not the end of the world, and it goes with the territory. It’s only a few things that have been slightly annoying this morning, but my lack of sleep and my worry about the missing viewer from yesterday have all taken a toll,and I’m snappy and irritable. I just want this morning to go smoothly so I don’t turn up to work a tight ball of stress before even beginning the day.

I don’t bother waiting for a reply, I run up the stairs to look for it myself.

It’s not there. Now I come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing it over the weekend. What’s the betting it’s in Nick’s bloody car.

‘Anything important in it?’ I ask when I get back downstairs.

‘My lunchbox, my spellings and my reading folder,’ he states clearly.

‘Well, no lunchbox required as it’s a school-lunch day,’ I say. They only have school lunches twice a week, the rest of the time it’s packed lunches. I chose Monday for one of the days as it’s the one I’m least likely to be prepared for after a busy weekend. And then they have one on Thursday as I’ll have generally run out of nutritional – and permissible by the school – items to put in their lunches until I go shopping Thursday evening. ‘And the rest is going to have to wait as I assume Dad will have already left for work.’

‘I didn’t leave it in the car. It’s in my room. You didn’t look properly.’ He pouts and crosses his arms.

‘But you said you couldn’t find it either?’

‘That’s true.’ He puts a finger to his lips and looks up to the ceiling in a “thinking” pose. ‘Well, someone must’ve taken it then,’ he says.