The Perfect Neighbours: A gripping psychological thriller with an ending you won’t see coming
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The door into the pool foyer was open. She stepped in and embraced the heat. There was no one about but she followed voices to a group changing room and went in.
“Come and sit anywhere, Helen. We’re casual here,” Louisa said, bestowing her with a smile that lengthened on the word “casual”.
Helen waited for two young men to move along the bench to make room for her. In pressed polo shirts and shorts, they resembled army physical training instructors, all cropped hair and muscles. The seat was lower than she judged so she made a crash landing and her handbag slammed into her hip. No one noticed because they were looking at Louisa.
“I’m sure you know everyone,” Louisa said to her.
The only familiar face was Mel Mowar’s. Mel a swimming teacher? She didn’t see that one coming, but it fitted Mel’s default position at Louisa’s right-hand side.
Helen scanned the other faces, looking for identifying marks, a habit she picked up as a school teacher. To avoid the embarrassment of not recognizing a pupil or a parent in the street, she made sure their features were imprinted on her memory. It was going to be much harder to memorize this lot with no distinctive clothing style to go on. Louisa was the only one not in a white polo shirt. Hers was coral pink and it enhanced her skin tone.
Sweat pooled at Helen’s armpits. Hoping there’d be a chance for a few lengths in the school pool after the meeting and before the lessons started, she’d put her swimsuit on underneath her tracksuit. The row with Gary had continued until they both lost interest and saw how stupid it was. As part of their passionate making up, she’d agreed to stay away from the open-air pool, so she was now in dire need of a substitute swim. It hadn’t been a difficult compromise to make in the end because she was in no mood to face Sascha again. She couldn’t care less about his feud with Louisa – if anything that lifted him higher in her estimations – but she’d trusted him and he’d taken her for a mug. She caved in about the after-school swim club too. Gary had her interests at heart and persuaded her to go whatever her view of the chairwoman.
“You need to put in your DTS claims to FD,” Louisa was saying.
Helen took a deep breath. Acronyms, it was like being pelted by a typewriter. She felt like a complete outsider. It was another Aldi moment – whenever she ventured out to shop in Dortmannhausen village, she felt an acute sense of foreignness. She’d only ever felt alien once before moving to Germany and that was on a student holiday in Sri Lanka where the people had stared and smiled, and some had asked to have their photo taken with her. It had been a good-natured curiosity and she went home feeling exotic and beautiful. But being foreign in Germany meant awkward supermarket visits where unsmiling cashiers scanned her shopping, rang up her bill and had her change ready before she’d even opened her purse. And now this meeting, on the supposedly home territory of Gary’s school, was pocked with jargon she didn’t understand.
“Let’s move on to Item 4: Paired Teaching,” Louisa said.
Helen checked her watch. Item 4, the bloody woman had started the meeting without her.
The bloody woman was still speaking. “Now this is a new initiative of mine. Darren. I assume you’re working with John?”
The man next to Helen nodded.
“And I’m with Kate.” Louisa paused, her gaze lingering on Helen.
Helen, partnerless, looked down, pulling her sleeves over her hands, feeling like a teenager picked on by the mean girl. Then a shoot of defiance grew in her. “Mel, have you got a partner yet?” she said, pushing a tone of confidence into her question which she didn’t feel.
Mel flushed. “I …”
“Do you want to work with me?” Helen said before Louisa could intervene.
Mel smiled, blushing even redder. Helen smiled back, trying to hide the smugness of her victory over Louisa. This was more like her old self – assertive; inventive; no problem too large; no petty-minded, coral pink chairwoman too small.
But her triumph was short-lived. Louisa trumped her. “Mel’s the changing room monitor. She’s here to take the minutes.” Mel picked up her pen obediently. “But you won’t need a partner, Helen, while you’re observing classes.”
“Observing? I’ve got several years’ experience. I don’t think …”
“Not here you haven’t.” Louisa tapped the edge of her papers against her knee to straighten them out.
“But you’re desperate for teachers. I read the newsletter. Some of you are having to double up classes. What do the rest of you …?” Helen’s voice trailed off; no one was looking at her. She’d been the head coach of the most successful junior squad in the West Midlands but here in this stupid drain of a swimming pool, she was an invisible nobody in over-heavy sports kit. Roll on half-term; she was getting the hell out.
14
Thursday, 6 May
Helen stood on the doorstep to see Gary off to work. Her smile made her face ache; she was turning into a proper housewife. Gary’s mobile rang on the hall table. The screen said: Steve C calling. She grabbed the phone and caught up with him by the car, but Gary cancelled the call.
“Not important then?” she asked.
“It’s just some insurance guy who rings me now and again,” he said, starting the engine. “I’m surprised he bothers; I never buy anything.” He drove off, waving his arm out of the window.
Helen waved until he disappeared round the corner, and she thought it was strange that he’d added an insurance salesman to his list of contacts. But then he was a sociable man with twice as many Facebook friends as she had.
She darted away from the kitchen window when Louisa came across the road. She was carrying a file of papers. The woman lived her life in other people’s houses. What was it this time: Parents’ Association agendas for Audrey Garcia, the American teacher at number 3; spaniel-masking aromatherapy brochures for Karola Barton at number 1; or corrections to the swim club minutes for Mel at number 7?
She cursed herself for hiding – so what if Louisa saw her? She was in her own home. Louisa didn’t control everything; the swim class last night proved that. Louisa had deposited her with the instructor called John, insisting that she couldn’t possibly be let loose with a group of her own until she’d been “assessed”. But John had different ideas and gave her five children out of his class of twelve to teach front crawl.
“You’ll warm to Louisa in the end,” he said.
“How long will that take?”
“Until the Christmas social. She holds it at her house. All the booze you can drink. Best club chair I’ve ever worked for.”
The swimming class had been an excitable bunch of 7 year olds. She recognized one of them as the dark-haired boy from number 6, the house opposite hers. Afterwards his parents introduced themselves in the foyer.
“My name is Dimitris and my wife is Maria. I am an exchange teacher from Greece. I normally run the history department at a school in Athens.”
Helen smiled. “You speak excellent English and I think your son must do too; he understood his swimming lesson.”
“Alexandros learns quickly. Only my wife has no chance to learn.”
“I’m sure she’ll pick it up.” An idea occurred to Helen. “I could help. I’m a teacher too but I’m not working at the moment.”
“You would do that for Maria? I can pay you.”
“I’m sure we can work something out.”
Dimitris spoke rapidly to his wife. She beamed and took Helen’s hand.
She’d driven home knowing she’d turned a corner in her frame of mind. The swimming lesson and the prospect of teaching English made her feel fulfilled. Her contentment lasted into the night as she made love with Gary.
She peered through her kitchen window again but could no longer see Louisa. She must have gone into Mel’s. If the lessons with Maria worked out, she could offer something similar to local German people. She smiled as more warm feelings of usefulness came over her.
The doorbell had a way of shrieking whenever Louisa pressed it. Helen stood still. She’d ignore it, pretend to be out. But she was curious about the paperwork Louisa was carrying. A teeny bit of her ego wondered if the visit was to do with the swim club. John must have reported back how well the newcomer had done and Louisa was calling to offer her more classes. She answered the door.
“I hear you intend to teach English. Are you qualified?” Louisa said, stepping inside without a greeting.
“I was head of PE at my last school,” Helen said and savoured the surprise on Louisa’s face.
But it didn’t last. “The Niers School is clamping down on people who set up businesses for which they aren’t trained.”
“It’s hardly a business; I’m helping a neighbour.” Helen balled her fists. If Louisa thought she was the job police, she could think again.
“Well, I’ve brought some brochures about TESOL courses anyway,” Louisa said. “And while I’m here I can collect your balance.”
“Balance?”
“The skiing trip payment. Surely Gary mentioned it? I organize a trip to Austria. It’s an annual event during half-term.”
The leaflets shook in Helen’s hand. Half-term. Another prison door slammed shut behind her. But who the hell went skiing in May? Didn’t people need snow or was one look from Louisa enough to freeze rain?
“First I’ve heard of it, and I don’t remember Gary mentioning it last year so I don’t think—”
“He excused himself last year to visit you.”
Helen felt annoyed and proud at the same time. Annoyed with Louisa’s insinuation that Gary needed permission to drop out, but proud that he had the balls to stand up to the Dickensweg mafia.
“In that case, I can’t see him fancying it this year either,” she said.
“Oh dear, have I ruined the surprise? He’s already paid the deposit.”
***
She knew she was thrashing, using far more energy than her progress through the water warranted, but there was rage in her limbs and she wanted it out. How could he think of booking a holiday without consulting her? Is that the way their marriage would roll: he made the decisions and she did as she was told? Well, he could forget it. She’d show him and start by returning to this pool despite her promise.
Half a dozen other swimmers were there, word having got round that the pool had opened for the season. Disapproving eyes bored into her as she caused the water to splash and chop. She smashed her wrist against the side, having misjudged her finish. She stood up as the pain throbbed through her arm, adding more fuel to her fury. She pushed off again, narrowly missing a woman who drifted over on her back. She managed a lopsided arm pull with her throbbing hand and speared the water with her good one.
It hadn’t only been the ruddy ski trip that made her mad. Top honours had gone to the tiny white business card that slipped out of the teaching leaflets when she flung them across her hall. Louisa Howard, RELATE Counsellor and on the back she’d written: Call me if you need to talk.
She cleared her goggles but they were misted with tears. That poisonous woman, who tried to tell her what to wear, when to exercise, how to teach, was now saying her marriage was in trouble. How dare she when her own husband was unfaithful?
What could Louisa have seen to make her think it? The sleepless nights? The arguments? Louisa couldn’t know about them. They were nothing. She and Gary were solid. She gripped the goggles with both hands and twisted them. The action hurt because of her bruised wrist but she kept on twisting, squeezing, wringing. If it meant losing the deposit, so what? No way were they spending half-term with Louisa as she scrutinized their marriage.
A figure dived in beside her, making her drop the goggles. Sascha. How dare he come near her? Another one she couldn’t trust.
“Why did you lie to me?” she demanded when he resurfaced. “Why are you hounding my neighbours?” She rubbed her throbbing hand and fought off the urge to slap it against his face.
He ducked under to retrieve her goggles. When he came up she shouted, “Give me those.”
The elderly swimmer glared at her and paddled away.
Sascha hooked the goggles round his finger. “Louisa Howard is a hard woman, isn’t she?” He offered them to her but, as she took them, he snatched them back. “And her husband – what do you know about him?”
She tugged at the strap on the goggles with her good hand.
He tightened his grip and said: “He’s dangerous.” His wet eyelashes had clumped in peaks making his expression deranged.
The menace in his voice made her shudder. She tugged at her goggles, but he yanked them harder and pulled her towards him. She felt his breath on her shoulder. “You know what he’s like, don’t you?” he hissed.
He gave one last pull on the strap. She put out her hand as she fell forward. He put out his. They met palm to palm. The connection tingled through her arm, across her skin. The pain in her wrist intensified and she had to break away.
“Don’t tell me what to think,” she gasped. “Everyone here tells me what to think.”
His eyes were everywhere except on her. Had he felt it too? Eventually he said: “But all people must control their thoughts and actions, all people, Helen.”
She tried to summon the emotions that she knew she should feel – anger, indignation, even fear – but her head echoed with the sound of her name on his lips. She tingled again, not just her arm, all of her felt it. Palm to Palm. What should she do now? To leave would be sensible but why should she? She was fed up with being sensible. Sensible meant sitting through Ordeal by Coffee Morning, watching Louisa dismantle Mel bit by bit. Sensible meant letting the vile woman cross her threshold with her poisoned business card. Sensible meant listening to her instead of making up her own mind about Sascha.
“Would you like to train some lengths?” she heard herself ask.
He handed back her goggles and nodded.
15
The face staring back in the mirror had clown lips that bled into the surrounding flesh. Mel didn’t know how long it had been since she’d last applied lipstick but it had been a while.
Chris had come into the bedroom while she was dozing after her heavy meal – an extra egg tonight, and the portion of chips seemed big. She was tired after picking up Murdo from school. It was nice to spend time with the youngest Howard boy while Toby and Leo were at their music lessons and their mother had a governors’ meeting. She once heard another mother telling her child: “Murdo doesn’t speak because he doesn’t understand.” But the woman was wrong. Murdo understood things very well.
When Louisa had returned home, she was still tense about the man in her front garden. Was it the same man who’d accosted her by Chris’s car? Thank God he ran off. She never told Chris, although she knew she should have done. What if he was dangerous? At least three times he’d been loitering in the close. What if he broke into a house next or approached a child?
“Come on,” Chris had said when he interrupted her nap. “It’s time you and me made a night of it. There are some clothes on the chair, and I’ve seen the lovely Helen wearing this shade of lipstick so let’s see what it does for you. The table’s booked for eight.”
Her heart pounded at the thought of going out. It was hard enough going to swim club every week. She could tell him she was a bit off colour. He’d believe her because she so often was ill: headaches, wheezing, palpitations, every cough and cold Louisa’s boys brought home. But he’d already changed. The silk shirt looked new and expensive. She didn’t want to let him down.
She slipped on the kaftan he’d left for her. The coarse cloth chafed her nipples. She would get sore again. It wasn’t a colour she would have chosen. It even smelled yellow, sort of sickly, but at least it hid a lot of bulges. She was more conscious of her weight when they went out. The German waitresses would be goddesses, wearing crisp blouses and money bags strapped around their slender hips. She turned sideways to look in the mirror and blinked away tears. She looked pregnant.
***
“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t go back.” He’d been home for all of five minutes when he spotted her swimming things on the washing line. “Was he there?”
Palm to palm. Helen suppressed an urge to lie. “Yes, I spoke to Sascha Jakobsen. Why shouldn’t I?”
He shrugged and looked disappointed rather than angry. He seemed ready to drop the subject, but she was still boiling about the ski trip and Louisa’s business card, and wanted a fight.
“He could be a terrorist, a bigamist or a serial killer for all I know, but maybe he had a reason to destroy Louisa Howard’s garden. Maybe she sent him one of her RELATE cards.” She gave a short bitter laugh. “That nearly had me reaching for the garden shears. Only it wasn’t her wisteria I wanted to deadhead.”
She sighed at the bemused expression on Gary’s face. “Let me explain. She thinks our marriage is in trouble. In her expert opinion we need counselling. So what are you waiting for? You better give her a call.”
Gary opened his mouth but she continued, “Or maybe it’s too late for that. Should we skip that neighbour and go direct to Karola Barton at number 1? I hear she’s a trained lawyer.” She started to sob.
Gary held out his arms and she collapsed into them. But she pulled away again.
“How could you book us a skiing holiday without even telling me? We really are in trouble, aren’t we?”
He gasped, sounding close to tears himself. “Don’t say that, don’t ever say that. The holiday was meant to be fun, a chance to get out of here and see Austria. I thought you’d be pleased.”
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