The Other Side Of The Wall: A Gripping Psychological Thriller Page 7

  “We won’t need to fill it in at all,” Kate says to Sam. “They’ll do it for us if we’re lucky. Any sign of the removal van?”

  “I rang them and they’re about ten minutes away now – traffic apparently. I met a really snippy neighbour though. The guy whose house we parked outside. Not impressed. He was actually going to call the Guards about it.”

  Kate rolls her eyes. “Seriously? I did tell you not to park there though.”

  “Ah come on, I wasn’t even blocking his driveway. And then he started going on about the removal van and saying they need to park down at the green. Can you imagine me and the moving guys carrying our furniture up the road, piece by piece?” Kate smiles at that. She’s the old Kate when she smiles – the silver-blonde with the glint in her eye who caught his attention twenty years earlier. Glimpses of that Kate keep him going when they’re drowning in the mediocrity of credit-card bills and school lunches and will we have spaghetti bolognese for tea. No doubt it’s the same for her. Can she still see the person he was then? The idealist who was going to change the world, before he settled for the healthy pay packet? But then that same pay packet bought them this place, and allowed her to give up work – ideals don’t pay the bills.

  One unexpected splash later and the smile is gone, and both of them are reaching to pull Jamie out of the pond. It’s shallow, and when he manages to stand up the water only goes to his knees, but he’s soaked. He bursts into tears as Kate pulls him out, hugging his wet body to her.

  “We need to get rid of it,” she mutters to Sam as she walks back towards the house, Jamie still crying in her arms.

  “It was his own fault, Dad, don’t worry,” says Seth, who is still throwing stones into the pond.

  Sam nods, watching the ripples expand out with each splash. So much for day one.

  Chapter 12

  Sunday – June 19th 2016

  He paces up and down the living room, wondering what possessed him to stay here. He should have run – he absolutely should have run. Anywhere. The airport, the ferry – anywhere. That’s it – he’s going. In his bedroom, he starts throwing clothes into a bag. He doesn’t need much – his mother will send him a credit card and he’ll buy more. He stuffs his phone in his pocket and picks up his keys from the coffee table, and just then the doorbell rings. He drops the keys on the floor and his heart feels like it’s going to jump right out of his chest, and he knows then he should have run – he absolutely should have run.

  He doesn’t move. The doorbell rings again. Still he stands, promising himself that if he can have just one more chance, he’ll go and never come back. But today is not the day for chances.

  The doorbell rings a third time, and then the banging starts. And the voice. Low and calm and resigned.

  “Open the door, Austin, or I will break it down. I promise you, it will be worse if I have to break it down.”

  He moves to the door.

  “I will literally cut out your tongue and staple it to your mother’s kitchen table if you do not open this door.”

  He takes three steps forward and reaches for the handle, while voices in his head scream at him to push past and run. But there’s no pushing past. They’re both inside the apartment now, and the door is shut.

  “Nice pad you’ve got here – I like the views,” he says, looking down at the rooftops and the river below. “Very swish. I suppose this is how stockbrokers live. Costs a fair bit, I’d say?”

  “Yeah, that’s why I didn’t have the cash for you – my rent was due, plus two of my customers didn’t pay me last week. But I’ll have it all for you by Tuesday.” Austin does everything to keep his voice steady, but it quivers on the last words and he knows he sounds like he’s about to cry.

  “See, that’s the problem – you need to get the cash up front. No money, no coke. Which is what I should have done with you – but I thought we were working together. I thought I could trust you.”

  “You can trust me! Two days – that’s all I need.”

  “But you were supposed to contact me to meet on Friday, and you didn’t. Do you think it’s nice to do that? To leave me for two days? I think it’s a bit rude, to be honest.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I wanted to get the problem sorted before I had to tell you. I thought maybe you’d forgotten . . . ”

  “Forgotten?”

  “Forgotten that we were to meet two days ago . . . ” Austin trails off.

  “What do you think I am? Some kind of imbecile who just forgets he’s owed forty grand? Is that what you mean?”

  “No! No way. I knew you didn’t forget the money. I just thought you forgot to meet up . . . ”

  “But I didn’t. You were supposed to contact me. And you didn’t. Because you hoped I’d just write it off. And you’d get to keep the cash.”

  “That’s not how it was at all – I just –”

  “I can’t have that, you know. I can’t have people like you running around thinking you’ve got one up on me.” He picks up a cream silk cushion from the couch. “Not good for business. You know?”

  When he sees the gun, his knees give way. He begs but no-one is listening. He hears the click and feels the softness of the cushion against the side of his head. He screams but it’s inside his mind. There’s no time for a sound to come out before his lifeless body hits the floor, his blood seeping slowly into the deep-pile carpet.

  Chapter 13

  Kate – Friday, June 24th

  Oh God, would it never end? Kate’s really not sure she can get through the final week of school runs. All that driving and waiting and waving. And the small talk. Dear Jesus, the small talk! The weather. The teacher. The “Do you think they’re getting enough Irish homework?” conversation, on repeat. The stuff she thought she was missing when she couldn’t have it. And now – overdose. All for the sake of picking up two little boys who mostly couldn’t care less that she was there every day, instead of the bus they used to take to crèche. Okay, that’s not really true. But sometimes, when they’re really tired and grumpy, she wonders if maybe they did like it better when they were heading off with their friends.

  And then there’s the hour in between. Why on earth couldn’t the school have Junior Infants finish at the same time as First Class? Or at least provide some kind of supervised homework club. Sitting in the car with hyper Jamie every day isn’t good for her sanity, and it’s probably not great for his either. And with just one week to go, all attempts at story-time or chat-time are done – he’s getting the iPad and there’s no way she’s feeling guilty about it, even if his teacher walks past the car and waves in.

  Weaving in and out of Rock Road lunchtime traffic, she switches on the radio. Nothing but foaming-at-the-mouth texters at this time of day. One person calls for the death penalty for whoever killed that stockbroker last week, and the next person says he got what he deserves if he was taking drugs. The host keeps going on about him being a politician’s son, as if that somehow makes a difference either way. She switches off.

  On autopilot, she signals left at the turn for the school. A DART speeds by and she feels a pang for her commute, and regret that she didn’t appreciate it at the time. Snaking up the narrow road, dipping in and out behind parked cars to let other drivers by, she finds a spot and pulls in. Ten minutes to spare – excellent.

  She sits back in the seat and opens Facebook. But before she has a chance to scroll through more than half a dozen pictures, a knock on the window startles her. Looking up, she sees Ruth’s eager smile beaming in. Great. Now she can’t even have those ten minutes on Facebook.

  She rolls down the window, and attempts a friendly smile.

  “Are you walking down?” Ruth asks. “So warm today, isn’t it? I hardly know what to wear these mornings – the temperature keeps changing. I had a jumper on yesterday, and I’m in a T-shirt today.” She holds out her arms so that Kate can see she is in fact wearing a T-shirt. “But thank God it’s Friday!”

  Thank God indeed, thinks Kate, ope
ning the door and pocketing her phone – nothing like spending ten extra minutes with Ruth.

  “So how is your new house going, Kate? You just moved in, did you?”

  “Yep, this day last week – so far, so good.”

  “Ah brilliant, you must be delighted. Your old house was so small, wasn’t it? I’d say the boys are only thrilled.”

  “Well, it wasn’t that small – but yes, they’re happy to have their own bedrooms.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean it was small, I just meant your new house must be so much bigger – we must call out to see you there sometime!”

  “Sure, absolutely,” says Kate, making a note to put Ruth’s kid at the bottom of the playdate list.

  “Have you met your neighbours – are they nice?”

  “We haven’t really met anyone yet,” Kate replies, deciding the snotty man with the parking hang-up from across the road doesn’t count. “I get the impression most people on the road work during the day, so there’s nobody around. I spotted one old lady who lives two doors up from us, but haven’t met her yet. And we haven’t seen our next-door neighbours either – maybe they’re away or something.”

  “Ooh, took their kids out of school, did they? I totally get why people do it, but it’s just not fair on the teachers.”

  “Well, I don’t know if they have kids or not and I don’t know for sure if they’re away – I just mean I haven’t seen them yet. Though in fairness, there’s not a whole lot going on at school at this time of year anyway – fair play to them if they did, I reckon.”

  “Hmm, but if everyone did it, where would we be?”

  Not walking down the road having this monstrously boring conversation with you anyway, Kate thinks, but says nothing.

  “Are you going away anywhere this summer, Kate, or maybe not with the move?”

  “My mum has a B&B in Salthill so we’ll head there as soon as the boys finish up. Sam’s going to come down at weekends, or at least some weekends – there’s a huge amount of work to do on the house too.”

  “Oh Galway – that’ll be so lovely for you, Kate. Just perfect. And even if the weather’s not great, sure it’s not costing you anything if it’s your mum’s house. Lovely.”

  They walk in silence for a few moments, then Ruth starts up again.

  “We’re off to France. Driving over. We do it every year. I know flying is quicker, but if we have the car we can drive around, see the little villages and the countryside – really show the country to the kids. Otherwise, sure, they could be anywhere. It’s not a holiday if you’re not learning something new, is it?”

  “Absolutely, Ruth, absolutely. We’ll be down in Galway learning about candy-floss and ice cream and the odd Supermac, I’d say. We’ll come back in September fluent in arcade games.”

  “You will, of course,” says Ruth, though she seems unsure how to take it.

  Feeling guilty, Kate pulls it back.

  “I’m kidding – there’s loads to do down there – and I know what you mean – it’s great to have a look around when you visit somewhere new. You guys will have a ball in France.”

  Turning into the school grounds, they wander towards the usual spot, where a group of Junior Infants’ mums are already gathered, plus Joe, the token stay-at-home dad. Kate is taking out her phone, wondering if she can get away with checking some messages, when blissfully it rings.

  “Kate? Hello?”

  It’s her mother.

  “Hi, Mum, how are you?” Kate says, signalling to Ruth that she needs to take the call.

  “I’m good, love – how are you and the boys? Are you all set for next week?”

  “Absolutely – they finish on Tuesday and we’re coming down to you on Wednesday. I cannot wait.”

  “Oh, is everything okay? Is the new house okay?”

  “It’s fine – lots of work needed, but plenty of space. It’s not that I’m dying to get out of there, I’m just fed up with the school runs, and fed up having no-one to talk to during the day when Sam’s at work.”

  “Don’t you meet other mums at the school?”

  “Yes, but one or two of them are just painful,” says Kate, walking further away from Ruth. “And the rest all know each other for ages whereas I’m kind of a lurker. I hate the school run.”

  “It can’t be that bad – you just don’t know the other parents yet.”

  Kate moves across the yard, making sure she’s out of earshot. “I’ve been doing this since January and there’s literally one mum I’ve become friends with, and she’s only here Mondays and Tuesdays. She works the rest of the week. I think I should have done that – gone part-time instead of giving up.”

  “Well, would you think about going back – try to get something part-time?”

  “I might. Or I might try working for myself from home. We have a spare room in the new house, and I was looking at it this morning – it would make a great home office. I need to have a think about it. But yes, I’m going to lose my mind if this is all I do every day.”

  “Kate, dare I say it – you’re never happy – you spent the last two years wishing you could be there to collect the boys.”

  “I know, Mum, but maybe there’s something in between. I need to use my brain again.”

  “Ah, I know, I get it. I never saw myself being a stay-at-home mum either – well, you know what happened there.”

  Kate nods into the phone.

  “What about the golf – doesn’t that keep you busy?”

  “Yes, but like, not every day. I think I need something a bit more challenging on the mental side, you know?” Kate says, glancing up at the school doors. No sign of Jamie yet.

  “I know, love. And what about Miller – has he called to see the new house?”

  “Yes. Twice already and we’re only there a week. I think I need to set some ground rules there.”

  “Be nice, Kate. You know he means well. And he just wants to be able to spend more time with you and the kids now you’re living so close.”

  “Ha! He barely acknowledges the kids. Which is fine with me, to be honest, but it’s just awkward. Anyway, Jamie’s class just came out – gotta go! I’ll phone you over the weekend.”

  “Make sure you do.”

  “Bye, Mum, bye.”

  Jamie sees her and runs into her arms. Holding him in a tight hug, she kisses the top of his head and inhales his small-boy smell. He steps back and smiles up at her, proudly showing a “Good Work” sticker on his school jumper.

  “I missed you today, Mum,” he says, hugging her again.

  I missed you too, she thinks, as she hugs him back. They’re not so bad really, these kids of hers.

  Chapter 14

  Kate– Monday, June 27th

  Someone is waving frantically at Kate as she pulls into her driveway – a small figure with flying arms and flyaway white hair, gesturing at her from two doors up. What now? All she wants to do is go into the house to have the coffee she would have had earlier if the household hadn’t descended into the usual Monday-morning chaos of unmade lunches and lost shoes.

  “Hellooo!” says the lady, beckoning her over.

  Letting out one last sigh while still out of earshot, Kate plasters on a neighbourly smile and walks around to Number 24.

  “Come in, come in,” says the lady, walking into her house and beckoning for Kate to follow.

  Inside the front door, she has a package, which she hands to Kate with great ceremony.

  “For you. It was delivered about half an hour ago but you weren’t there. And next door are at work. So I took it in and minded it for you.” She somehow make Kate’s absence sound like a failing.

  “I was taking my kids to school – thank you for accepting it,” Kate says, stepping backwards towards the front door again.

  “I’m Rosemary. Come on in for a cup of tea!”

  “Oh, you’re so kind to offer, but I really have to go – we have so much to do in the house – we’ve only just moved in. Sorry, I’m Kate, by the
way.” She’s unsure whether or not she should shake hands.

  Rosemary has no interest in such formalities and, taking the package back from Kate, she places it on the mahogany table in the hall, and ushers her into the kitchen.

  “Come on, you can spare five minutes – everyone needs a cup of tea.”

  If Kate thought her new kitchen was old-fashioned, Rosemary’s is like stepping back to the 1940s. Green-painted cupboards surround an old porcelain sink, complete with the orange stains of time. A round table sits in the middle of the room, covered with a lace tablecloth and topped with a small bowl of artificial posies.

  Rosemary gestures to Kate to sit down and puts a kettle on the range – a range!

  “Your kitchen is lovely,” Kate says, still not sure what to make of the time-warp.

  “Oh, I know it’s old-fashioned, but I like it this way. It was always good enough for my Bob when he was alive, and I’m not about to change it now. I’d say you’ve a good bit of work to do on poor Mrs Osborne’s house though, God rest her soul.” Rosemary crosses herself.