The Other Side Of The Wall: A Gripping Psychological Thriller Page 8

  “We do, but we’ll get there. Don’t worry about tea for me,” Kate says, waving away the cup that’s coming her way. “I’ll just have a glass of water if that’s okay.”

  “No tea? I could make you coffee – I have a jar of coffee in the back here somewhere.” She begins to rummage through a cupboard. “I remember we had it for Bob’s wake, and I’m sure we didn’t use it all.”

  “Honestly, I’m fine, I don’t need coffee either. Water is great. Really.”

  Rosemary frowns, obviously perplexed at Kate’s lack of interest in tea, and fills a glass of water from the tap. She places it on the table.

  “Biscuit?” she asks, opening a tin of USA and offering it to Kate.

  “No, thank you, I still need to get breakfast – I probably shouldn’t have biscuits before breakfast.”

  Rosemary looks at her watch, perhaps trying to work out why anyone wouldn’t have had breakfast by quarter past nine on a Monday morning, but she says nothing and puts the lid back on the biscuit tin.

  “So have you met anyone else yet?” she asks, pulling on a small pair of silver-rimmed glasses, inspecting her new neighbour.

  “No, not really – you’re the first!” Kate says brightly, trying to make up for not being a tea-drinker. “Well, actually, my husband did meet the man from across the road – Number 34. He got quite cross with Sam for parking outside his house.”

  Rosemary takes the bait. “Ah, you met Noel.” Her eyes light up behind the glasses. “Yes, Noel is very protective of his house, his garden, his child, and his precious wife. Georgia is her name, but you probably won’t have seen her because she’s always at work. All day. I don’t know when she sees the child at all. I know it’s the fashion these days but, between you and me, I don’t think it’s right for mothers to be out at work all the time.”

  Kate smiles a beatific smile. “I used to work full-time, and I’m thinking of going back actually. I think it’s good for kids to see that both parents can earn a living.”

  “Well, of course,” says Rosemary, “but you probably weren’t working the whole time, I bet. That child never sees her mother. She’s off in her childminder’s house after school every day, and only gets home when Georgia picks her up at six or seven o’clock. And she has no brothers or sisters – it must be lonely. How many do you have?”

  “Brothers and sisters?” Kate asks.

  “No, children – how many children?”

  “Oh sorry, I’ve two boys. Seth and Jamie. How old is the little girl across the road?”

  “Annabel? She’s ten. Noel was well into his forties when he met Georgia – she’s a lot younger. He’s no looker, Noel, but he has a fair bit of money. And Georgia’s no fool. She knew just how to play it. Now she has it all – nice house, nice car, a child, a husband who’d do anything for her, and she can swan around all day doing her job in digital marketing – whatever that is when it’s at home.”

  “Oh, I’m a digital marketer too – that’s funny.”

  Rosemary gives her a quizzical look. “So it’s a real job? When Georgia said it, I kind of thought she was making it up. Like maybe she worked on reception somewhere but wanted to make herself sound important.”

  Kate smiles. “Yes, it’s a real job. It’s just marketing really, but online – on the internet – instead of the old-school way.”

  “Well, I don’t know much about the internet really. Don’t have it here in the house and never will – no need for it if you ask me. And what does your husband do, Kate?”

  “He’s a trader.” Seeing confusion on Rosemary’s face, Kate elaborates. “He buys and sells stocks and shares. So basically he spends all day watching the stock market, and trying to buy low and sell high, to make money for his clients. He’s very good at it.”

  “Oh, like that poor fella who was killed – Maureen Granger’s son. I voted for her once, you know. Awful thing. About her son, I mean, not her.” She pauses to think about it for a moment. “So your husband does that job too – is that why you stopped working? Because he has a good job and you don’t need to work now?”

  Ouch. “My job was also very good, but I found it hard to keep up the hours and be there for the kids,” Kate explains, taking a sip of tepid tap water. “Sam can’t leave the office during the day, so it always fell on me to run to the school or crèche if one of them was sick. Eventually it all just got too stressful and I decided to take a break and be with the kids.”

  “It’s lovely being with them, isn’t it? I was always at home with ours. You never get those days back.”

  “Oh, I know, and on that note, I’d better go and get something done in the house before it’s time to pick them up.” She gets up, rinses out her glass and puts it on the draining board. “Thanks for inviting me in and for taking the package – it was nice to meet you, Rosemary.”

  “Not at all, any time. And sure I’ll see you again. I think we’re the only two here in the mornings. So we’ll do tea again. Or water.”

  Rosemary walks Kate to the door and hands her the package.

  “Oh, I forgot to say – there was a man calling at your door while you were out too. Tall, skinny fella with longish hair and glasses. Looked a bit like a scrawny owl. Or do I mean tawny owl?”

  Miller. Great. Saturday’s hints had obviously fallen on deaf ears. “Thanks, Rosemary, that was probably my brother Miller. He must have forgotten that I’d be on the school run. Anyway, I’ll run, thanks again.”

  “Miller, that’s a funny name. Is that his first name?”

  “Yes, my mum was reading Death of a Salesman when she was pregnant. I’ll see you soon – bye now.”

  Kate is almost running by the time she gets to her own house, and she goes straight to the coffee machine once she’s inside. Maybe it’s time to find a job.

  “Brilliant. That’s just brilliant.”

  Kate puts her phone down on the table, a little more forcibly than is good for the glass screen or the listening ears. Too late, she sees the boys exchange a look.

  “What’s wrong?” asks Seth – always the leader of this small band of brothers and poser of tricky inquiries.

  Kate turns to look at two small faces: both dark-haired replicas of their dad, with soft, open brown eyes and a scattering of freckles barely discernible to anyone but her. Seth is taller than Jamie, but there the physical differences end. Sometimes it feels as though she’s living in a house with three different-sized clones of one person.

  “Nothing, sweetheart, just a message from Dad to say that he’ll be late home. Again.”

  Both sets of eyes narrow simultaneously beneath anxious frowns.

  “It’s fine!” she says. “Sure we’ll have tea together the three of us, and then it’s bedtime already – we can do an extra chapter of your book tonight.”

  Shit, she really needs to watch her words. And really, it’s not Sam’s fault he’s working late. Long hours go with the territory – they’d known that when he took the job. It just feels like it’s all shifting in opposite directions – she has less to get her out of the house than ever before, meanwhile Sam is coming home later and later. Of course that’s easy for him – the pressure is off. No more school drop-off in the morning, no more debating who should pick up when someone is sick. But maybe Sam’s enjoying it a little too much. Or maybe she’s enjoying it a little too little.

  Sam, as usual, is clueless.

  It had flared up again on Friday night, when he called to say he was going for drinks with a client.

  “But I have dinner ready – I told the boys we were all eating together tonight – why didn’t you tell me?” Kate had said.

  “I didn’t know about it till just now. Sorry – it’s a big client, I can’t say no. Sure keep dinner for me – I’ll have it when I get home. It won’t go to waste – you know me after a few beers.”

  “That’s not really the point. I’ve been here with the kids all afternoon and I’m wrecked – I was looking forward to you coming home and helping out. Now
I have to do bedtime on my own again. Believe me, it is not about dinner.”

  “Kate, you know I’d come home if I could, but with this new client I have to be able to put in the social hours as well as the work hours. And it all pays off – you know it does. You didn’t mind using last year’s bonus for the ski trip – you can’t have it every way, you know!”

  It took everything in her power not to throw the phone across the room at that.

  “It was your ski trip too – don’t try to put this on me. What is this, 1952?”

  But she knew, even as she hung up the call, that he didn’t get it at all. The same argument had been bubbling just below the surface for months, bursting through occasionally, and never fully resolved.

  And now Sam is working late again. Just brilliant.

  Chapter 15

  Kate – Wednesday, June 29th

  The ladder wobbles when Kate rests her foot on the first metal rung. She puts more force on it. It doesn’t inspire confidence, but Sam was up and down to the attic over and over at the weekend and it held, so it’s probably fine. Probably. Taking a deep breath, she starts to climb, then hoists herself up into the dark hole in the ceiling. Must and dust invade her nose immediately. She coughs and tries not to breathe too deeply as she crawls in a little further, feeling around for the light. Sam had said it was on a beam just to the right of the opening. There it is. She blinks as light fills the attic. Now where would he have put the suitcases? Her eyes travel the breadth of the space, trying to make out objects in dark corners. Baby furniture they should have passed on long ago, Christmas decorations, winter clothes – and suitcases. She crawls towards the biggest one and lugs it back over to the opening, then awkwardly down the ladder. They could probably do with the smaller case too, but maybe Sam can get it later – one trip up the shaky ladder is enough for now.

  Back in her bedroom, something feels different – everything has gone quiet. The boys had been running around the back garden, yelling and laughing, before she went up into the attic. What are they up to now? She walks to the window and looks out, her eyes going immediately to the pond. But there’s nobody there. They must have gone back into the house. She heads downstairs, calling their names.

  “We’re in the kitchen, Mum, making tea for Miller!” comes Seth’s voice.

  In the kitchen, her brother is sitting at the table, staring into space. Despite the June sun, a beanie covers his unkempt hair and his washed-out grey T-shirt does nothing to hide the thinness of his frame. His bony fingers are cupped around a mug of something.

  “Miller. I didn’t know you were calling today? And boys, you can’t make tea – please tell me you didn’t touch the kettle?”

  “No, we didn’t go near the kettle, Mum. We put the teabag in the cup and filled it with water from the tap. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

  Kate looks at the brownish water in Miller’s cup and wonders if he’s tasted it. Or if he’d notice either way.

  “Okay, well done for not touching the kettle – but who answered the door? That’s another thing you know well you’re not to do.”

  “But we looked out the sitting-room window and saw it was Uncle Miller, so it was safe. Wasn’t it, Mum?”

  In theory, she thinks, but out loud she just tells the boys to go back out and play, then sits down opposite her brother.

  “Is everything all right?” she asks.

  He turns his gaze to her. “Yes, all fine.”

  “We’re really busy here getting ready for the Galway trip – I didn’t realise you were calling. You should have phoned.” Seeing confusion and a hint of hurt cross his face, she starts to feel guilty. “I just mean we might not have been here – it’s a good idea to phone before you come over.”

  “It’s not far. I don’t mind if you’re not here sometimes. It’s much better than when you lived in Booterstown.”

  Kate sighs and gets up to boil the kettle. “I’ll make you a proper cup of tea, but I have to pack then, okay?”

  No reply, but a hint of a nod.

  “So, how’s your flatmate doing – Brax, is that his name?” What kind of name is Brax anyway? Millennials and their hipster names.

  “He’s fine, I guess. I don’t really see him. He doesn’t like me.”

  “I’m sure he does like you – he’s probably just busy with his job. What does he do again?”

  “He’s a bike courier. I think he gets annoyed that I’m in the house all day. That’s why it’s good to come here.”

  Kate squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “Well, you pay the rent, you’re entitled to be there, so don’t mind him. Though would it be a good time to try looking for work again? That would get you out of the house.”

  “I have tried. Nobody will hire me. And anyway I’m still working on my novel.”

  Oh Jesus, the famous novel. Kate fills two cups with boiling water. The novel that’s been underway for ten years now, while their mother and Social Welfare pay his rent between them.

  She is putting a cup of tea down in front of him as a key turns in the front door.

  Sam is home on time for once.

  “Hey – oh hi, Miller,” he says, dropping his keys on the counter. “I didn’t know you were calling in?”

  “He’s just dropped in to say bye to me and the boys before we head tomorrow, because he won’t see us for the rest of the summer,” Kate says, shooting Sam a look.

  “Well, I could still call over to see Sam, I guess,” Miller says, looking at his brother-in-law expectantly.

  “Ah – I’ll be working a lot while they’re away – I won’t be here much at all, buddy.”

  “I could come at the weekends?”

  “I’ll be going down to Galway a good bit at the weekends, and I have some business trips too. At the weekend.”

  Kate raises her eyebrows at Sam and he gives a tiny shrug. In fairness, Miller is the last person to wonder why business trips would take place on the weekend.

  “Okay,” Miller says, standing up and draining his tea. “I’ll be around in the morning so.”

  “Oh, Miller, come on – you heard what I said!” Kate says, louder than she plans.

  Miller turns to look at her, his grey eyes filled with all too familiar confusion.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I just mean we’re going early in the morning so there’s no point in calling around. And, look, after the summer when we’re back, we can talk about a regular time for visits. You can’t keep just showing up unannounced.”

  Miller stares at her, then walks out without a word, pulling the front door softly behind him. A slammed door would have helped with the inevitable guilt. Damn him anyway.

  “Kate, that was a bit much, wasn’t it? I don’t love when he calls around either, but there’s probably a better way to tell him, right?”

  “Sam, you don’t get it. You really don’t.”

  “What? What do I not get?”

  “Unless you grew up in my house, you can’t get it.”

  “But that all happened such a long time ago – maybe it’s time to get past it?”

  She shakes her head. “No. Not possible. He never got past it, so the rest of us can’t either. Look, he’s fine, but I don’t want him around all the time, and I don’t like him around the boys when I’m not there. You know they let him in without asking me?”

  “Well, he’s their uncle – they don’t know any better. Do you want me to talk to them?”

  She shakes her head again and scrapes her hair back into a tiny ponytail, tying it with a bobbin.

  “I’ll do it – on the way down to Galway tomorrow. Can you keep an eye on them – I’m going for a run.”

  As her feet hit the pavement and the breeze hits her hair, it’s working its magic already – me-time that lasts longer than the usual flick through Facebook while the boys watch TV. She glances at her neighbours’ houses as she runs past. There’s a car next door now – they’re not away after all. And Rosemary is in her driveway, watering plan
ts – she waves at Kate as she runs by. Someone drives past her – a woman in a silver car, with a child in the back. The car turns into Number 34 – it must be Georgia and her daughter. Kate runs on, down past the green, out to the main road, and down towards Dún Laoghaire. Irritations slip away with each footfall as the evening sun warms her face. Miller and Sam and home and school – it’s all gone – there’s only air and sky and ground and sea. And everything is good again.

  On her way back into Willow Valley forty minutes later, she slows to a walk. The woman in Number 34 is carrying a bag in from the car and stops when she sees her. Reluctantly, Kate takes out her ear-buds.

  “Hi – you must be the new person in Number 26? I saw you coming out of your house for your run. I’m Georgia.”

  “Yes, we just moved the weekend before last. I’m Kate, nice to meet you.”

  “So, how are you and your family settling in – is it two little boys you have?” Georgia asks, looking Kate up and down.

  “Yes – Seth and Jamie. I think my husband met your husband the day we moved in.” Kate waits to see what kind of reaction this brings, but Georgia doesn’t seem fazed.