Blink(10)

I stood there for a moment, taking a few breaths of fresh air and surveying the street. Directly opposite stood a neat row of houses, identical to our own.

It occurred to me that from any one of those windows, someone could be watching me right now. Enjoying the sight of me sweeping up the dead insects with satisfaction, congratulating themselves on a job well done.

Coming up with a reason why that might be the case was a little trickier. As far as I was aware, nobody here knew us. Perhaps someone nearby just didn’t like newcomers – but if that was true, they’d gone to pretty extreme and pricey lengths to show it.

A slight breeze tweaked the crisp, gossamer wings of a couple of the wasps piled on the plastic dustpan and I jumped back, terrified for a second that they weren’t quite dead.

Mr Etheridge had bagged up the flowers and tied the top of the bin bag in a knot. I shuddered as I took it outside and dumped it directly into the wheelie bin in the back yard.

‘All done,’ I said to Evie, loosening the damp strands of hair that tears had pasted to the side of her face. ‘You can come back inside now, poppet.’

‘No!’ She clung tightly onto Mum, burying her head into the top of her shoulder.

‘Now listen to me, sweetheart. Mr Etheridge is one of the top exterminators in the country,’ Mum tried to reassure Evie. ‘All insects and pests are terrified of him. They will never come back in this house now they know he is around.’

Doddery old Mr Etheridge the country’s top exterminator? It would be laughable if Evie wasn’t so distressed. But remarkably, Mum’s claims seemed to actually perk Evie up a little.

‘What’s an exterbinator?’ Evie asked, wide-eyed. ‘Is Mr Ethriz like a ghostbuster for wasps?’

‘That’s exactly what he is,’ Mum nodded. ‘Mark my words, there’ll not be so much as a harmless fly that dares to show its mucky face in this house again.’

Evie would remember such wild promises, but I was grateful to Mum for saying exactly the right things to reassure her for now.

‘Let’s go and sit in the kitchen and have some juice and biscuits,’ Mum soothed. She slid Evie gently from her knee and stood up, clutching her hand.

‘Biscuits before teatime, Nanny?’ Evie threw me a sly look.

‘Absolutely.’ I winked at her. ‘No biscuit rules today, poppet.’

We all walked inside together and I looked up to the sky; the clouds hung low and heavy above us, threatening rain despite the warmth.

I felt grateful the wasp episode was behind us but troubled as to exactly how and why the insects had found their way into our home.

It was a malicious act, it had to be. Wasps don’t make fully formed nests in freshly arranged bouquets. Simple as.

A quick, sharp movement registered at the edge of my vision and my head snapped round towards it.

The upstairs curtains of Sal’s house next door were slightly open and I could just about make out the silhouette of a person stepping back from the window.

Someone was up there, watching us.





9





Three Years Earlier





Toni





The next day, I sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by unpaid bills and Andrew’s benefit statements.

I’d been tapping away at the calculator for the last thirty minutes, multiplying, dividing and everything else in between, trying in vain to get the income and outgoings figures even remotely similar.

I hadn’t told Mum the amount of debt I was in. Partly because I was ashamed, partly because I would never hear the last of it. Andrew and I had relied heavily on credit cards for most of our married life. We’d tried to stop charging things to credit, but you could guarantee, each time we resolved to stop, there was always some emergency that sprang up: a new washing machine needed, a lawnmower repaired, birthday gifts for friends and family . . . the list went on.

Both the MasterCard and the Visa had been maxed out for as far back as I could remember and we could only ever afford to pay the minimum amount each month. We knew we were paying a fortune in interest but that became less important than just surviving until pay day.

When Andrew died, the credit companies wrote to me and said their records showed I was the main cardholder, so despite the fact I’d just lost my husband and our family’s main wage earner, they regretfully had to inform me that I was personally responsible for the entire debt.

Eventually, I pushed the calculator away in frustration and reached instead for the Nottingham Post, turning to the jobs section.

Working again would bring its own problems, I knew that. Sorting out care for Evie was just for starters, but I had to get us out of this mess somehow.

Back in Hemel, and over a period of about ten years, I’d worked my way up to managing a medium-sized independent estate agency in the centre of town.

It didn’t matter where you lived in the UK, you could always be confident of finding property sales and letting agencies. And if you were lucky, one or more might be hiring.

I couldn’t help thinking that the logistical problems of getting a job would surely be outweighed if it allowed me to keep financial ruin at bay. And it would be such a relief to have just a little spare to treat Evie now and again and buy one or two nice bits for the house, to make it more of a cosy home.

A familiar, unpleasant fluttering sensation rose up into my chest, my heart seeming to perform an unpleasant little backflip every few beats.