Our House(65)

He’s fairly certain he’s thrown off his pursuer – if there ever was one.

Soon, the chill from Lake Geneva meets his newly cropped head and the fact that he is even registering the pain of a late afternoon in sub-zero winter feels perversely like progress.





34


‘Fi’s Story’ > 01:59:07

Did no one else suspect Bram of anything criminal back then, even if I did not? That’s right, my mother helped us with childcare and was probably in and out of Trinity Avenue more than anyone else, but certainly not her, no. I would go so far as to say that not only was she oblivious to any illegalities but she also privately wished for a reunion between us. Not that she had any desire to see her daughter humiliated, of course, it was just that she regarded his second infidelity as I had regarded the first: not excusable, but maybe, just possibly, pardonable.

‘It seems to me he’s going out of his way to make things nice for you,’ she said. ‘The lilies he left for you were beautiful.’

This was undeniable. After the Kent weekend, he’d left a huge and stunning bouquet for me, even using my favourite vase. The last time he’d bought me flowers, well, I couldn’t remember; before the betrayal, certainly. He’d been too exposed afterwards, risked being accused of empty symbolism.

(You’re probably thinking, God, the poor man can’t win, but I think we already know that he found a way.)

‘You’re obviously on his mind,’ Mum added. He still loves you, was the subtext.

I don’t say any of this in order to criticize her. No one could be more grateful to a parent than I am to her. It’s more to try to show you that we were all susceptible to Bram’s charms one way or another. (Alison always said this included Polly, whom she suspected disliked him because she feared an attraction.)

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying he was psychopathically charismatic or anything like that. He didn’t set out to use his powers for evil.

More likely, his powers were no match for the evil he chanced upon.

*

I’m bracing myself now, because I know that more than any other scene I’ve described this next one will make you question my intelligence. I mean come on, you’ll think, how could you possibly not have suspected?

It was a few days after we’d come back from Kent, the first week of November, when in the evening, just before Harry’s bath time, the doorbell rang.

A fortysomething couple stood on the doorstep, well-mannered and hopeful. ‘Sorry to interrupt your evening,’ the woman began. ‘This is a bit cheeky, but . . .’ And I thought at once it might be a scam, some apparently respectable pair with a broken-down car needing ￡20 for a taxi. ‘. . . We missed the open house and happened to be passing and wondered if we could have a quick look around now? We’ve been looking in this area for months.’

‘Open house?’ I said.

‘Yes.’ They exchanged looks. ‘This is the one for sale, isn’t it? On the market with Challoner’s?’

Ah, not a scam, an honest mistake. People like us, after all. ‘No, you must mean number ninety-five,’ I told them. ‘I don’t know which estate agent they’re using.’

As the couple retreated, apologetic, I felt sheepish for having jumped to conclusions. Until the recent spate of crimes on the street, I’d prided myself on giving strangers the benefit of the doubt.

Minutes later, Harry was in the bath and Leo was doing his reading homework while balancing on the banister and there was the usual chaos and clamour, so when the bell went again I didn’t bother going back down.

Later, when I remembered the episode to Merle, she told me, ‘Don’t be silly, there are a thousand possible outcomes to every one of our actions. Say you left Harry in the bath and got involved in a conversation on the doorstep, what if he’d hit his head and slipped under the water? Leo might not have noticed, he might have followed you downstairs or wandered back into his bedroom. That would have been far, far worse.’

‘You’re right,’ I said.

And, to be fair, I did look at Challoner’s website a day or two later and there was no listing for Trinity Avenue. On Rightmove, the Reeces’ place was still there, now with an ‘Under Offer’ banner across the photo.

The only other listing for Trinity Avenue was one of the flats in the block on the corner with Wyndham Gardens. I remember wondering if it was the same one that had been ransacked a few weeks earlier and what would become of the tenants if they were to be given notice. A burglary and then an eviction in the space of a few months.

I reminded myself that I was one of the lucky ones.

#VictimFi

@LuluReading I’m sorry, but this #VictimFi *is* a bit of a f*ckwit. The friend also mentioned estate agent on wknd away.

@val_shilling @LuluReading That’s so unfair, the neighbour was selling! #easymistaketomake

@IsabelRickey101 @val_shilling @LuluReading I agree. She’s really brave to admit all this now.





Bram, Word document

I could delay no longer in breaking the news to Fi about the car.

‘Our insurance claim has been turned down,’ I told her, at our next Friday handover.

‘What?’ She flushed with shock. ‘Why?’

‘They weren’t a hundred per cent clear about it, you know what they’re like, but it seems to be to do with the keys. Because we couldn’t say exactly where they were, there’s a case that we were negligent.’