The Visitors(64)

I’m never really sure what it is I have or haven’t done.

And that’s what it’s always felt like, being me.

But today, when I’m finished at Mrs Barrett’s and I’ve said goodbye to Holly, I walk back round to the house and there’s a light feeling in my heart.

Something’s not right with Holly, I know that, like I knew it with Della. But this time, I feel sure it’s nothing to do with me.

After the landline rang at the house, she was jumpy, nervous, and she wouldn’t take the call. I couldn’t hear what she was saying in the living room, but I know that tone. It’s the same tone Mother has used all her life when she’s talking about me, first to my father, now to Brian.

It’s a tone that tries to conceal alarm and concern. It’s a tone that can cover up lies very well, like a thick layer of butter might conceal mouldy bread.

I hesitate and look down towards number 11.

There’s nobody on the street just now and no sign of life from the Browns’, but I still rush straight back in through our front gate and down the short path.

Only then do I relax a little; linger down the side of my own house, press my back against the cool, rough brickwork.

There are only opaque windows overlooking me here, so I have plenty of time to stand and breathe and enjoy the light feeling that for once feels stronger than the panic.

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath of sharp, cool air. I hold it there a few seconds before releasing it again. I do it a few times more.

I look directly up at the side of Mrs Barrett’s house, to the top floor.

Behind that wall is Holly’s bedroom. It’s where she sleeps at night. Directly opposite it, above where I’m standing now, is my bedroom.

At night-time, we are as close to each other as we can be. Just two slender walls between us.

There’s a warm feeling in my chest.

Holly didn’t make fun of me when I asked if she’d like to go to the cinema. She didn’t disappear when I spoke a bit about my job. She seemed genuinely interested.

Holly is different in every way.

If she’s in some kind of trouble, then perhaps I can be of assistance.

That’s how it started with Della, too. I just wanted to help, that’s all it was, and she told me she wanted me to be involved. She told me she wanted my help.

Otherwise I’d never have done something like that.

I haven’t even looked at Della’s photographs for a while. That’s how good I feel.

I’m not going to get carried away this time, but I’m honestly beginning to think that Holly moving here was meant to be.

She’s the first person I’ve met who I really do think I can trust.





Chapter Fifty-One





David





Holly decides that she’d like to see the film the following Sunday.

I text her the cinema times and then sit motionless in my bedroom, staring at the phone on my desk.

After ten long minutes of non-communication, I feel utterly convinced she has changed her mind, but then a pinging noise sounds and her name pops up on the screen.

Next Sunday at 2 sounds great. Look forward to it! H

I’ve had texts before, obviously, but just updates from the phone company I’m with or nuisance spam about prize draws. I’ve never had a text from a woman… a friend.

It feels special. Different.

I want to keep it all to myself, but of course, when I take my dirty pots downstairs, Mother knows instantly that something is up. She looks at me through narrowed eyes when I refuse a slice of her apple and coconut cake.

‘David, I’ve been making your favourite cake for nigh on thirty years now, and in all that time I’ve never known you turn down a slice.’

‘I… I’m just not that hungry, Mother,’ I say.

‘I’ve told you, love. A bit of graft on a building site would sort him out in no time.’ Brian appears in the kitchen doorway. ‘Sat on your arse day in, day out. That’s your problem, Dave.’

‘My name is David.’

‘Touchy today, aren’t we? Got a spot of that well-known ailment, single man’s sexual frustration?’

My hand tightens on the handle of the mug I’m holding.

‘Brian, please.’ My mother closes her eyes with a pained expression.

‘It’s not healthy. He needs some proper graft and some fresh air in his—’

‘I’ve already got a job, and it’s one you need a brain to do.’

Two red spots appear on Brian’s cheeks. He steps forward, clenching his fists.

‘What are you trying to say, you little—’

‘Just stop it, you two!’ Mother cries out.

‘I’m not going to stand here and listen to that twat talk about my job like that,’ Brian says with quiet menace. ‘He’s no idea of the skill involved in bricklaying.’

We glare at each other wordlessly.

I am sick of Brian being in my space and on my back the entire time. Holly’s face flashes into my mind – the way she looks at me, listens with interest to what I have to say – and instead of walking away from the situation, I say something.

‘It’s not your job any more, though, is it?’ I hear my voice as though I am an onlooker. It is calm. ‘You had to retire due to ill health… or something along those lines.’