The Visitors(69)

‘Have you seen anyone skulking around here at all?’ She swallowed. ‘I thought I saw Emily just now, at the front window.’

David frowned. ‘Emily doesn’t work here any more. Josh told me to revoke her staff parking rights.’

Holly shook her head in frustration. Why did he always have to take everything so damn literally?

‘I’m fully aware she doesn’t work here any more, David. That’s my point. She shouldn’t be anywhere around here.’

He reached for his jacket. ‘I ought to tell Mr Kellington she’s been seen trespassing.’

‘No! I don’t want you to do that because I’m not sure it was her; it might have been… Oh, never mind!’

‘I’ll be round later to do some jobs for Mrs Barrett,’ she heard him call after her. ‘Will you be in?’

That was all she needed, David and Cora rattling on all evening. She needed space to get her head straight.

The awful thoughts had started to come back with a vengeance. She could feel them.





Chapter Fifty-Four





David





I lie in bed, turning this way and then that, but every muscle in my body feels stretched to its limit. My neck and shoulders tense and burn, my face and hands are sticky.

The glaring red digits on my clock inform me it is 1.30 a.m.

I wonder if Holly is sleeping soundly, just across the way. She was agitated when she came to speak to me at lunchtime. She even snapped at me a couple of times.

I know she didn’t mean it. It will be the goings-on on the shop floor. I’ve heard all sorts of unsavoury rumours about who is getting up to what.

It feels like I haven’t been in bed that long, but I came up at the normal time, I’m sure of it. My head feels full of fuzz, so I lie still for a few minutes in the hope it might dissipate.

It doesn’t.

I get out of bed and crack the window open slightly, stand there a moment to enjoy the trickle of the cool breeze that filters through.

A cat walks nonchalantly across the grass and the outside sensors activate. It disappears into the hedge, and a few seconds later the lights go off again.

That’s when I see that the Browns are still up.

As their house sits on the bend of the crescent, I can partially see the back of the property if I lean out of the window.

Their lounge is situated at the rear, unlike ours and the lights are still on… at this hour! Although the curtains are pulled to, they’re of poor quality and don’t quite meet in the middle.

With the aid of the binoculars, I see Mr Brown’s feet and his striped-pyjama-clad legs. A light flickers within as the television bathes the room with its flashing images.

Upstairs, the curtains are closed and their bedroom is in darkness.

I’ve seen Mrs Brown drawing the curtains in there at bedtime, but I’ve never seen him. I wonder if they’re sleeping in separate rooms. I ought to try and ascertain this, because if so, when put together with the other information I know about the Browns, it could be a sign that trouble is brewing again.

This time, I know I can do nothing about it. I won’t get involved but I might call the police.

A slipper hangs off Mr Brown’s foot, and as I watch, it falls to the floor, but his leg still doesn’t move. He must have fallen asleep in front of the television again.

It’s been proven that sleep quality is impaired when you’re not properly relaxed in bed, and he does that regularly.

The image of him talking to Holly in Mrs Barrett’s garden flashes into my mind again. What was he speaking to her about? I tried raising it with Holly, but she just batted the subject away.

She’s na?ve, and as I know only too well, he’s the sort of man to take advantage, if there’s any chance he can.

I switch on my lamp and flip the Rolodex until I get to the Browns’ details. I turn on my mobile phone and tap in the landline number, switching off my lamp again before it starts to ring.

When the Neighbourhood Watch scheme was first launched in the area, members of the committee and residents – myself included – wrote down their contact details and a very useful list was circulated.

Holding the phone to my ear with one hand and waiting for the shrill ring to begin at the other end, I pick up the binoculars again with my other hand and watch as Mr Brown’s leg jerks up in shock at the noise. Then he jumps up off the sofa.

His shadow darts across the room, magnified against the unlined curtains.

‘Hello?’ he breathes at the end of the line. ‘Hello?’

I wait a second or two and then end the call. I put down my phone, still watching.

He sits back down on the edge of the sofa this time, the gap in the curtains revealing that his elbows are on his knees and his bowed head is in his hands.

Mr Brown looks to me like a man with considerable problems. Problems he’s not entirely sure how to solve. I wonder if regrets over what happened lie heavy on his shoulders in the early hours, when the world around him is quiet.

I suppose if I’m honest, I like to think of myself as a fixer. I wonder what might happen if I went around there right now and surprised him, caught him totally off guard.

He might make a cup of tea and we could talk, man to man.

A wry smile plays on my lips. That could never happen now.