She jumped when a crow landed on a tree ahead of her. The branch bounced, and the bird flapped, bashing its wings against the leaves. Helen froze, sure there was a different sound coming from somewhere nearby. The bird flew off, and the tree became still. But the wood fell too silent. Had it been this quiet before she heard the crow? There must have been car noises or birdsong, now nothing.
Fear pressed her feet to the ground and she couldn’t move. The sun had been casting a splintered light through the trees, but now went behind a cloud. The copse grew darker. She moved the bag to her chest and hugged its contents. How could she be so stupid, trapping herself in a shadowy woodland like this? It was all in her mind, but still her feet wouldn’t move.
Through the trees she caught a glimpse of a child’s buggy at the top of the next cul-de-sac. The pushchair looked like the one Polly Stephens had for her daughter. She crept forward and spotted the broken gate at number 4. She’d found Dickensweg. She gave a jubilant kick to a pile of discarded cigarette ends and laughed. What would Louisa say to whoever had up-ended a car ashtray in their bit of the copse?
A cold prickle crawled up her back. What if somebody regularly stood there on that spot? A silent smoker watching the cul-de-sac, observing their every move. Knowing who had children, who was out at work all day and who was home alone. The chill tingled through her body. Sascha smoked and the figure she saw on the Howards’ fence during their dinner party had a cigarette. Was Sascha stalking them? Is that why he attacked their garden? He wasn’t safe.
The sun came out again and warmed her. She told herself that she was thinking nonsense.
She checked her watch. She could still fit in a swim if she wanted. And why shouldn’t she want to go swimming? Sascha was fine with her, a gentleman. They hadn’t touched again, not even when they passed the floats between them. Just that once. Palms, fingers, fingertips. He must have seen his effect on her through the thin material of her swimsuit. Was that why he looked away? To stop his own reaction?
She came out of the woods and saw Mel at an upstairs window. She was staring at the top of the road even though there was no sign of life at old Manfred’s house, or at the Bartons’.
Mel disappeared from the window. Helen decided to invite her round for coffee, right now. After her scare in the woods, she would enjoy the company. And it was an excuse to put off the holiday packing, and the swim. Palm to palm. Maybe it was best to leave the swim for another day.
She saw a flash of colour appear at the end of the street. If the sun hadn’t glinted on the paintwork she wouldn’t have seen the open-top sports car, crawling along. It was Chris’s car, strangely quiet. He usually drove at an ear-splitting roar.
Helen mentally postponed the coffee invitation and jogged into the woods out of sight to wait until he’d gone in. Chris pulled up outside his house, climbed out and was about to knock on his door but changed his mind, went back to the car and drove off at full throttle, the engine noise reverberating against the windows of the houses.
Mel came out and looked up the street after the noise, but the sports car had gone. A twig snapped when Helen shifted her weight. Mel walked towards the woods smiling, but froze when she saw Helen. She turned, lunged for her door and closed it behind her. Helen decided it was the wrong time to offer coffee.
17
Sunday, 30 May
“We don’t have to ski in a pack, do we?” Helen said.
“This is the third year I’ve been on holiday with them,” Gary said. He parked near the chairlift where the Howards and Mowars were waiting. “It was always fun before.”
Before what? He must mean before her. Life was fun before her. She stayed in the car while he unclipped his skis from the roof. She willed him to get back in so they could have it out, but he was oblivious to her sit-in protest. By the time she gave up and left the car, he was chatting happily with the neighbours.
“Poor Helen,” Louisa said by way of greeting, “if only I’d known, I could have lent you some of our skis. We’re bound to have an old pair in the attic. And a ski suit.”
Helen smiled tightly. She’d chosen to rebel with her tatty outfit so why did Louisa’s comment still irk?
Louisa, Damian and their three boys were dressed in identical red and black ski suits. Helen was certain their provenance wasn’t the second-hand shop, although she reckoned they’d end up there when Louisa cast them off in favour of next season’s look.
“I hope you don’t have to queue for long,” Louisa said, looking at the snaking line of beginners, waiting outside the kit shop to have their feet clamped into skis. Children were variously rolling in the snow, chucking snowballs, or crying, having lost interest in the giant Pingu the Penguin whose job it was to distract them from the wait.
“I’d love to stay with you but I need to keep an eye on Damian. Now that our boys are such excellent skiers, he insists they go off-piste and you know how dangerous that can be.”
“Of course, stick close to them. I wouldn’t want them falling into a ravine without you,” Helen said.
Louisa, not sure whether to smile or glare, managed both before she swished expertly over to the chairlift.
With Louisa airborne, Helen fought hard to shake off an image of gusts of wind and crashing cable cars. She turned to Mel, the only other member of their party left behind to queue for skis.
“Is it your first time?” she asked. Mel’s ski suit was so tight that there must have been a risk of cutting off the circulation.
Mel shook her head. “Chris thinks it’s better if I hire. I lost both poles last year when the paramedics carried me down on their ski-stretcher.”
Helen wasn’t sure what shocked her more: what Mel had said or that her nervousness had made her unusually talkative.
Helen shivered. It was supposed to be blazing hot on the ski slopes. Never mind broken ankles and dislocated knees, it was blistering sunburn you had to watch out for. So how could she explain the dank duvet of mist that had wrapped itself around the entire resort and was sucking the last ounce of warmth out of her bones? As a PE teacher she loved all sports, but she couldn’t be bothered to spend today freezing off her backside in this clown suit.
“Fancy a Glühwein? There must be a café round here.”
“If we leave the queue now, we might never get to the front,” Mel said.
“How about Bratwurst as well?”
Mel gave a tiny smile and nodded. They followed the sounds of trilling Tyrolean music and found a café above the ski hire shop.
“So, two mulled wines?”
Mel shook her head.
Helen tried to remember whether she’d seen her drinking alcohol at Louisa’s dinner party. She wasn’t sure. “Hot chocolate?”
This time Mel nodded.
Helen gave the order to the waiter and turned to Mel, ready to settle in for a chat. But Mel was staring at the table. Helen pulled off her hat and neck warmer, wondering what hook she could use to drag Mel into a conversation.
There was a blast of cold air as a group of skiers entered.
“Chilly, isn’t it,” she tried.
Mel looked up but said nothing. She was still wearing a white bobble hat. And knitted mittens – if she ever made it onto the slopes they’d get soaked through in seconds.
“How did you end up on a stretcher?”
Mel’s eyes watered. She dragged her hat lower over her ears.
Helen had judged the question would get her attention but hadn’t intended to upset her. “You don’t have to tell me …”
The drinks arrived with towers of whipped cream encased in marshmallows. Mel took off her gloves, reached for the sugar bowl and added four sachets.
“You have a sweet tooth,” Helen laughed.
Mel’s hand was reaching for a fifth but she snatched it away. “Sorry … it’s what I’m used to.” She stirred her chocolate – round and round – like winding a clock. “I got dizzy,” she said and it took a moment for Helen to realize she was talking about the
stretcher incident.
“Did you bang your head? We should wear helmets like the Howard boys.”
“I wasn’t concussed; I just hadn’t eaten.”
Helen waited but nothing more came. She looked at her watch. Acres of time stretched before her. She summoned the waiter and ordered Bratwurst and two mulled wines.
When the drink was set in front of Mel, she didn’t protest as Helen had expected. She added four sachets of sugar. When it had cooled she drank it straight down. Pink circles appeared on her cheeks and she smiled.
Helen ordered another round. When it arrived, she pushed the sugar towards Mel. She was confident she’d warmed her up enough to chat. “What did you do before you moved to Germany?” she asked.
“Not much. Telesales.”
No wonder the woman seemed so low. “How long did you do that for? It must be quite demoralizing when people hang up on you.”
Mel shrugged and stared into her hot wine.
Helen found the silence unnerving and had to fill it. “I taught PE at a school in Shrewsbury. I have a house there. I got it before the house prices took off …”
Mel closed her eyes.
“Mel?”
Maybe the second wine hadn’t been a good idea; Mel had dozed off. Helen looked at her watch again.
***
“You’ve been in here all day drinking Glühwein, haven’t you?” Gary said, grinning, when he and the others piled in.
Helen, who’d played her way through every game on her mobile phone while Mel slept, was thrilled to have company and forgot they’d parted in a sulk. She laughed. “We had hot chocolate as well.”
Mel woke up and giggled.
“You’re both very flushed,” Gary said.
“We’re not the only ones.” The earlier mist had burnt off so that the face of every skier who came into the café glowed red from the sun’s glare.
“Pot and kettle,” Mel said and burst out laughing.
Chris placed his hands on her shoulders. “I think my wife had better come on the ski lift with me from now on. That way she won’t get led astray.”
For a moment Helen thought he was angry but he smiled and she decided it was the sunburn. Chris’s face was red-raw and would be on fire tomorrow. Helen glanced at the others. Louisa had sprouted a few more freckles but she’d obviously used a top quality sunscreen to protect her skin and applied the same to the boys. Mother and sons sported a gentle tan. Naturally swarthy, Damian had darkened by a good couple of tones and when he took off his sunglasses had white eye sockets beneath. Helen sniggered and to her surprise found that Louisa was laughing too.
“You’re a panda, darling,” she said.
They ordered beer and chips, and Louisa said she’d like a glass of water.
Gary sat down next to Helen, wrapping his arm around her, and the Howards found space further up the table. In her continued spirit of reconciliation, Helen leaned into Gary’s arm and asked him how the skiing had gone.
“Superb. We raced around the lower pistes. Young Toby is a great skier. Anyone would think he’d been born in skis.”
“But Louisa’s glad he wasn’t,” Chris said and everyone laughed, including Louisa.
The foaming beers and the chips arrived and were seized upon by the entire party, except Louisa who sipped her water. For the first time since she’d met her Dickensweg neighbours, Helen felt warm and part of the happy chatter.
“Lutscher für die jungen Männer,” the waiter said, presenting the three boys with lollies as he brought the bill.
“I see they let anyone into Austria these days.”
Helen thought it was the waiter making a joke. But a chill went through the others and they stopped talking to stare at the person who’d spoken. Helen looked up into the sneering face of Sascha Jakobsen. Her happy haze of Glühwein and beer evaporated and she froze too.
Louisa found her voice first. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Visiting my neighbours,” he said.
“We’re not your neighbours. If you’ve followed us, we’ll have you arrested for stalking,” Louisa said.
“The Austrians are my neighbours. And I had no need to follow you. I knew you were here.”
“How the hell …?” Damian shouted, his eyes wide with alarm. He stopped when he saw his wife staring at Helen.
Louisa’s ice-cold, accusing eyes were not the only ones fixed on her. Chris and Gary were looking and even Murdo was gazing in her direction.
“It wasn’t me,” she said, all feelings of conviviality and inclusion swept aside.
“Whose side are you on?” Louisa said.
“I didn’t discuss this holiday with anyone. Gary, say something,” she pleaded.
“I’m sure Helen didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said.
“You could have said if you didn’t want to come. There is no need to ruin it for the rest of us,” Louisa said.
“I expected better of you,” Chris said, tutting at Helen.
“It wasn’t Helen.” The sound of Sascha’s voice silenced everyone. “She didn’t tell me.”
“Who told you?” Louisa said. “I demand to know.”
Sascha shook his head. But an involuntary glance in Mel’s direction did his talking for him.
“Mel?” Louisa said. “This man is a stalker.” She waved her arm towards Sascha. “Why on earth would you tell him we were coming here?”
“I wasn’t …” Mel flushed a darker red than any of the sun-scorched skiers. “He spoke to me in our street, but I didn’t …” Beads of sweat formed on her brow.
“You could have walked away. Or were you too slow?”
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed and dashed to the ladies’ toilets.
Sascha clapped his hands. “What a caring community you have. The first sign of trouble you chase off the weakest member like a pack of dogs.”
“Leave us,” Louisa hissed.
Sascha stared at her. He cocked his head to the side as if to appraise her but found her wanting. He turned his attention to Damian, holding his gaze until Damian looked away. “I can wait,” he said and strode out of the restaurant.
“We’ll have to move to another resort,” Louisa said.
“It’s May. This is the only ski centre high enough for snow,” Chris said. “Why should we go? If we split up he can’t follow us all.”
“It’s only me he wants to stalk,” Louisa said.
“You’re surely not going to let a runt like that get to you,” Chris said.
Louisa seemed to take in his words and she sipped her water, calming down. The men returned to the dregs of their beers, and the boys sucked the last of the candy off their lolly sticks. Helen said she’d go and check on Mel.
“Good idea, Helen,” Chris said. “Get the snitch before her sobbing floods the place.” His booming laughter followed her as she crossed the room.
***
In the toilets, Mel’s body was shaking with the after-sobs of someone who had been crying heavily.
“No one blames you,” Helen said without conviction because she knew everyone did. Even the woman’s husband had called her a snitch.
“I can’t get anything right,” Mel cried, rubbing her nose with a sodden lump of toilet paper.
Helen softened her voice. “That man duped me, too. I drove him into our street. Louisa nearly laid an egg when she saw him near her garden.”
Through her sobs, Mel coughed out a laugh.
“She could have hatched it and taught it to play the cello,” Helen said.
Mel, chuckling more than she was crying, blew her nose. Soon they were both laughing and Helen had tears in her eyes. She fetched more loo paper and gave some to Mel who said she was ready to go in again.
***
When Helen led her back to the others, the mood was sombre. Only Chris, face the colour of ripened beetroot, seemed cheerful. He was explaining movie cameras in a loud voice – ostensibly to Toby but probably for the benefit of the waiters in the by
now quiet restaurant. Toby seemed vaguely interested but at the same time distracted by his mother who was staring a hole into the cork tablemat in front of her. Damian was halfway through another beer and seemed determined to greet the bottom of the Stein sometime soon.
Gary suggested they order more food.
“And more anaesthetic,” Damian said and lifted his Stein.
Helen found menus on another table and shared them out. Toby dropped any pretence of listening to Chris and seized a menu. Leo tried to prise his older brother’s fingers off the laminated pages so that they could share.
Damian looked up. “You boys are having mini pizzas. And the adults can have the Tageskarte. It will save time.”
“And money,” Chris smirked.
“But the main dish is goulash. It’s bound to be white rice,” Louisa said.
“We can order extra chips,” Gary suggested.
“We just had chips,” she snapped. Sascha’s visit had clearly fixed her mood.
The atmosphere relaxed when the pea soup starter arrived, but just when Helen thought the day could be salvaged, she glanced out of the window and spotted Sascha returning. She excused herself, went downstairs and met him outside.
“Why did you come here?” she asked, cold without her coat and hugging herself. “What do you want from us?”
“I’m waiting for justice.” His expression was serious and he moved towards the entrance.
She called after him, “Please don’t go in and ruin our meal.”
His eyes narrowed. “You told me once not to tell you what to think but now you tell me what to do.” He put his hand on the door. There was still time to stop him if she could work out how.
“How did you make Mel tell you we would be here?”
“The Howards are cruel as dogs.” He pushed the door. Helen grabbed it. He didn’t resist her, and she found herself touching his hand. Palm to palm. She let go, expecting him to go in but he didn’t move and asked her: “Why do you care?”
The Perfect Neighbours Page 8