The Girl Across the Street

by Vikki Patis

  ‘Did you have a nice time?’ I ask once we’re on the A10. Jake lets out a snort.

  ‘With those pretentious wankers?’

  I glance at him in surprise.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean,’ he slurs, leaning forward, seat belt straining against his chest, ‘that they’re all a bunch of cunts. You saw them, with their flash cars and fat bellies and tall tales.’ He snorts again, falls back heavily against the seat. ‘And all the photos of their kids! Hundreds of them. The only thing they have that I don’t.’ Bitterness has crept into his voice, and I feel a knot tighten in my stomach.

  ‘Not for long,’ I say, forcing a smile into my voice. I feel Jake’s gaze on me, but I keep my eyes on the road, indicating on to the slip road.

  ‘Too bloody right,’ he huffs, turning to stare out of the window.

  When we get home, Jake slinks straight off to bed, too drunk to care what I do. I make a show of pottering about in the bathroom, and when I poke my head around the bedroom door, he is already snoring, shirt still on, half the buttons undone. I quietly close the door and tiptoe downstairs.

  Alone at last. I pour myself a glass of wine and sip it, enjoying the smoothness. How I hate Judith, with her snobbery and her fawning over Jake like he’s Jesus fucking Christ. I shake my head as I open the back door and light a cigarette.

  My phone vibrates in my back pocket. Setting the glass of wine on the coffee table, I pull it out and open the new message.

  How was the monster-in-law? Beth has written. I smirk.

  As unbearable as ever, I text back. I have a sudden urge to invite Beth over right now, to sit and gossip about Judith over a glass of wine. But then I remember Jake coming home to find her here the other evening. The tightening of his mouth. And Beth’s wide eyes. Was it truly fear I saw there? But why?

  What did she do this time? Beth replies, and I find myself telling her everything, about the cakes and the gift, the hurtful remarks Jake came out with.

  Should’ve punched him in the mouth! Beth texts, and I almost laugh. If only, I think, and down my wine.

  Sixteen

  Isla

  Two weeks pass quietly. This happens sometimes, especially when Jake is travelling a lot for work or staying late to work on campaigns. I can barely keep up with his schedule. But as long as the house is clean and dinner is ready, and I am calm and pliable, time ticks by without incident.

  On Wednesday morning, I’m unloading the washing machine when the doorbell rings. Pushing my hair out of my face, I pad to the front door and pull it open.

  ‘Beth?’ I’m taken aback. I haven’t seen her for a few days, but I’ve come to look forward to her daily text messages. I run a hand over my frizzy hair, glance down at my tatty T-shirt and comfortable dark purple leggings. Today is my cleaning day; I must stink of bleach and sweat. ‘Am I meant to be expecting you?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ she replies. I glance down and see a suitcase at her feet, then look up at her questioningly. To my horror, her eyes fill, and tears begin to spill over.

  ‘I’ve been chucked out,’ she sobs. I glance around, notice one of the neighbours walking their dog across the road.

  ‘Come in,’ I say, reaching out for the suitcase and heaving it into the house. It’s surprisingly heavy for its compact size.

  Beth steps through the door, shutting it behind her. I drop the suitcase in the hallway and straighten to stare into her eyes, searching for the explanation she clearly doesn’t want to give.

  At last she sighs. ‘Kyle, my boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – wasn’t paying the bloody rent. For months! I’ve been giving him money every time I get paid. He doesn’t have anything else to do, so I thought…’ She trails off, tears sliding down her cheeks. ‘He was supposed to take care of everything in the house – the cleaning, the shopping, paying the bills. Turns out he couldn’t even do any of those poxy jobs.’ She starts to cry again.

  ‘Isn’t it a council flat?’ I ask. ‘Can’t they rehouse you?’

  ‘Not any more. It was bought up by some rich prick a while back. He put the rent up too.’ Beth sniffs, wipes her face with the back of her hand.

  ‘But surely he can’t just throw you out? Surely you have rights?’ I am outraged, but Beth shakes her head sadly.

  ‘People like me don’t have rights,’ she says, her voice tight and angry.

  I can’t find the words to respond. How do I comfort her, this woman who has turned up on my doorstep with nothing but a suitcase? ‘Come on,’ I say, and wrap an arm around her thin shoulders. I lead her into the living room and push her gently on to the sofa.

  ‘Tea?’ I ask, and at Beth’s nod, I go back into the kitchen. While the kettle is boiling, I finish pulling the damp washing out of the machine, placing the full basket at the foot of the stairs. I make the tea and take it into the living room.

  ‘Isla,’ Beth says, still sniffling. ‘Can I stay here? Just for a little while?’

  The request is made so lightly, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to take a friend in from the street and share the comfort of your home. But things in this house aren’t normal.

  And yet how can I refuse? Beth’s face is red and blotchy from crying. Her eyes are wide and innocent, trusting. How can I turn this woman out? Where else can she go?

  ‘Of course,’ I say, taking a sip of tea to hide the worry in my face. I’ve never had anyone stay here before. For a moment, I allow myself to dream of warm evenings spent in the back garden, glasses of wine in our hands, laughter spilling out into the air. Secrets and dreams whispered between us, our matching toenails pushed into the grass beneath our feet.

  But first, I have to convince Jake.

  Tears spill down Beth’s face again. ‘Thank you,’ she whispers. I give her a small smile. My stomach is in knots, but I try to push the anxiety away. ‘It won’t be for long. Just until… until I can get back on my feet.’

  ‘Of course,’ I repeat. ‘As long as you need.’

  Our eyes meet, and I feel dread settle over my shoulders.

  ‘Can I use the bathroom?’ Beth asks sheepishly, getting to her feet.

  I stand too, straightening my T-shirt. I need to get changed. ‘Sure. I can show you to your room too, while we’re up there.’

  In the hall, Beth picks up her suitcase and I grab the basket of washing, hefting it on to my hip.

  ‘Follow me,’ I say.

  Beth stares at the photographs framing the wall as she trails behind me up the stairs. There I am in a long white dress, seated on a white bench, Victorian style, the backdrop a glittering lake, lush green grass, a thick copse of trees. My long copper hair is curled into ringlets, my make-up carefully applied. Everything had to be perfect.

  ‘You look like a princess,’ Beth says, turning to gaze at me. ‘But you’re not wearing your glasses.’ She nods at the photo. ‘Do you wear contacts?’

  I shake my head. ‘Only for that one day. I can’t stand them.’ I give a little shudder.

  In the next photo, Jake is standing next to me, looking smart and handsome in an expensive suit. His sandy hair is artfully styled; his shoes glinting in the sunlight. His head is thrown back in laughter, his hands in his trouser pockets. He looks relaxed. I’m staring up at his face, the left side of my own in shadow. I hold a bouquet in my hands, clasped demurely in front of me.

  I hated that bouquet. It was full of flowers I’m allergic to, something Judith didn’t seem to care about when she chose them. I had to take three antihistamines before the ceremony.

  ‘Beth?’ I say, and she jumps. I peer down at her from the top of the stairs. ‘You coming?’ I want to get away from these photos, the memories of a day I hated.

  Beth fumbles with her suitcase and trudges up towards me.

  ‘The bathroom is just here,’ I say, indicating an open doorway to my left. ‘And your room is here.’ I push open a door at the end of the hallway, revealing the spare bedroom in which nobody has ever slept. The double bed is neatly m
ade, covered in a white duvet cover with pastel flowers springing up from the bottom. The two bedside tables are painted white, but they’re artfully distressed. Shabby chic, apparently. I’m glad I managed to clean in here before Beth arrived.

  ‘You can put your clothes in there,’ I say, nodding to the wardrobe behind us. ‘There’s a lock on your door,’ I add, and as Beth turns to look at me, one eyebrow raised, I feel my cheeks redden. ‘Just in case, you know. For privacy.’ I blow out a breath, then lift the washing basket. ‘I’ll let you get settled. I’ll just be across the landing.’

  I turn on my heel and head for the room opposite, lifting out the damp washing and hanging it up. I hear Beth go into the bathroom, the door closing softly behind her. What am I going to do? I pause for a moment, close my eyes. Jake will not like this. I hear the toilet flush, then the tap turns on. How am I going to handle it?

  ‘We have an en suite,’ I say when Beth emerges. ‘So you don’t have to worry about us barging in on you.’ I try to smile brightly. ‘You can go downstairs if you want. Make yourself at home. Are you hungry? I’ve just got to finish hanging the washing up, then I’ll be down. I can make us some sandwiches?’

  ‘I’ll help,’ Beth says, following me. I wave a hand at her.

  ‘Oh no, you don’t have to. You’re my guest.’ I take socks from the bottom of the second clothes horse, pairing them as I go.

  ‘I want to,’ Beth insists, reaching down and pulling a towel out of the basket. She hangs it over the upper rung of the empty clothes horse, then looks at me. ‘It’s so nice of you to let me stay. Thank you, Isla.’

  I catch her eye and smile again, more sincerely this time. Poor Beth. What an awful situation she’s found herself in. But is this house any better for her? Is it safe?

  We work in comfortable silence, something Jake and I haven’t shared in years. If we ever did. Every pause feels full with Jake, crackling with tension. I chew my lower lip, trying to think of the best way to bring it up when he gets home. Surely he won’t lose his temper in front of Beth? Perhaps she will be my saviour, my shield.

  I glance at her hanging up clothes next to me, and she looks up, meeting my gaze. She seems so young, but her eyes are full of determination, of strength. It fills me with a confidence I haven’t felt in years.

  Seventeen

  Beth

  Jake is less than pleased with the news of Beth’s arrival. When he gets home that evening, Isla ambushes him in the hall, speaking in hushed tones.

  ‘She’s got nowhere else to go,’ Beth hears her say. Jake snorts in response.

  ‘Why is that our problem?’ he says, not bothering to keep his voice down. Beth stares down at her hands, lying still in her lap. This is it.

  ‘It won’t be for long,’ Isla says. Beth looks up to see her step close to Jake, whisper in his ear. Jake’s eyes meet Beth’s over the top of Isla’s head, and Beth shivers. She wonders what Isla is telling him, what excuse she’s dreamed up to get him to agree. She holds Jake’s gaze, silently daring him to refuse. Because no matter what lie Isla is telling him right now, he knows why Beth is really here.

  ‘Hello, lodger,’ Jake says cheerily, finally stepping into the living room. Isla follows him, twisting her hands nervously. ‘I hear you’ve had some bad luck.’

  Beth stands, running her hands down her trousers. Her palms are sticky. ‘Yeah, you could say that. Thanks for letting me stay. I promise it won’t be for long.’

  Jake’s eyes sparkle. ‘I think we’ll all get along brilliantly,’ he says, and Beth fancies she can hear a threat in his words. So you do recognise me, she thinks, showing her teeth as she smiles back at him. And now I’m in your house.

  That night, Beth heads up to bed early, sensing that Jake wants to speak to Isla alone. She flops down onto the bed, the mattress barely bouncing beneath her, and gazes up at the ceiling, at the walls. There’s a subtle shimmer to the wallpaper; she gets up to inspect it and sees that it’s made up of tiny leaves. She runs her fingers over them, feels the soft ridges.

  She digs through her suitcase and comes up with her wash bag, then tiptoes out of the room and heads for the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her. Dark tiles cover the floor; they feel warm beneath her socked feet. She uses the toilet and washes her hands, drying them on the soft grey towel hanging next to the sink.

  Checking to make sure the door is locked, she steps into the bath and turns the shower on. The water feels amazing. She lathers her hair with some coconut-scented shampoo, then coats it in conditioner. No penny-pinching here; this is the good stuff. She wraps herself in a huge fluffy towel, luxuriating in the softness, then brushes her teeth over the sink before gathering her things and padding quietly back to her room.

  As she closes the door, she thinks she hears a dull thud from downstairs. She pauses, pulling the door open a crack, her breathing loud in the silence. It’s nothing, she tells herself, but she locks the door firmly behind her.

  A few hours later, Beth is still lying on top of the silky sheets, wide awake. Despite the luxury of this room, this house, she cannot sleep. She thinks she heard Jake and Isla go to bed an hour ago; she heard a muffled cry through the wall, the bed creaking. She rolled her eyes and popped in her earphones.

  Now all is quiet. She puts her hands behind her head and stares up at the ceiling. I did it, she thinks, feeling a little thrum of excitement run through her. But it’s not over yet; it’s barely begun. She wonders where Kyle is, whether he’s scuttled back to his mother. She wishes she could have seen him before he ran away, if only to gouge his eyes out. Useless twat. As soon as she told him about the plan, her plan, his face changed from slightly stoned to terrified, his hands running through his hair, making it stand on end.

  ‘Calm down,’ Beth said, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but Kyle jumped up, full of energy for the first time in months.

  ‘Calm down?’ he repeated, beginning to pace the living room floor. ‘You can’t be serious, B. This is one fucked-up plan.’

  ‘Don’t call me that,’ Beth growled under her breath, but Kyle wasn’t listening.

  ‘No way, no fucking way. You need to end this. You are in way over your head.’

  Maybe Kyle was right. Maybe she is in over her head. But she’s in now, and she’ll see it through to the end.

  She gets up and unlocks her bedroom door, peeking out into the darkened hall. She can’t see any light coming from beneath their door; they must be asleep. She creeps down the stairs, fumbles for a light switch in the living room.

  ‘They’re controlled by an app,’ a voice whispers in the darkness. Beth jumps. The lamps suddenly come alive, softly illuminating Isla’s form on the sofa.

  ‘I thought you were asleep,’ Beth says quietly, her heart still racing.

  ‘I don’t sleep very well.’ Isla uncurls her legs from beneath her and stands. Her bare feet must be cold on the wood floor. ‘Fancy a drink?’

  Beth’s face breaks into a smile. She nods. Isla fetches a bottle of wine and two glasses from the kitchen, then sits down beside Beth on the sofa. She pours them both a glass, then fishes a pack of cigarettes out of her dressing gown pocket.

  As they stand outside in the night air, Beth glances at Isla, noticing her bare face, her red-rimmed eyes, her messy hair. She remembers the noises she heard when Isla and Jake went to bed.

  ‘Are you a night owl too?’ Isla asks suddenly, her words misting in the cool air. Beth nods.

  ‘I’ve got so used to the late shifts,’ she says, blowing smoke out of her nostrils.

  ‘When are you due back at work?’

  ‘Not until Tuesday. I had some holiday to use up.’ Beth remembers her manager’s face when she requested the time off, his bushy eyebrows knitted together. ‘Going somewhere nice, are we?’ he said, lips twisting into a sardonic smile. She wanted to punch him.

  Isla nods, drains her glass. ‘Jake’s going away tomorrow,’ she says after a moment. ‘We’ll have the house to ourselves.’ She turns to Be
th and smiles, her eyes lighting up at the prospect. Beth laughs softly. There’s more to this one than meets the eye, she thinks. When she saw Isla in the restaurant that night, the night everything changed, she saw a spoiled rich girl, someone who would never be satisfied with what they had in life. Expensive clothes, silky hair, perfect make-up. She didn’t notice the haunted look in Isla’s eyes, the look that is so very obvious to her now. It gives her a strange thrill – of excitement? Or is it fear?

  ‘So what did you tell him?’ she asks, trying to keep her voice casual. ‘About why I’m staying?’

  Isla looks up, her eyes shining in the dark. ‘Oh, I blamed it on the accident. I said you weren’t…’ She trails off, suddenly unsure. Beth tries to smile reassuringly, nods for Isla to continue. ‘I said you weren’t dealing with it very well?’ Her sentence tails off into a question.

  Beth’s heart leaps with excitement. The perfect excuse. I wonder what Jake thought of that.

  ‘Sorry if I said the wrong thing,’ Isla says hurriedly, her eyes cast down, her shoulders slumped.

  God, she’s sensitive. Beth nudges her gently with her shoulder, smiles widely. ‘Thanks. That’s way less embarrassing than the truth. Stupid Beth gets duped by her loser boyfriend.’ She rolls her eyes.

  Isla frowns. ‘Oh, no, I’m sure he wouldn’t have thought that! I just, I…’

  ‘Don’t worry about it!’ Beth smiles again, then turns to drop her cigarette butt in the ashtray. ‘So, how long will Jake be gone for?’

  ‘A few days.’

  ‘While the cat’s away,’ Beth says, and Isla grins.

  Eighteen

  Isla

  The next morning, I leap out of bed as soon as I hear the front door slam. I feel strangely excited, like a child who has a friend to stay overnight for the first time.