Behind a Closed Door (The Estate, Book 2)

by Mel Sherratt

  A knock at the front door interrupted their conversation for a second time. Emily rushed to her feet but Kelly pulled her back.

  ‘What did I tell you about answering the door?’ she scolded. ‘That’s always Mummy’s job.’

  An awkward silence descended as Jay followed Kelly into the living room.

  ‘Jay!’ shouted Emily.

  ‘Hey there, maggot.’ Jay picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Emily started to squeal and giggle.

  Ill at ease, Josie quickly got to her feet. She wondered why he was calling, although she wouldn’t ask. Tenants were allowed visitors. It wasn’t as if she had – or would even want – control over who came and went.

  ‘Hello, Jay,’ she said. ‘How’s your mother?’

  Jay nodded. ‘She’s okay, ta.’

  Josie spotted the flowers Kelly was holding.

  ‘These are from Scott,’ Kelly said. ‘There’s nothing sinister going on. It’s my birthday tomorrow.’

  ‘Happy birthday,’ Josie offered, with a faint smile. ‘Right, I’ll be on my way. I was nearly finished anyway. One more visit in another four weeks and that’ll be me done officially. It’s obvious you’re doing okay.’

  Kelly sighed. What the hell would Josie think of her now? She must wonder if she associated with every villain on the estate. And it had been fun, she realised, talking to someone different for a change, even if she was a housing officer and therefore known as the anti-Christ.

  Josie couldn’t contain herself when they were alone, though. ‘Does he come round often?’ she said, as Kelly opened the front door to let her out.

  Kelly shrugged a shoulder slightly. ‘He’s been a few times since Scott was sent down. Why?’

  ‘Be careful, hmm? I really like Jay, but maybe you or I don’t know what he’s really capable of.’

  ‘Like Scott, you mean.’

  ‘No,’ Josie faltered. ‘I –’

  ‘Keep your nose out of my business.’ Kelly’s eyes held a look of fury. ‘You can’t run my life for me – and don’t bother calling again if you think you can.’

  She closed the door. By the time she’d climbed the stairs again, her earlier thoughts about a friendship forming had been dismissed. It was Josie’s job to see that she was settled. Maybe that was all she’d ever intended. Kelly now felt foolish thinking anything else.

  Jay took one look at her face and thought better about mentioning his bad timing. Kelly marched past him into the kitchen, filled both rooms with the sound of water gushing out of the tap at full force, then switched on the kettle.

  ‘It’s not you that I’m mad with,’ she shouted through to him. ‘It’s the situation I’m in.’

  ‘Josie’s all right,’ said Jay.

  Kelly sighed as she emerged in the doorway with a turquoise patterned vase for the flowers. ‘I know. That’s what I can’t get my head around. She’s a housing officer – the spawn of the devil, according to Scott.’

  ‘Most people are the spawn of the devil according to Scott.’

  ‘She seems different, though. Well, at least I thought she was.’

  ‘I think she’s really fair.’ Jay casually flicked open the cover of the pink book on the table. Emily’s eyes left the television long enough to register the information and he put it down quickly. ‘I’ve never had a problem with her and I’ve known her for years,’ he added. ‘And she’s someone you can trust not to spread your business. Mitchell’s a great estate for rumour spreading. I should know, being a Kirkwell.’

  Yes, thought Kelly, you being a Kirkwell is the reason why Josie wants to know my business in the first place!

  Josie couldn’t get Kelly’s outburst out of her mind as she walked down the pavement towards Amy’s flat. Sometimes she wished she didn’t care so much, then she wouldn’t get it in the neck when she interfered. Kelly was right: it was none of her business if Jay called round to see her every day – but that didn’t stop her from feeling cynical about it.

  She knocked on Amy’s door but there was no answer. Josie checked her watch: she was ten minutes early. She bent down to check the lock. The key was still there on the other side of the door, meaning that Amy had to be in. Josie knocked again twice, waited for a couple of minutes.

  When she still didn’t come to the door, she pulled out her mobile phone, checked her file for a phone number and rang Amy. From inside the flat, she could hear the phone ringing. Concerned, she knocked again.

  ‘Amy? It’s Josie. I know you’re in there. What’s the matter?’

  Still there was no answer. Josie quickly wrote a message on a calling card and popped it through the letterbox. Unable to do any more, she went back to her car.

  Bloody typical, she thought.

  Now she had Amy and Kelly to worry about.

  For Josie, the day hadn’t ended at five o’clock as the office closed its doors to the public. By rights, it wasn’t her night to stay late for the monthly residents meeting, but Ray had conveniently had a memory lapse and left early straight from his last appointment. He’d rung in to speak to one of the admin staff rather than directly to her. Josie wasn’t the type of person to shoot the messenger, so she’d had no choice but to step in.

  ‘It’s bloody ridiculous what we have to put up with around here,’ Saul Tamworth said, as he slammed his fist down onto the table. ‘I’m not paying a penny more in rent unless you get something done about it.’

  ‘Yeah, too right,’ nodded Muriel Tamworth. ‘It’s so flipping noisy, every night.’

  Mr and Mrs Tamworth lived in Warren Street, on the outskirts of the estate. Over the past few months, they’d been plagued by a gang of teenagers tearing around on scrambler bikes across the open fields behind their property – a property they’d moved into because of the open fields they overlooked.

  ‘Like I told you at the last meeting,’ Josie reiterated patiently, ‘this is a matter for the police to deal with. It’s an anti-social behaviour issue and you need to contact them every time the boys come –’

  ‘That’s no bloody use. They can’t do anything either! They’re always far too busy to respond to the likes of us. Seven times I rang the switchboard last night.’

  Mr Tamworth was a heavily-built man in his late fifties, with grey hair and cheeks that matched the shade of his grubby red sweatshirt precisely. His wife was a fair bit younger, probably early thirties, built like a barrel with greasy hair and a face covered in acne. To Josie they seemed an odd couple, more like uncle and niece. They were two of nine tenants who had turned up for the monthly tenants’ meeting – ‘the gripe night’, they called it back at the office. They sat on orange plastic chairs, squashed around a snooker table, in a room at the back of the community centre.

  Josie tuned out of Mr Tamworth’s rants and checked her watch as another tenant, Mrs Roper, joined in. ‘I think it’s preposterous that you can’t do anything about it,’ she shouted across the room. ‘The noise is atrocious, it’s like having a hair dryer on high speed and I can’t hear my television half the time.’

  Josie wondered how she could hear anything above the full volume of her television. Mrs Roper had worn a hearing aid for the best part of thirty years now. Whenever Josie visited, it was sometimes minutes before she could get her attention, even banging on the front window after trying the door.

  ‘Yeah, and it’s always late when they –’

  Josie held up a hand, trying to bring things back to the agenda. ‘I’ll have another word with PC Baxter and see what he can do. If he’s on shift, maybe if he walks around the area every night for a couple of weeks, things might calm down.’

  ‘That isn’t the point.’ Mrs Tamworth folded her arms across a huge chest that sat on an even larger stomach. ‘They’ll only move onto somewhere else.’

  Josie raised her eyes to the ceiling and withheld her exasperation.

  ‘Before we move on,’ Mr Ashworth from number 92 William Precinct began to speak, ‘I’d like to congratulate Josie on getting rid of most
of the dog poo from in front of my house. It’s been far more pleasant taking my daily walk.’

  ‘Must be because you haven’t let your own dog out to crap everywhere else,’ muttered Mrs Pike from number 74.

  Mr Ashworth sat forward in his chair and turned his head to the right. ‘You always have to say something detrimental, don’t you, Mrs Pike? You can’t say a nice word about anyone.’

  Mrs Pike huffed. ‘That’s because I’m always right. You let that ratty thing of yours crap all over my pathway last month.’

  ‘I cleaned it up, didn’t I? Charlie has been poorly lately.’

  ‘I bet it won’t be long before it happens again.’

  ‘It’ll be a very long time, my dear. He passed away last week.’

  ‘Moving swiftly on,’ Josie interrupted. She checked the agenda for the next item on the list: number four of sixteen. Great, she sighed – the recent spate of burglaries. And considering there had been another two during the past fortnight, plus another attack on an elderly woman that had left her severely battered and bruised, Josie knew she’d be in for a roasting – even though it was nothing to do with her job.

  CHAPTER NINE

  By the time everyone had made sure they’d put their point forward, some more forcefully than others, Josie finally brought the meeting to a halt at five to seven. After stacking all the chairs and washing the coffee cups, she left for home ten minutes later. With hardly any traffic on the road, she’d just get back in time for Coronation Street. Quickly, she sent a text message to Stewart to let him know she was on her way.

  She drove the short journey through the dark streets, wondering why her tenants always worried over the most trivial of matters. Didn’t they have anything better in their lives to occupy their minds, apart from moaning about the little things or going on about other people’s behaviour? It was bound to be a case of the pot calling the kettle – Josie would love to get inside their homes at night to see what they really got up to behind closed doors. Then she thought of the huge age gap between Mr and Mrs Tamworth – hmm, maybe not.

  Stewart was sprawled the length of the settee in the living room when she arrived home, but immediately jumped up to join her in the kitchen.

  ‘Where the bloody hell have you been until now?’ he demanded.

  ‘Let me at least take my coat off before you start ranting,’ Josie said. ‘I had to cover a tenants’ meeting. Didn’t you get my first text message? I sent it about half past four.’

  ‘You never told me about it last night.’

  ‘That’s because I didn’t know about it then. Good old Ray decided to bunk off and I was the only one left to cover it. Have you eaten yet?’ Josie unzipped her fleece and moved through to the kitchen. ‘If you haven’t, I can cook you something while I catch Corrie on the portable.’

  She’d only made it to the fridge when Stewart came up behind her. He slammed his palm on the wall by the side of her head.

  ‘You’re seeing someone else, aren’t you?’

  ‘What? Don’t be –’

  Stewart grabbed her arm, pulled her closer and sniffed. ‘I can smell him on you. You’ve been with him tonight.’

  Josie flinched as his fingers dug into her skin. ‘I haven’t been near anyone else. You know I wouldn’t do –’

  ‘How would I know? You could use that frigging job of yours as an excuse any time you want to. I wouldn’t be any wiser. You could even meet him at one of your empty properties. You’ve got loads of opportunities, so don’t deny it.’

  ‘Stop it!’ she cried. ‘You’re hurting me.’

  ‘You don’t see a problem with hurting ME!’

  ‘Let me go! I haven’t been seeing anyone else!’

  Stewart loosened his grip and bent forward, his face an inch away from hers. ‘No, you’re right.’ He sniggered. ‘No one in their right mind would have you, would they?’

  Josie let out her breath as she watched him shrug on his coat. There was so much that she wanted to say, but words wouldn’t form. Instead, she watched him swipe up his car keys and leave the room.

  As soon as the front door slammed behind him, she burst into tears. She sat down at the kitchen table, tentatively rolling her shoulder as she tried to ease the pain in her arm. What had got into him now? If it wasn’t the house, he’d be moaning about something else. Something trivial, just like most of her tenants. It was like being at work at times. Throughout their marriage, all she’d ever done for Stewart was her best, and now even that didn’t seem good enough. But then again, no wonder he thought she was a good catch. He could see ‘easy life’ written all the way through her like the lettering inside a stick of seaside rock.

  Josie had met Stewart after a night out in the town. One of the office girls was leaving and most of the housing staff had gone for a meal to send her on her way. It was only after Josie had dropped the last of her passengers off that her car decided to splutter to a halt half a mile from home. Reluctant to walk alone in the dark, she’d rung Kay, the office manager, who had sent husband Richard to help. In the meantime, she’d opened the driver’s door, released the handbrake and attempted to push it to the side of the road.

  Stewart, with several of his friends, had rounded the corner on the way back from the pub to see a damsel in distress. They’d manoeuvred the car into a better position, locked it up and gone on their way. Moments later, Stewart had returned to keep her company and by the time Richard had arrived, they’d arranged to meet up for a drink the following lunch time. Josie could hardly believe her luck. He was the first man who’d shown an interest in her since her mum died.

  Stewart had swept Josie off her feet. He called her beautiful and her confidence had grown. Josie knew she wasn’t beautiful – far from it, with her pale complexion, wavy mass of hair and waif-like figure. But he took control of her, made her think that she needed him. And, after losing her mum, that was exactly what she did need. It took her a long while to realise, however, that what she’d first mistaken for loving concern was actually his possessive manner.

  Their wedding day a year later had been quiet. Josie wasn’t one for a huge affair and Stewart had agreed with his bride-to-be. But it had been a lot quieter than she had at first anticipated. Stewart had booked the ceremony at the local registry office for the month after he’d proposed. He said there was no point in waiting now that they both knew what they wanted. There had only been the two of them. Stewart had managed to persuade a couple in their late fifties to witness the occasion, brought a disposable camera at the local chemist and a suit from the high street. Josie wore a dress she’d found in the summer sales the week before and, late in August 2007, she became Mrs Josie Mellor. A quick meal afterwards – Stewart insisted on the witnesses tagging along too, giving them no time alone to celebrate – and that had been that.

  It was when he came to live with her that things started to change. Like Josie, Stewart had never moved away from the family home, but his had been rented from the local council. Giving it up had been easy for him. There was no more rent to pay and what furniture he had he sold.

  Before long, he began to question Josie’s every motive: what time was she coming home, what time did the meeting finish, could anyone else go instead? Josie soon realised he was a control freak, often behaving like a spoilt child if he didn’t have things his own way. It wasn’t long until she realised that she was in the same position that she’d been in with her mother.

  She stared at her weary reflection in the window as she sat in silence. She wondered if this was really what marriage was about, what everyone raved about, what other girls had craved since puberty. Was this the ‘worse’ part mentioned in the wedding vows she’d taken, or did it get any better?

  She wondered again if Stewart still loved her. Had he ever loved her or had he only ever seen her as a safe bet? Good old Josie; in her mind’s eye, even she could see how much of a catch she’d been. She didn’t have to be exceptional in the looks department to provide a roof over his head. She di
dn’t need to keep up with the latest fashions to wash, dry and iron his clothes. She didn’t have to have a confident manner to cook him a decent meal.

  One lone tear trickled down her cheek. She left it to travel down her chin, her neck, her chest, as she wondered what she should do about things.

  She knew what she should do. But she also knew what she would do – absolutely nothing.

  ‘Hello, you.’ Cathy Mason flashed a welcoming smile as she opened her door to find Josie on her front door step. ‘How’s tricks?’

  ‘Fine. I called by on the off chance you’d be in,’ Josie explained, glad of a warm welcome for a change. ‘I heard about the burglary. Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.’ Cathy’s shoulders sagged. ‘Which is more than can be said about my TV! Whoever the bastard was, he put a hammer through the screen. I hadn’t had it long.’

  Josie pulled a sympathetic face. ‘It’s a good job you’re insured.’

  ‘Yes, and Matt has fitted better locks now, but it still pisses you off, doesn’t it? Have you got time for a cuppa?’

  ‘Sometimes I don’t believe a word of what they say about this estate and its tenants. Some of them are salt of the earth.’ Josie grinned. ‘I’d love one please.’

  ‘There’s a packet of chocolate biscuits in the cupboard,’ she pointed. ‘Help yourself.’

  ‘So, how are you and Matt getting along? Still good, I hope?’ Josie enquired, as Cathy bustled about making coffee. Cathy’s smile told her everything she needed to know. She sighed wistfully. ‘I wish I could have a little more happiness every now and again.’

  ‘Oh dear. That doesn’t sound good.’

  ‘Never mind me, I’m rambling.’ Josie waved the remark away with the flick of a wrist. ‘Something and nothing. Have the police got any clues as to who it might be?’

  Cathy shook her head. ‘Nope, they just gave me a crime reference number. I’m yet again another statistic.’

  ‘Do you think it might be linked to anyone you have staying here?’