Behind a Closed Door (The Estate, Book 2)

by Mel Sherratt

  Kelly watched as Josie stared ahead deep in thought, a frown on her face. In a matter of seconds she was faced with her worst nightmare. Should she tell Josie what she knew about Stewart? Was it really any of her business to interfere?

  But how could she tell her?

  Then again, how could she not tell her? How would she feel if it was kept from her?

  Josie turned to her with a smile but she could see her eyes brimming with tears. Before she gave herself time to bottle out, Kelly spoke out.

  ‘Josie, I have something to tell you.’

  ‘When did you find this out? More to the point, how did you find this out? You’re telling me that his mother is alive? That he pretends he isn’t married to me, like I don’t exist? They think he’s a single bloke at the factory?’

  The questions all came out at once. Kelly hardly had time to answer one before Josie fired another at her. She watched the colour fading from her face.

  ‘It can’t be true.’ Josie clasped her hands together to stop them shaking. She sat down with a thump.

  ‘I wouldn’t have told you without checking everything out first,’ Kelly said.

  ‘It’s not that I don’t believe you.’ Josie shook her head. ‘Quite frankly, I wouldn’t put it past Stewart to do such a thing the more I’ve seen of him lately. It’s just that I don’t want to believe he would do it to me.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let you give away half of your house to a fuckwit like him.’

  ‘How long have you known?’

  ‘Since I saw that photo, the one that fell out of the books you gave to Emily.’ Kelly gulped. This was the moment of truth, the moment where she’d find out if Josie hated her for not telling her sooner.

  Josie’s right eye twitched. ‘But that was weeks ago! Why didn’t you tell me then?’

  ‘I… I… didn’t know how to.’

  Josie was lost for words. Her mind formed question after question. What Kelly had told her would make perfect sense to anyone who knew Stewart. He was sneaky enough, she knew that. But would even he do something as bitter and twisted as this? And why, what would be his reasoning?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Kelly.

  But Josie didn’t blame her. ‘This isn’t your fault. I’d have done the same thing in your predicament.’

  ‘Really?’ Kelly didn’t sound convinced.

  ‘Absolutely. Besides, knowing this allows me to be one step ahead for a while until I figure out what the hell is going on.’

  As soon as Josie got home that evening, she raced up to the spare room where she had stored all of Stewart’s belongings. He hadn’t collected them, no matter how many times she had asked. She wondered if he thought that the longer he left them there, the more chance there was of him coming back, when in actual fact there was no chance at all. If what Kelly had told her earlier turned out to be true, his stuff would be thrown at the gates of Miles’ Factory.

  She checked through the things she’d bagged up for him, and inside the boxes that she had filled with items from the drawers of his desk: lots of papers, magazines, notepads and car brochures, old bill reminders. Then she paused for a moment before dashing downstairs to the hallway. Rummaging through the recent pile of mail that had accumulated in Stewart’s name, she found the envelope she was after. With shaking hands, she reached inside it and pulled out the letter.

  For what seemed like forever, she stood in the hallway. Still in denial, she read the salutation again.

  Dear Mrs Sarah Mellor. Mrs S Mellor.

  Was it any wonder the bank hadn’t stopped sending the statements out after she’d complained? There hadn’t been any mistake in their wording. The letter shouldn’t have been addressed to Mr S Mellor.

  Stewart’s mother was called Sarah.

  Mrs Sarah Mellor.

  Mrs S Mellor.

  Josie looked down to the bottom of the letter. The balance on the enclosed statement was twenty-two thousand, seven hundred and twenty-nine pounds. And twenty-one pence; mustn’t forget the pennies.

  She stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. A deflated Josie stared back at her. A destroyed, disillusioned Josie. A bruised, a battered Josie.

  An enraged Josie that was ready to erupt at any second. She went through to the living room, put on a CD and switched the volume up high. Then she screamed.

  Stewart had lied to her. He’d told her his parents had died, how despicable was that! He’d used the ‘death’ of her mother to find common territory to play his little game. He’d conned – there could be no other word for it – his way into her life, pretending to love her. Josie couldn’t work out the whys and wherefores yet, but there had to be some reason behind what he’d done.

  Her mind flipped back to the night when Stewart had accused her of having an affair. He hadn’t been jealous at all – just simply worried that he’d lose his place to live. How had she let him get away with it?

  Josie threw herself onto the settee. Her marriage had been a sham, bogus – a set-up, if you like. And she’d fallen for it. She felt humiliated, hurt, angry and upset. Still the tears came.

  Suddenly remembering their wedding album, she ran into the kitchen, pulled the photos from their cheap-plastic coverings and slashed at every one of them with a pair of scissors. Twenty six-by-fours from a disposable camera. She often wondered why she’d kept them: they’d been cheap and nasty, a reminder of the day itself. It hadn’t been what she’d wanted; the marriage had been no better.

  Ten minutes later, Josie pulled herself tall and turned down the CD before Mrs Clancy next door complained. From a bottle that had been open for some time, she poured a large brandy, allowing herself a moment’s pleasure as it made its way down her throat. Then she gathered up her wits and sat down. She needed to think about what to do next.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Poplar Village was on the outskirts of the Mitchell Estate, nearly into the city centre of Stockleigh itself. The building was a little over four-years-old and set up into self-contained flats, one hundred and ten of them to be precise. Josie stood in the entrance with Kelly. They were waiting to meet Jay and his mum.

  ‘There’s an electronic door system,’ Josie explained as she pressed buttons marked ‘reception’ and ‘call’ consecutively at the entrance. ‘You can’t get in unless you’re invited or with an electronic key fob.’

  Josie had found that she hadn’t needed to plant a seed in Cynthia Kirkwell’s mind when she’d called round to see her. Once Cynthia had seen the colour brochure that advertised Poplar Village, she’d practically packed her bags there and then.

  ‘She’s driven Jay mad going on about it,’ Kelly told her, while they waited to be let in. ‘It does look great, though, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Josie. ‘I’m tempted to add my name to the waiting list every time I visit, ready for when I retire. I think it’s the most practical use of space under one roof that I’ve ever seen.’

  A buzzer went off and Josie grabbed for the door. ‘I’ve found out that three people have died over the past month – sounds harsh but it’s the only reason flats become empty. There’s a pretty high turnover here, as you’d expect. I’ve blagged my way into viewing two of them. Unfortunately, it’s taken me three days to get the necessary transfer paperwork filled in. I’ve had to put other work on hold and go back to the office to do this so you owe me big time.’

  Josie had arranged to borrow a wheelchair from reception. She told Kelly to wait by the door with it while she checked her mobile to see if she had a message or an email from her solicitor. After her recent discovery plus the fiasco when she’d sent the letter by herself, she wanted to see where she legally stood before she decided what to do next about Stewart. But there was nothing yet. Looking up, she spotted Cynthia being wheeled over by Jay and went to meet them.

  Cynthia waved her welcome. ‘Hello, Josie. Have you got the keys? I can’t wait to see them.’

  ‘She hasn’t shut up about it since you came to
see her,’ Jay muttered to Josie through clenched teeth.

  The first flat was decorated throughout with curtains and carpets left behind too. Josie always marvelled at the way residents looked after new-build properties far better than older ones. She couldn’t smell a single bad odour in here.

  Cynthia touched Jay’s arm. ‘Help me out of this chair, son. I want to see everything standing up.’

  They spent ten minutes there before moving onto the next flat. While Jay wheeled his mother along the brightly lit corridor, Josie held back and grabbed Kelly’s arm.

  ‘You and Jay seem a little close,’ she said.

  ‘He’s helped me through a lot lately.’ Kelly shook her head. ‘We’re just mates.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought fleeting glances were shooting across the room?’

  Jay looked back over his shoulder and they both quickened their pace – but not before Josie spotted Kelly blushing.

  ‘Tell him,’ she urged, nudging Kelly a little harsher than she’d intended.

  ‘Tell him what?’

  ‘That you love him, you want to kiss him, you want to marry him.’

  ‘You sound like a teenager.’

  ‘You’re acting like one.’

  Kelly licked her tongue out at her before flouncing off dramatically.

  Josie hurried ahead too; she had the keys to the next flat. ‘Right, Cynthia, wait until you see the décor in this one.’

  This flat was slightly larger than the first one. The kitchen units were a pale lemon and the walls had been painted a peach colour. The living room had a picture window at its far end and the view out of the bedroom window was of so far undeveloped fields.

  ‘I can see cows out of the window!’ Cynthia clapped her hands in delight. With Jay’s help, she got out of the wheelchair again. ‘It certainly beats looking at old Mrs Morrison’s huge knickers on the washing line next door.’

  Josie smiled. ‘Old Mrs Morrison’ was sixty-two, six years younger than Cynthia.

  ‘Everything’s so new,’ Cynthia exclaimed next. ‘Are you sure I can afford to live here? It looks pretty pricey to me.’

  ‘Your housing benefit will cover most of it,’ Josie explained. ‘And the money from your allowances that you save on personal care now that it’s provided here will go towards the rest.’

  With a huge effort on the part of her knees, Cynthia sat down in the wheelchair again. She watched Jay, who was checking over the bathroom facilities. ‘I’ll be able to have a shower by myself,’ she sighed.

  ‘I think she’ll have this one,’ Kelly whispered to Josie. ‘I know I would. It’s nicer than my flat. And that indoor garden is amazing.’

  ‘What do you think, Mum?’ Jay shouted over to Cynthia.

  ‘I love it, son,’ Cynthia answered. ‘When can I move my stuff in?’

  ‘Don’t you want to think about it first?’ said Josie. ‘It’s a big decision.’

  Cynthia shook her head. She reached for Jay’s hand as he walked past. He stooped down to her level.

  ‘I don’t know how I would have survived this long if it wasn’t for your help, Jay. At least I have one good son.’

  Josie noticed Kelly and Jay sharing that look again and sniggered. Kelly threw her the evil eye before sniggering herself.

  ‘But it’s about time you lived a little,’ Cynthia continued, oblivious to any goings-on. ‘You deserve it after looking out for me for so long. And there are people here that I can mix with.’ She winked at him. ‘I’ll be able to fend for myself. It’s not right for me to burden myself on you. You’ve got your own life.’

  ‘Are you sure, though, Mum?’ asked Jay.

  Cynthia smiled up at her youngest son. ‘You’re a good boy, Jay. I’m so lucky to have you.’

  Tears glistened in Jay’s eyes as Cynthia’s face lit up. Josie went into the kitchen to stop her tears from falling. For so long she’d been in Jay’s position being a carer, taking the rough days with the smooth. It ate at your soul every day they deteriorated. At least Josie could make things better for Cynthia – and for Jay.

  Cynthia looked up at Josie expectantly when she’d gathered herself together and rejoined the group.

  ‘He will be able to stay at the house?’ she wanted to know. ‘Because if he can’t, I’m not moving.’

  Josie nodded. ‘Yes, he can stay. I can transfer the tenancy over into Jay’s name once you’ve moved in here. He’s been living there far longer than necessary.’

  ‘Then I’ll take it,’ Cynthia said firmly. She pinched Jay’s chin; this time, he knocked her hand away in jest.

  Kelly hung back to wait for Josie while she locked the door once they were all out in the corridor.

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ she asked.

  Josie turned towards her with a frown. ‘What?’

  ‘To see Stewart’s mum. I’ll come with you, if you like. That’s what you want to do, isn’t it?’

  Josie was amazed at Kelly’s insight.

  ‘I’m not sure it would make any difference.’ She sighed.

  ‘Me neither.’ Kelly shrugged. ‘But it might put your mind at rest, for one thing. And it would give you more evidence to use against him. I’d want to know if it was me.’

  Subj: It’s me again!

  Date: 30/05/2013 19:07

  From: Americanboy@bluememory.com

  To: J.Mellor@MitchellHousingAssociation.co.uk

  Hi Josie,

  I thought I’d let you know where I’ve been on my latest excursion. I was taken on the Staten Island Ferry, where I had a perfect view of The Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. The weather was so hot though! Last weekend we barbequed with some of their friends and also some of the people I’ve been working with. I’ve met some really lovely people. Darwin and Jorja have adopted me – they’ve made me feel so welcome.

  Tata for now, James.

  PS I’ve attached more photos, this place is so picturesque. The one with me and the two boys in the park - that’s the twins, Warwick and Caleb. What great names!

  By the middle of the week, Josie was kept busy as she surveyed the work continuing at the Workshop. Most of the sub-contractors had finished but there were still the odd painting and decorating jobs to be done before all the flooring could be fitted. Kelly was helping out too. It was good to get another opinion on how things were progressing. Eddie, the architect who had been overseeing the building work, had a great eye for walls and wood and window frames, but he had no idea on colour schemes and desk shapes, storage units and comfortable chairs.

  Josie’s mind, however, was buzzing with other things. There was the visit planned for Friday – she felt anxious about it already but everything at the bungalow was ready to go: empty electrical boxes on display looking as though they were still full, the odd bits of furniture but no curtains. Andy had told her that the police were setting up a ‘capture house’ – putting cameras in place at the bungalow for all of next weekend rather than having to keep watch. All she needed to do now was give Debbie a few subtle clues – and hope that she took the bait. Or, perhaps, hope that she didn’t. She’d already arranged to take her out on a few visits on the pretext of closing as many cases as possible before The Workshop opened. Her intention was to show Debbie the goods clearly on display through the window and tell her that Mrs Marley was definitely moving in on the following Monday. It would mean that Philip Matson would have to do the robbery that weekend or miss out.

  She also still had Stewart to deal with. Her solicitor had returned her call, urging her to refer him back to them if he came to the house or sent any more letters. But she still needed to see for herself. An hour later, she picked Kelly up during her lunch break. In less than ten minutes, they were driving along a road, looking out for a number to indicate whereabouts Stewart’s mum lived. Kelly had managed to find out her address pretty easily: Leah Bradley’s current boyfriend was a postman.

/>   ‘What if she knows all about it?’ Josie said, peering at the houses. She spotted a plaque with a brass number nine on it and drove on, realising she needed the other side. ‘What if there’s a reason why he’s kept her a secret from me? That they’re in this together somehow?’

  ‘Although I wish that was true for your sake, I very much doubt it,’ Kelly said. ‘Twenty-six, twenty-eight… Oh my god, she’s there! I can see her.’

  Josie pulled into the kerb quickly. She turned to look again just as Kelly wriggled down her seat.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘She’s in the garden. I don’t want her to see me.’

  ‘Why?’

  Kelly thought about it and then pulled herself up again. ‘I’m not sure, really.’

  ‘Look, we aren’t on a surveillance job for Scott and Bailey. Where is she? Oh shit, she’s there!’

  Josie wriggled down in her seat.

  When she had got over the initial shock and sat upright again, for the next few minutes Josie watched the woman she assumed to be her mother-in-law winding a few straying clematis stems around a wooden frame. Then she unclipped her seatbelt.

  ‘Where are you going?’ said Kelly.

  ‘Over to talk to her.’

  ‘No, you can’t!’

  ‘I can’t sit here and do nothing!’

  ‘But you might upset her! And it’s not her fault.’

  ‘For all I know, she could be part of the scam.’

  ‘What scam?’ Kelly looked over at the woman and then back to Josie. ‘You’ve lost me. Is there something that you haven’t told me?’

  Josie floundered. ‘No, but you have to admit, something weird is going on.’

  ‘Yes, but she might not know anything. Imagine how upset she’ll be then. She probably thinks Stewart’s a devoted son. God knows how she’ll feel when you tell her he’s married to you. Even worse, he’s been lying to you both for years.’

  Josie stared through the windscreen. Mrs Mellor was standing up now, rubbing at her back. It made Josie realise that, although age must have shrunken her slightly, she was still tall. Like Stewart.