The Other Side Of The Wall: A Gripping Psychological Thriller

by Andrea Mara

  Jean hasn’t spotted it, so he scoops up the child and grabs a tea towel, deftly catching the big dollop that was about to land on the carpet.

  “Sorry, thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” says Jean as she grabs the yogurt from Peter and puts it in the bin. “What have I told you about taking food from the fridge without asking?”

  Peter grins up at his mother, not at all put out. He walks over to the fridge and takes out another yogurt.

  “It’s not here, it’s not anywhere – I can’t understand it. I’m sure I left it in the coffee tin in the high press like I always do, but maybe this time I didn’t. I remember the twins were writing on the wall and I ran to stop them, so maybe I put it somewhere else this time . . .”

  “What will you do if you can’t find it?” he asks hesitantly, not wanting the tears to start again.

  “I don’t know,” she sighs, flopping down on the couch. “I’ll have to borrow.”

  “I don’t have much but I can give you twenty pounds – does that help?”

  Her eyes fill with fresh tears, and she puts her hand to her chest.

  “I don’t know what to say. You’re so sweet. I can’t take your money, but thank you for offering. I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has done for me in years.”

  He nods, looking at his feet. “Who will you borrow from?” he asks.

  “I suppose one of those lenders – I know the rates are a scandal but what can I do? If I can’t pay the electricity, we’ll be cut off, and if I can’t pay the rent, we’ll be evicted.” Her voice wobbles over the last word.

  “Take care about dealing with lenders – you know they can cause trouble if you don’t pay them back. I mean real trouble,” he tells her.

  “I know, it’s not something I’d normally do but what choice do I have?” She breaks into tears again, head buried in hands, shoulders hunched.

  He walks over and pats her on the shoulder, handing her a tissue.

  “Sorry, love, what am I like? You go on. You’ve been so good to me since I moved in – look at the state of me!”

  “All right, I’ll head on, but only if you’re sure you’ll be okay and you don’t need any more help? Even with minding the boys for a while?”

  “No, I’m fine – you go, and thank you.”

  She closes the door behind him and he goes back next door.

  “Did you get the teabags, love?” she asks.

  “Sorry, no, Jean was in a state – she’s lost her rent money for the whole month. She took it out of the post office earlier, to pay her rent and her bills. She’s in bits in there.”

  His mother nods, but she’s distracted.

  “I’m just heading out again to see if I can get some teabags for you – the corner shop will still be open,” he says.

  “Ah no, leave it, love, I’ll be grand until tomorrow – and there’s something I wanted to chat about.”

  But he’s already pulling on his green bomber jacket. “I’ll only be ten minutes. Sure, stick the kettle on – I might even bring you some biscuits.” He winks at her as he walks out the door.

  Hands deep inside his jacket pockets, hunched over against the evening chill, he walks quickly down Canon Street, turning onto a small side-street as dusk unfolds across the sky. Ahead, he can see two figures, both wearing black hoodies, the orange glow of their cigarettes just visible in their cupped hands. He slows his pace, still walking towards them. They look up and stand up straighter, watching his approach.

  “You got something for us?” says the smaller of the two.

  “Yeah. A woman near me – Jean Duggan is her name. Number 12. She’s desperate. Tell Grogan he could probably charge what he likes with that one,” he says.

  “I bet you had something to do with that, did ya?” the other one says.

  “None of your business. I’m giving you what you want, as agreed – that’s all you need to know.”

  The smaller one takes the two steps towards him and thrusts some notes into his waiting hand.

  “And I’ll get my cut as usual once it’s up and running,” he reminds them.

  “Yeah, now go before you’re seen here.”

  He walks back up the laneway, pocketing his cash. It’s not much, but the real money will come with his cut of the weekly repayments, just like all the others. And anyway, he thinks, pulling a wad of cash from his inside pocket, he has Jean Duggan’s rent money too, so that’s not bad for a day’s work. Whistling quietly in the dark night air, he heads towards the shop to get teabags for his mother.

  Chapter 40

  Sylvia – Friday, September 2nd 2016

  The person looking back at Sylvia from the mirror looks familiar but it’s a while since she’s seen her. Eyeliner, blusher, heels she hasn’t worn in months, and her hair loose around her shoulders. Tom walks in as she’s putting on one last coat of mascara, and he almost manages to keep the surprise out of his voice when he tells her she looks nice. He’s still confused about why she’s going out for drinks with someone she hardly knows. Doesn’t she usually do coffee with her mum-friends? It’s easier than coffee with Zack in tow, she explains. And she needs a night out – a break from everything. He suggests they have a night out soon – get a baby-sitter – and she nods, but she knows she won’t leave the kids with anyone until they sort out the thing with the house.

  She hears a car and goes to Megan’s room to see if it’s the taxi. It’s not but, looking down, she sees Noel walking purposefully into Sam’s driveway. What could he want with Sam? Curious, she lingers for a moment but then he’s at the front door and out of sight. Her taxi pulls up and she runs back to her own room to get her bag. She takes a final look in the mirror at her black strappy top and skinny black jeans – for once she might have got it right.

  When Kate walks into the bar in a black strappy top and skinny black jeans, Sylvia realises she got it a little bit too right, but Kate doesn’t seem to notice, or is too polite to say. She kisses Sylvia on the cheek and orders a glass of Pinot Grigio. The post-work buzz is loud but side by side at the bar, heads close together, they can just about hear one another. Kate says she’s moved into her mother’s house in Stillorgan now, and it’s not as bad as she thought – plus they’re a little bit nearer to the school than they were in Dún Laoghaire. She’s told the boys the news, and that wasn’t as bad as she expected either – on some level they seem to have been anticipating it. Seth was relieved, she reckons, after hearing nothing for so long. Jamie didn’t really get it, but took it in his stride. And she told them it’s just how it is now – things might change after Mum and Dad have had a break. She’s not sure the last bit is true.

  Sylvia swallows a lump in her throat, picturing these kids she’s never met hearing this awful news, and imagining the horror of some day having to have that conversation with Megan and Zack. She’d never let it happen. Then of course, that’s easy to say – no doubt Kate and Sam never thought it would happen either, back when they first decided to get married.

  “Where did you two meet?” she asks.

  “Well, when I think about it now, maybe it was an omen. We met when his aunt died. Perhaps not the best start for a relationship? I was working as a waitress in the Meridian Park Hotel, and he and his family had just buried his aunt – they had the funeral reception in the hotel, and that’s where we met. My mum thought it was hilarious. I didn’t care – I thought he was gorgeous.”

  “He is very good-looking,” Sylvia agrees, floating just a little on her second glass of wine. “And very charming too.”

  Kate gives her a funny look. “Do you think so?”

  “Well, he seems quite charismatic – I can see why you fell for him. I mean, obviously he’s also a complete dick for cheating on you. Sorry, I should have said that the other way around. He’s an asshole, but a charming one. Right, I’ll stop talking now.”

  “Did he say anything the other day when you told him you knew about the split – anything about us?”

  “No, not really.”
>
  Kate puts down her glass and looks Sylvia squarely in the eye. “He did, didn’t he – just tell me.”

  “Well, he said something about two sides to every story, as though I was taking your side I guess, and then I got a bit annoyed and said cheating is cheating. Sorry. You must think I’m a lunatic, butting in on your marriage. I’d normally run a mile rather than confront anyone.”

  “Oh, come on – if you were defending me to my soon-to-be-ex, we should drink to that! I thought you were going to tell me he said something bad about me.”

  Kate orders more wine and Sylvia promises herself she won’t mention anything else from the conversation with Sam. Whatever happened in Kate’s past is her business, and surely has nothing to do with the break-up. She’s almost certain she’s going to keep her promise. As long as she doesn’t have too many more drinks – the wine is just starting to warm her nicely from the inside out.

  “So I take it you’ve been together ever since you met at the funeral?”

  “Yes, well, we did break up once back when we were first seeing each other – he cheated on me with an ex-girlfriend who was home from the States. See – I’m parroting him – that’s all he kept saying at the time, that she was an ex and that she was home from the States. As if that made it okay.” Kate closes her eyes for a moment and, when she speaks again, her voice is so quiet Sylvia can hardly hear. “I guess I should have known. Once a cheat, always a cheat.”

  Sylvia touches her arm. “Well, that does seem different – I mean you were very young then, weren’t you? Lots of people do dumb stuff like that.”

  “Yeah, and we were only together a few months. I think the reason I was so pissed off was because I’d been there to get him through a rough few months after his aunt died, then Molly swanned back in and he was off with her just like that. Jesus, he was a mess back then. I’m surprised I stuck with him when I think about it.”

  “Was he really close to his aunt?”

  Kate’s face changes. “Not so much that he was close, but he was there when she died. She took her own life. That’s pretty hard on anyone.”

  Jesus. Suddenly Sylvia is feeling sorry for Sam again. Who really knows what goes on in people’s lives? “God, that’s awful. Did she have any history of depression or was it just out of the blue?”

  “Ah, looking back they could all see it – that made it worse, because they all blamed themselves then. She’d been deteriorating for months – not leaving the house, talking about hearing voices – that kind of thing. Sam said she was getting more and more paranoid – thinking everyone was out to get her. She kept saying someone was in her house at night. She’d come down in the morning and claim things had been moved around and say someone had come in during the night and done it.”

  Sylvia grips the stem of her wineglass so tightly she’s afraid it’s going to snap. Her stomach is in a knot. “And did they?”

  “Did they what?”

  “I mean, was someone coming into her house at night?”

  “Of course not! She’d done it herself and couldn’t remember, but it was a tough time for all of them dealing with it.”

  Sylvia is suddenly nauseous and excuses herself to go to the bathroom. Splashing water on her face sobers her up a little. She grips the sides of the sink, going over what Kate just said. It can’t be coincidence, can it? Or maybe Sam’s aunt did imagine all of it, and maybe she’s suffering from some kind of disorder too? She googles paranoia and loss of memory on her phone, and the first three results are Depression, Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder. Jesus, put the phone away she tells herself, and goes back out to Kate.

  “Are you all right? You look pale?”

  “I’m fine – I just didn’t eat before I came out and the wine is going to my head.”

  Kate grabs a menu off the bar. “I’m famished too – let’s eat.”

  Two burgers with rustic fries later, the conversation turns to Willow Valley – Kate is curious about the street on which she almost lived. It’s quiet and nice, Sylvia tells her, and with some notable exceptions, people keep to themselves. Then Kate tells her about a letter she got during the summer – an anonymous letter saying that Sam was cheating. She still doesn’t know who it was from, she says. After a moment, Sylvia realises Kate is looking pointedly at her.

  “Oh no! It wasn’t me – honestly. If anyone on the road would send a letter like that, it would be Rosemary. She knows everyone, and loves a gossip. Or Noel who lives just across from your house – he’s always been a bit odd and he seems to have a lot of interest in your husband.”

  “Oh?”

  “I saw him outside your house one night quite late, and I saw him calling in just before I left this evening – no doubt out of pure nosiness. And he did say to me one day that he thought Sam was seeing someone . . .” Damn. Wine-mouth strikes again.

  Kate sits up straighter. “Seriously? Did he see her? Did he say anything about her?”

  “No, nothing, he was just gossiping. That’s what he does. So yes, I guess he could have sent the letter. How would he have your mother’s address though?”

  “I have no idea. God, it’s weird to think of these people I’ve never met knowing my business. Sam really is such a fuckwit.”

  Sylvia snorts the wine she’s trying to swallow and suddenly they’re both laughing, neither of them quite sure what’s so funny.

  Her phone beeps – Tom asking if she’s coming home soon or should he head on up to bed? She checks with Kate – will they have another one? Kate looks at the time – she’s paying a baby-sitter by the hour and had better go home actually. But it’s been great and they’ll do it again, she says.

  At the taxi rank outside, Kate asks her about work – did she catch Justin in the act yet? Not yet, she says.

  “Bloody hell, Sylvia, don’t be a wuss, just do it. Tomorrow, right? I want photographic evidence.”

  She hugs Sylvia goodbye and jumps in a cab.

  And Sylvia nods and waves and this time she knows she’ll do it.

  Chapter 41

  Sylvia – Saturday, September 3rd

  “You have arrived at your destination,” says Satnav’s plummy voice, as Sylvia drives past the narrow townhouse.

  Justin’s car is in the driveway and she can’t decide if she’s disappointed or not. There’s a perfect parking spot just opposite the house next door to his, removing her remaining excuse to turn for home. She takes a sip of water and wishes for the hundredth time today that she hadn’t had that last glass of wine.

  Now what? This is silly. Five minutes, and then she’s going home. Her phone is on her lap, ready for action, and there’s a newspaper on the passenger seat, in case she needs to hide her face. Now all she needs is a Cagney for her Lacey, and she’s all set. Seriously, this is ridiculous. Tom would be in fits laughing if he knew what she was doing. A manicure was an easier excuse for heading out – although as she looks at her short, unpretty nails, she wonders if she’ll need to go for an actual manicure now to make the story credible.

  Five slow minutes tick by, and there’s no movement inside or outside the house. All the curtains are open, so he’s not in bed, but that doesn’t mean much, and he could have a bedroom at the back of the house. A boy is dropping pizza leaflets in letterboxes, and he walks into Justin’s driveway too but walks back out without leaving one. Squinting, Sylvia can see the “NO JUNK MAIL” sticker on the letterbox. She’ll give it five more minutes, then she’s going, and never telling anyone she did this. Except Kate. Kate will get a laugh out of it. Picking up her phone, she takes a photo of the house, then messages it to Kate.

  Look what you’ve done to me – I’m outside Justin’s house – I’m like James Bond but lost in a parallel suburban universe.

  Kate’s reply is immediate.

  Ha – I love that you did it. Even if nothing happens, at least you know you can. Take back some of that power. Go, you!

  She’s about to reply, when the front door opens. It’s definitely Justin, and
he’s definitely not a pyjama-clad bedbound patient. He’s in a rugby jersey and shorts, and has a kitbag over his shoulder.

  Sylvia crouches down behind the steering wheel, wondering again what possessed her to do this. Scrabbling for her phone, she waits till his back is turned and gets photos of him locking his front door and putting the kitbag in the boot. She ducks down further as he reverses out of the driveway but gets some shots of him driving away, including his registration plate – because that seems like something that might be useful, though she’s not sure exactly how.

  Sitting up in the seat after he’s out of sight, she messages Kate to tell her she did it.

  The reply comes instantly:

  Result! Now, when are you going to confront him?

  That part she hasn’t thought about yet.

  Chapter 42

  Sylvia – Saturday, September 3rd

  The sound of the doorbell chime is loud and lonely behind the stained glass, echoing in an empty hall. Nothing stirs inside. The car is here, but maybe he’s gone back out for post-match drinks. It’s probably a good thing that he’s not here – this is a terrible, terrible idea. As Sylvia turns to leave, she feels more than sees the shadow behind the glass, and then the door is open and it’s too late to walk away.