I hear Nick’s breath expel. I keep my focus forwards.
‘Yes, she did mention it,’ he says. The exasperation in his voice tells me she did more than that. She likely bent his ear about it for some time.
‘Well, I went to Jo and Keeley’s to keep out of the way, as it was Sunday, and had the bright idea of watching through the SmartRing app.’
‘The one you installed when I left?’ It’s a simple statement, no malice intended – but the words are somehow tinged with blame. Or maybe it’s my guilt that makes them sound that way.
‘Yes, that one. Only I got a cheap version and didn’t bother paying for the subscription, so I can’t record. Anyway, I watched on my mobile and saw thirteen people go inside the house—’
‘Unlucky for some.’
I shoot him a look now – it’s no joking matter.
‘Sorry,’ he mutters. ‘Go on.’
‘Thirteen went in, but I only counted twelve leave again’ – I take a quick breath then carry on before he can say the inevitable line – ‘and no, I didn’t miscount.’ I don’t add the words ‘I don’t think I miscounted,’ because I need him not to doubt me.
‘And then what? You walked back home with the boys?’
‘Yes. I made sure I checked the house before letting the boys in, but no one was there.’
‘Obviously. Otherwise this would be a very different conversation.’ Nick shifts his weight from one leg to the other and stares ahead of him, a thoughtful look on his face. It’s now that Finley and Leo spot him and come haring across to us. Both of them launch into Nick, almost knocking him over.
‘Whoa, steady on, lads, you trying to kill your old man?’
‘You’re not old, Daddy.’ Leo laughs. ‘Nanna is old.’
‘Don’t let Nanna hear you say that, you cheeky monkey!’ Nick squeezes them both, holding them close for what feels like minutes.
‘Are you taking us out?’ Finley asks when Nick finally releases him from his bear hug.
‘Um …’ Nick looks to me and shrugs. ‘What do you think, Mummy?’
Nick’s asking my permission in fear of a repeat of last week, I’m sure.
‘Let’s just see, shall we?’
‘See what?’ Leo asks.
‘Well, if we have something exciting to eat at home, then Daddy can stay for tea and we can play some games – but if not, then yes, why not?’
I’m trying to hedge my bets with both options. Because if Nick finds some evidence someone has been, or worse, is still in the house, then we won’t be staying. If he doesn’t, then maybe I’ll have to accept I was wrong, and try to forget the whole thing.
‘Yay!’ Leo does a funny little dance around us.
‘Come on then,’ Nick says. ‘I’ll drive us back, then you stay in the car while we check if there’s anything good to eat and if not, we’ll head straight for …’
‘Maccies!’ both boys scream. The pinnacle of good, healthy, nutritious food. But I don’t argue. I haven’t the energy.
On the short drive home, while Finley and Leo chat excitedly in the back, I quietly tell Nick my further concerns: the fuse box, the moving furniture – and when he parks up outside the house, Nick makes me wait in the car, too. My entire body is tense as I keep my eyes glued to the front door.
‘How long’s he been now?’ I ask Finley, who’s been designated timekeeper.
‘Four minutes and twenty-three seconds,’ he states. He’s using the stopwatch on my mobile phone. I told him we’re playing a game to see how quick Daddy can be. But really, it’s for me to decide if Nick’s been in there too long and possibly attacked by the missing thirteenth viewer. When he said what he was doing, he didn’t mention how many minutes I should allow to pass before panicking, but I’m thinking if it takes him more than five to check the house, then it means there’s a problem.
‘Davina’s coming!’ Leo shouts. I can feel a vein in my head throb. Not now.
I hear a tap on the driver’s side window, but I don’t want to turn my attention away from my front door. Leo clambers over from the back seat and presses the button to lower the window.
‘Hey, kids. You off somewhere?’ she asks in an impossibly cheery voice, her tone rising its usual octave at the end of her question.
‘Maccies!’ Leo shouts.
I can’t see her face, but I feel the judgement oozing from her.
‘Are you all right, Amber?’
‘Yes, sorry – just watching for Nick to come out.’ I realise this sounds odd and is no reason to not look in her direction. Come on. Come on. What’s taking so long? I should go in and make sure all’s well. I unclip my seat belt.
‘Nick’s here?’ Davina asks.
‘Daddy’s coming out with us for tea,’ Leo tells her.
‘Oh, I see, well that’s nice for you. And Mummy.’ Her tone tells me she’s smiling.
I’m about to open the car door to go on inside the house myself, when Nick calmly walks out. His face isn’t showing any signs of worry, so I’m assuming he hasn’t found the thirteenth person lurking somewhere inside. Even the thought causes heat to flash in my cheeks. He’s definitely going to think I’m paranoid.
‘There’s plenty of food inside, so …’
‘Argh!’ Finley says, slamming my mobile down and flinging himself back against the rear seat.
Leo just bangs his fists onto his thighs and huffs.
‘So …’ Nick says, ‘let’s go to Maccies anyway.’
‘Yay!’ Leo scrambles back into his seat and buckles up.
‘Excuse me, please, Davina,’ Nick says, squeezing past her to get inside the car. ‘I’m on a mission.’
Davina gives a giggly, flirty laugh, tucking a strand of her mousy-brown hair behind one ear.
‘I bet you are,’ she says. ‘A strong, brave detective like yourself. Which reminds me, Nick – I wanted to ask you a question—’
‘We haven’t got time for questions, Davina,’ I snap. Maybe it’s the stress of the situation, or maybe it’s a weirdly unexpected jealous reaction, but the words are out before I can self-regulate.
‘Oh, er … of course … so sorry,’ Davina mumbles. ‘Well, it’s nice to see you again, Nick. Enjoy your burger.’
I can hear the hurt in her voice; I daren’t look at her. I wish I hadn’t been so abrasive.
‘That was mean,’ Leo says under his breath. Three whispered words that make me feel terrible as well as extremely embarrassed that my six-year-old has been the one to call me out on my rudeness. I lean across Nick so I can catch Davina’s eye – she’s ducked down, her elbows leaning on the wound-down window, a look of dismay on her reddened face. ‘Davina,’ I say. And the next words are difficult to form, but I know it’s something I should do to rectify the poor behaviour I’ve just exhibited in front of my boys. ‘Fancy a coffee after I finish work tomorrow?’
For a split second, I think Davina has frozen; she doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. Her hazel eyes are wide and staring. ‘Really?’ she finally responds. One word that she says in such a way that I feel like the worst person ever. The hope, excitement – and, I think, acceptance – is almost touching. She’s smiling like I’ve handed her the million-pound winning lottery ticket.
‘Yeah, it’ll be once I’ve picked the boys up …’
‘I would love to.’ She flashes us a wide grin and backs away from the car, all traces of her humiliation wiped clear.
I swear she’s still smiling even when we’re driving out of sight.
‘Well, haven’t you just made her day?’ Nick says, sarcastically.
‘It’s long overdue. Anyway, more to the point, tell me.’ I search his face for a hint of what he’s thinking.
‘Let’s talk more when we get home after Maccies,’ he says, before adding, ‘To yours.’
He’s making it sound as though there is something to talk about.
Did he find something?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Amber
It was a
s if the past year hadn’t happened. I found myself actually enjoying being out with Nick and the boys – even though it was just at a fast-food place. When we returned home, Nick volunteered to do the bedtime routine and, after the boys had changed into their pyjamas, all of us piled onto Leo’s bed. Now, Nick is reading a bedtime story. Even Finley is soaking this all up, despite him reading by himself these days. A warm glow of nostalgia builds inside me. In reality, this set-up had never once occurred when we were together. I always did the bedtime routine. Nick was either at work, or too tired from work, to do it. Somehow, now, in this moment, those facts melt away, and what’s important is the look of happiness, of love and contentment, on Finley and Leo’s faces. On Nick’s.
I have to make an excuse to leave the room before they notice I’ve tears in my eyes. Damn my emotions. I’ve done the right thing. I’ve done the best thing for the boys and for me. I couldn’t stay in an unhappy marriage; longer term, that would’ve been far more detrimental to the boys than us separating. And we were both unhappy come the end – there’d be no quick fix. Sometimes it’s better to look forward, not back; move on, rather than waste years attempting to mend what’s broken.
Barb’s voice in my head disagrees: You’ve made a mistake, Amber. I’ve been unable to bring myself to tell her about the difficulties – about how her son had put his family second, how her son’s attention had strayed to another woman. However frustrated she’s made me, I have managed to hold back. Save her feelings. Sometimes, I struggle. Sometimes I don’t think she deserves to be sheltered from the truth. Occasionally, I want to take her by her arms and shake her; tell her to wake up and realise her son is the one who made this happen.
But I don’t. For her sake, but probably more for Nick’s. Certainly not for my own. I have Richard now though, a new future ahead. No need to upset the apple cart any more than required.
‘It’s been lovely to see them, to be able to put them to bed. Thank you,’ Nick says as he joins me on the sofa twenty minutes later. He sits, somewhat awkwardly, at the far end.
I nod, gently. ‘It’s done them good.’ I’m careful to state it’s been good for the boys, not for me. But it has been good for me, too. There’s a comfort in what’s always been; in knowing someone and having shared memories with them. Of having a connection and a bond through the children. That doesn’t just stop because your marital relationship has. I suppose that’s why it’s often difficult to come out of a marriage and start over with someone new. You think it’ll be exciting, and yes, it is to a degree, but it’s also hard work. There are a million more complications when there are exes and someone else’s children involved too.
‘So?’ I ask. I’ve been both dying to hear, yet not wanting to, since he walked out of the house earlier saying we’d talk later. It feels as though a day has passed, not a few hours.
‘Soooo … nothing,’ he says, shrugging.
‘That’s it? Nothing? Haven’t you any more to add? You said we’d talk about it, so surely there’s something?’
He turns his body slightly towards me, placing both hands flat on his thighs. ‘I couldn’t see any obvious signs of someone having been here. Clearly, or I wouldn’t be letting you come back inside with my … our … boys.’
‘What about the weird thing with the fuse box?’ I swivel myself to face him too now, tucking one leg up beneath me. His expression still shows concern. But I’m beginning to think the concern is for me. As in, he’s worried about me and thinks I’ve lost the plot.
‘It could’ve been the fridge, like you thought—’
‘But it wouldn’t have tripped all the switches, Nick. You told me that before.’
‘You also said Finley and Leo had been looking for stuff yesterday and throwing things about under the stairs, maybe one of them did it?’
I swallow my rising frustration and take a deep breath before continuing. ‘Nick,’ I say, smiling, ‘if that had been the case, the power would’ve gone off there and then.’ I bite my tongue, because I really want to add duh at the end of that sentence, like the boys would do if they thought someone was being dumb.
There’s a silence now – although I can almost hear the charged static in the air. I’d been semi-prepared for being called paranoid, but I’m not accepting Nick’s attempt to write me off as stupid.
‘Okay. I admit, that was odd – but not an indication that someone was, or is, in the house. You said Carl has a key?’
‘Yes, I’ve tried getting it back, but he’s keeping hold of it and making every excuse as to why he’s not given it back to me yet.’
‘Well, for peace of mind – yours and mine – I’ll get a locksmith to change the locks. Better safe than sorry. But’ – he takes both of my hands in his – ‘there’s no one in the house now. I’m not going to lie – it doesn’t mean you were wrong and that someone wasn’t here at some point. I’m just confident no one’s hiding in your wardrobe at this moment.’ He smiles. It’s warm and kind – not a sarcastic, I-feel-sorry-for-you smile. ‘I even stuck my head into the loft. Just long-put-away boxed-up memories there,’ he says, his eyes lowering. He sighs, and then recovering, continues. ‘And I’d have a word with Carl to see if he moved stuff around – like the table you mentioned. Maybe, for some reason, he was the one who also flicked the switches.’
‘Why would he need to, Nick? I get the coffee table, that was simply measuring the space, I expect. But why touch the fuse box at all?’
‘Testing the electrics? If this bloke that Carl was showing around for the second viewing was serious about putting an offer in, I suspect Carl would’ve jumped through whatever hoops were put in front of him. You’ve been on at him long enough about zero progress … perhaps he was desperate to please.’
I relax again. That’s actually a good point. I could save myself some worry if I call Carl and ask him direct.
‘Would you call him?’ I gaze at Nick through my eyelashes – a coy, unnecessary action I’m immediately annoyed at myself for. But it works.
‘Sure. Give me his number.’ Nick gets up. ‘And I’ll call the locksmith straight after.’ He begins to dial Carl as he walks through the kitchen to the back door. I hear it click shut behind him. I sit on the sofa and wait. I’ve probably just made a big mistake.
‘Carl said things had been moved, but he couldn’t specifically remember what. And he’ll definitely drop the key back tomorrow after work,’ Nick says, returning to his position on the sofa. ‘But by then it won’t matter anyway as my guy’s coming over at ten in the morning to change the locks. I didn’t tell Carl that – I think it’s important he thinks you need the key back urgently. I want to know he’s handed it back to you and not keeping it for any dodgy reason. Because if he doesn’t come with it tomorrow you should fire his arse then report him to the Property Ombudsmen for negligence.’
I laugh. ‘Thanks. Although I can’t do tomorrow at ten – I’m at work.’
‘That’s fine. Mum won’t have anything better to do. She can sit here—’
‘Er …’ I hesitate. I’m being silly not trusting Barb; or maybe it’s stubbornness on my part. And it’s not as though she’s going to be able to get one of the new keys – they usually only leave two.
‘Okay, yes, that’s fine, thanks,’ I yield. ‘And thank you for bombing over here and checking the house …’
‘No worries. I don’t want you or the boys feeling unsafe, do I?’
Nick stays put on the sofa. I was assuming he’d leave now. I wonder if she’s at his flat, waiting for him. He hasn’t mentioned her for a long time – not since the night I found out, in fact. Maybe it’s his idea of being tactful. A knot grinds away in my gut. The hurt hasn’t vanished – it might not ever go completely. But I don’t want to appear ungrateful for him coming over at my whim, so the least I can do is offer him a drink.
‘Can I get you a cuppa?’
‘One of your hot chocs would be good,’ he says. He’s smiling like an excited child. ‘Gone are the days of vodka
and Jägermeister shots, eh?’ He laughs.
‘Oh, for sure. I’d be comatose after a few of those now.’
‘A few? That’s impressive. I don’t reckon I could sink one now without severe repercussions.’
Nick follows me out into the kitchen and leans on the worktop, watching me as I prepare the drinks.
‘How’s life in the cold?’ I ask, referring to his new role working the cold cases.
‘Okay, actually. I’m surviving. It’s not exactly adrenaline-inducing, but I’ve had a couple of successes, which is really satisfying.’
‘Oh, that’s great,’ I say, nodding. ‘Well done. Must be a good feeling to bring closure to the cases – and the families, of course.’
‘Yeah, that’s the best bit.’ He lowers his face for a moment, and I know what he’s thinking. I turn away from him, pour the milk into a jug and put it in the microwave. I let the silence between us stretch while the microwave hums – if he wants to talk about it, he will.
‘This current one isn’t progressing quite as well, though,’ Nick says.
‘No? How come?’
‘The new evidence isn’t as good as we initially hoped. Hit a few dead ends and I’m running out of places to look.’
‘That’s frustrating. But if there’s new evidence should the case not be reopened? I mean, rather than it being treated as a cold case still?’
‘Yeah, but when I say new evidence, unfortunately it’s not being classed as enough to warrant opening it up again. I need more.’
‘Well, don’t give up hope. You never know – you might unearth something else that links in with it. What’s the case?’
‘That’s the other thing, Amber. There’s something familiar about it. It reminds me of when Tim disappeared. It’s brought back a lot of memories. Some good, some less so.’
‘That’s bound to happen, Nick. Tim was your older brother – you idolised him, and both he and his disappearance were a huge part of your early life; it shaped you.’
‘Yeah, that’s true. It hit us all so hard. I don’t have clear memories of what Mum and Dad went through – my understanding was limited – but I know it ripped us apart. I felt so much hurt, anger, resentment – I do remember not knowing how to deal with it. I was a particularly angry teenager because of it all.’
The Open House Page 9