The Open House

by Sam Carrington

  I’m about to walk off, when Miss Emery tugs my arm to prevent me leaving. I turn to face her.

  ‘Who is your estate agent? If you don’t mind me asking.’

  I don’t mind her asking, although it strikes me as a strange thing to ask at this time. ‘Move Horizon. Are you looking for a house to buy in Stockwood?’

  Miss Emery’s face loses its colour. ‘Oh … er … no. I’m not; not right now.’ She seems to come to a stuttering halt, and I think she’s about to walk away. But then she continues. ‘So, that’s Carl Anderson, then?’

  I’m taken aback. ‘It is. Why?’

  ‘Oh, just curious,’ she says and gives what appears to be a very forced smile. ‘I’ll let you get on. Do let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with Leo. Always best to attack these things from both sides, don’t you think?’ She turns her back and disappears inside without waiting for my response. I’m left with a disconcerting feeling.

  The man in the house.

  Carl Anderson.

  Are the two linked?

  I’d had my suspicions about Carl – but only in that he might have lost my key or allowed Barb to use it. The latter being most likely given Barb’s visit to his office. With Davina’s account of him taking the same people to the house on numerous occasions and now Miss Emery’s odd reaction to finding out Carl’s my estate agent, my suspicions are mounting. I definitely saw Carl leave the house on the day of the open house event.

  But that doesn’t mean he didn’t let himself back in again.

  Gooseflesh shoots up my arms.

  I look back to the classroom. I can see Miss Emery flitting about inside, tidying up. Should I go back in and ask her why she reacted the way she did when I told her the estate agent I was using? She was the one who questioned me; I’ve every right to ask why she wanted to know.

  ‘Come on, Muuuum!’ I hear Finley and Leo shout in unison. ‘We’re bored.’

  ‘Can you wait just one more minute?’ I call.

  ‘Awww … Noooooo.’

  They have waited for ages in child-time. I begin to walk towards them. My question can wait until I drop them off tomorrow morning.

  In my heart, I know I’m putting it off.

  I realise I’m afraid to learn Miss Emery’s reason.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Amber

  ‘Can this day get any more stressful?’ I mutter as I drive into the cul-de-sac, turning right onto our road.

  ‘What, Mummy?’ Leo says.

  ‘Nothing.’ I plaster a smile on my face and declare brightly: ‘Nanna’s here!’

  Barb is sitting on the front doorstep, a small, box-shaped parcel on her lap. I am so tired I can do without having to speak to her. In fact, until I figure out quite what she’s up to, I’ve no desire to see her. But here she is. Uninvited. Waiting.

  I inwardly groan. I’m so not in the mood for this.

  ‘Hi, Barb,’ I say as I reach her. The boys pile on to her. ‘Careful, boys – you’ll break her.’ There’s no conviction in my warning. ‘You didn’t mention you were coming over?’ I smile, sidling past her to get to the door and pop the key in the lock.

  ‘I thought I’d surprise you all. Although I must say, I didn’t expect to be waiting for so long. What took you?’

  My agitation level increases twofold in a millisecond.

  ‘She was talking to Miss Emery about me,’ Leo says before I can speak.

  ‘Oh?’ Barb pulls herself up and walks in behind me. ‘Something wrong?’ She follows me into the kitchen.

  ‘No, she wanted a catch-up, that’s all,’ I say. The lie comes easily. I don’t want to give Barb any further ammunition. Any mention of Leo suffering with nightmares about the man in the house – and she’ll pounce on it; tell me the untold damage I’m doing to her darling grandsons, how the only way of ensuring they grow up mentally unharmed is to allow Nick back in the house and return to being one big happy family.

  Only, I wasn’t happy. And getting back with Nick now would be the worst thing to do. I’m not cruel enough to tell Barb this.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ I ask politely.

  ‘Yes, I’ve brought a new cup and saucer.’ Barb presents me with the parcel she’d had on her lap. I want to laugh. A hysterical laugh. But I might not be able to ever stop again.

  ‘Oh, great. Thanks.’

  I open the box.

  World’s Greatest Nanna.

  I’m not entirely confident my sigh was only inside my head, but I look at Barb and she’s smiling, so I guess it must’ve been. Now she’s here, I should take the opportunity to do some delving. I half hope Davina knocks on the door. I’d be intrigued to see how Barb would handle that situation.

  ‘What have you done with your day?’ I wash Barb’s new cup with hot, soapy water as I talk.

  ‘Oh, this and that, love. My days aren’t exactly filled with events – only the odd coffee morning, and monthly WI meetings, of course.’

  ‘Ah, so you’ve been stuck at home all day?’ I want her to dig herself a hole. But she sidesteps the question.

  ‘You haven’t mentioned that you’ve seen Richard for a while. Is it all going south?’ She gives a sympathetic smile. Clearly fake. ‘I expect it’s hard to keep up the momentum when you’re so far away from each other. And beginning relationships purely online must be such hard work. It’s not as though you’ve much to go on, is it? You never really know what you’re getting.’

  I’m not in the mood for mind games. Or not Barb’s anyway. Thankfully the boys choose this moment to pile in.

  ‘Nanna, come and play. We’ve got a cool board game. You’ll love it.’ Leo pulls at Barb’s arm.

  ‘In a minute, boys. Give me some time with your mum, eh?’

  ‘Five minutes.’ Leo turns his wrist to look at his pretend watch. ‘That’s all you have then you have to come play.’

  ‘Here, boys,’ I say, handing each a packet of Maltesers I’ve just bought.

  ‘Aw, thanks, Mum!’ they say before running into the lounge.

  ‘I’d have thought you’d seize the opportunity to play with the boys, Barb,’ I say when they’re out of earshot. ‘You know … seeing as you’ve apparently not got long with them.’ I can’t help myself. It grates that she uses the boys as a way of making me feel guilty, and only really wants them when it suits her.

  ‘And I will play with them. I want to grasp every moment. I only wanted to catch up with you first.’ She smiles and takes a sip of her tea. ‘So? Tell me, Amber, when do I get to meet this enigmatic Richard?’

  Sometime never.

  I haven’t ever described him as enigmatic to Barb; I can’t imagine where she’s picked that up from. ‘Oh, a while, I expect, Barb. He’s ever so patient – and he wants to ensure both Nick and you are ready to move forwards before he meets you both.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s his reason? Not a cop-out is it?’

  ‘No, Barb. It’s not. He’s also got an ex, so he completely understands the requirement for being … respectful. And treading carefully. He doesn’t want the boys to feel their father is being replaced—’

  ‘I should jolly well hope not! Nick is the most important man in their lives, no … no … online stranger is going to take his place.’ The force of Barb’s words have turned her face a shade of beetroot red. I’ve clearly hit a nerve.

  ‘As I say, Richard is very thoughtful. Don’t worry, Barb, he’s in no way a substitute for your son.’

  As I say this, my own face flushes with the realisation of its meaning. I’m basically saying Richard isn’t replacing Nick in my eyes either. I’ve unintentionally given Barb something to support her case. She doesn’t jump on it, though, as I expect her to. She sits, silently staring at her tea, a melancholy, faraway look on her face.

  I suddenly feel sorry for her. I didn’t intend to break the family up, and I don’t suppose Nick did either – despite his actions suggesting otherwise. We never meant to cause distress to Barb. She can be exasperating, yes.
And I now know her to be sneaky as well. But she loves her family; would do anything to make them happy. I’d do the same. We’re both just mothers, doing what we think is best for our children.

  I get up and walk to Barb’s side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze. ‘I’ll do my best, you know, Barb. For the boys’ sake, I’ll make sure I don’t fuck this up.’

  Barb stiffens. My choice of language wasn’t to her liking. But I don’t let her go, and soon her muscles relax under my arm.

  ‘It hurts me so much when Nick hurts. And he is hurting, Amber. However he might appear to you – he’s holding it all in, you see. It’s a trait of his; he’s always done it. But after Tim, then his dad, it got worse. He let things build up and build up. Until there was no room for all the things worrying him in his body anymore. Then, they exploded out of him like an erupting volcano,’ Barb says with a sad smile. ‘But he has never hurt a soul. He’d hurt himself before inflicting any pain on someone else.’

  I let Barb talk on. She’s right, on the whole.

  But a man doesn’t show his mother everything. After all, Barb was all Nick had. His biggest supporter, his confidante. He wouldn’t want her to know every side of him. What lay beneath the surface. Because that would ruin her perfect vision of her son.

  And now, I can’t ruin it either.

  ‘He’s a good man, Barb. A good father, too. But we just don’t fit together anymore.’

  ‘I disagree,’ she says, wriggling free of my arm. ‘And I don’t want you to leave this house.’

  Barb gets up and joins the squealing boys in the lounge, leaving me in little doubt she’s my saboteur.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Barb

  I’m not getting a particularly strong vibe of confidence from Amber about Richard. I’m sure I could introduce more doubt and make her think again about her decision to sell up and leave. I’ve been working from one side – in putting prospective buyers off where possible – and now I need to chip away at Amber’s perception of this “new life” with a man she barely knows and make sure to put her off him. Without meeting the man, I realise this won’t be easy. Nick said he’s had a colleague look into Richard, but I don’t know how thorough that was. I also have to consider the fact Nick was telling me that just to get me off his back.

  Leo shouts so close to my ear I can hear a high-pitched ringing.

  ‘It’s your turn!’ he yells.

  My mind was elsewhere. I’ve not been playing this game properly from the off. I’ve too much planning to do. ‘Sorry, I don’t think Nanna is very good at this game.’

  ‘You just need to consencrate, Nanna,’ he says, putting a hand on mine. Bless him. He is so similar to Tim. Tim used to muddle his words too. I close my eyes for a moment, remembering our last conversation – the anger and hurt in his voice. The fear.

  ‘Don’t cry, Nanna, it’s difficult to get the hang of it at first, but with practice …’ Finley says. I catch the tears with my fingertips. I hadn’t realised I was crying until he said.

  ‘I’m a silly Nanna, aren’t I?’ I say, getting up. ‘I’ll just pop to the bathroom; you two carry on without me.’

  Amber is still in the kitchen. I tread the stairs quietly and turn right at the top. I sneak into Amber’s room. I hope Richard hasn’t been in their bed, Nick’s bed. I shudder at the thought. She’s decorated it since Nick left. The walls are no longer the pretty purple tones; now she has one wallpapered – a garish green retro print that seems to be popular again these days – and the other walls are painted grey. I don’t like it; it’s cold. No personality. Much the same as the rest of the house, if I’m being honest. I’ll never understand why Amber felt the need to completely redecorate the entire house the second she moved in. All my lovely floral décor, gone within days – as if she were trying to erase all memory of me. Dreadful shame. It’d taken me so long to get my home just as I liked it after Bern died, too. I try not to dwell now; the anxiety is swelling in my tummy.

  I scrutinise the rest of the room, taking note of the framed pictures hanging in a line directly opposite the bed. One of them gives me pause.

  It’s mine.

  I’m certain it is, despite the frame looking different to the original. But I’d got rid of it. Where did she get it? I suppose it could be a coincidence – she might’ve found an identical print from a charity shop. As I stare at it, though, I know it’s the same one. A lump forms in my throat. I’d put it in one of the old boxes of things I was going to burn. Did I leave it in the shed and forget?

  ‘Barb? What are you doing?’

  ‘Goodness, Amber.’ I place my hand on my chest. ‘You gave me a scare.’

  ‘And?’ she says. She can be quite curt; rude even, at times.

  ‘I’m sorry, I was … well, just looking around as if I were a prospective buyer. I was doing you a favour – looking at it from their eyes. There’s a reason it’s not selling, dear. And I must say, Amber, this décor may well be putting some people off.’

  ‘It’s just superficial, Barb. No one will not buy a house because of its wallpaper.’

  ‘Well, you never know.’ I walk past her, brushing up against her as I manoeuvre past the bed to make my exit. ‘It’s worth thinking about.’

  I think I got away with being in her room nosing around.

  ‘Any other tips from the queen of interior design?’ she asks.

  ‘No need for sarcasm, dear. I’m only trying to help. Oh, and that picture – the one with the boy holding a kitten – where did you get it?’

  Amber squints and then moves so she’s standing in front of it. ‘I’m not sure where it came from, actually – it was just here one day. Leaning up against the back door. I assumed one of the boys had been rummaging in the old shed …’

  ‘I thought Nick always kept it padlocked?’

  ‘Yeah, well … like I say, I’m not sure. But I liked it, it reminded me of Finley a bit, so I thought I’d hang it up. The original glass was cracked, so I had to replace that, but the frame was sturdy enough; I painted it, so it matched the others.’

  ‘Right …’ I say. It is mine, then.

  I’m going to have to find a way to get rid of that.

  Again.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Amber

  I haven’t stopped thinking about the boy-and-kitten picture since finding Barb in my bedroom staring at it and then having the gall to question me about how I got it. After my initial annoyance at her walking into my room, I must admit, the picture also bothered me because when I thought about it, it was weird how it just seemed to appear inside the house. I’d asked the boys at the time and have a blurry memory of them saying they’d found it in the shed. But I’m not so sure that was the case. Barb’s right: the shed is padlocked. And I checked it as soon as she left. It’s intact.

  My mind is still filled with doubt as I walk Finley and Leo to school.

  ‘Do you know the picture of the boy and kitten in Mummy’s bedroom?’ I ask them.

  ‘My picture?’ Finley asks.

  ‘The one I say looks like you, yes. Well, I can’t remember where you found it. Can you?’

  Finley shrugs.

  ‘It was in the kitchen, behind the door,’ Leo says.

  ‘Yes, that’s where you put it. But where did you get it from?’

  He frowns and stops walking, putting his thumb and finger to his chin. ‘Let me think,’ he says. I laugh; he’s such a funny little character. Then, he shakes his head and walks on. ‘I can’t think. Finley must’ve found it.’

  ‘No, I didn’t!’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. I was only curious – it’s not a big deal. I hoped you’d remember, that’s all,’ I say, taking Leo’s hand and squeezing it. ‘It was almost a year ago – I can’t expect you to remember that far back when I can barely remember yesterday.’

  Leo and Finley nod their agreement. We walk on in silence.

  ‘Maybe Nanna put it there?’ Finley says as we reach th
e school gate.

  ‘I don’t think so, darling. She was the one who asked me about it. She said it used to be hers and she’d put it in the shed before we moved in.’

  ‘Oh, okay. We’ve never been in the shed, I promise. Dad said never to go in there as there were old tools and stuff of Grandad’s and it was dangerous. He said that’s why it’s got a lock on it.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right, love.’

  ‘So how could we have got the picture from in there, then?’ Finley says.

  I smile. ‘You couldn’t have, could you. Silly me. I’d forgotten about the lock Daddy put on it.’

  That’s another mystery to add to the ever-growing list then. Who did bring that picture into the house? Until yesterday, I hadn’t even checked the padlock on the shed, though. There’s nothing to say it’s the original one Nick fitted. And someone with a key could’ve simply walked in, got the picture, then locked up behind themselves. I don’t think the boys would’ve done that.

  I’ll have to ask Nick about it. Something else I’ll have to go to him for.

  Once we’re within sight of Finley’s mates, he jets off. I shout goodbye after him and walk with Leo to his end of the school. I need to brave it and ask Miss Emery why she reacted the way she did when I told her my estate agent was Carl Anderson. I follow Leo into the building, watch him hang his coat on his peg and then walk behind him into his classroom. There’s no sign of Miss Emery. I hear a male voice I don’t recognise saying good morning to the children as they file into the classroom. I smile and head towards him.

  ‘Morning. Where’s Miss Emery?’

  ‘She hasn’t made it in today, unfortunately,’ he says.

  ‘Oh, is she sick?’

  ‘Not sure, we’re presuming so. We haven’t actually heard from her yet. I was here anyway, so I’m standing in for her.’ He gives me a wide grin, and tells me he’s Mr Welland, a supply teacher.

  Typical. I should’ve gone back into the classroom yesterday and asked Miss Emery there and then. Now I’m going to have to wait to find out. It was probably nothing. And thinking about it, maybe she was pale because she was sickening from something.