The Open House

by Sam Carrington

  I couldn’t stop the inevitable outcome, couldn’t prevent the hurt. No one could come out totally unscathed, but for some, the possible recriminations were far worse than for others.

  For a few, it would be catastrophic.

  Of course, once that became obvious, I’d wanted it all to miss me. I tried hard to divert it. Then something else occurred: an uninvited, unexpected twist to the tale. And things took another turn …

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Amber

  Richard is a little jittery. He hurries me into the restaurant and as we approach our table, sits down first, his back to the other diners.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I ask as I shuffle along the bench-type seat that runs along the river-facing window.

  ‘Yes. Course.’ He takes a menu and opens it. His face is now blocked from my view. I take the other one and begin browsing. I already know what I want, though, as I checked the online menu when I booked the table. I like to be prepared.

  ‘I don’t even know the types of food you like,’ I say. It’s a sudden thought, and strange in a way. We’d been chatting for months before we met in person, and had covered every subject under the sun, or that’s how it felt. But I guess the everyday, more mundane things, like food, didn’t seem to matter as much as the bigger, deep and meaningful conversation about life, politics, the state of the world, what had gone on in the news. Music and books were always our go-to discussions. But never food. And while we’ve eaten takeaways, I’d always ordered from the same Chinese Nick used. I never queried it and hadn’t really thought about the fact Richard ordered the same chicken curry dish each time. I don’t remember ever asking him if he’d prefer Indian, or Italian.

  And now I’m scrutinising this, I realise that even when we’d been in a hotel, Richard ordered room service – usually whatever I wanted. For some reason, right at this moment, I feel this is telling. I do, however, remember he enjoys red wine. Which I can’t stand. At least that’s something I know about him. I should make more of an effort to find out everything I can about him. I’m going to be living with him, after all.

  ‘I’m a fussy eater, actually. That’s one of the reasons I don’t go out to eat much.’ He finally rests his menu down in front of him so I can see his face. ‘The other being … well, I’m a bit agoraphobic. Being in public places makes me highly anxious.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say that?’ I feel appalled he’s kept this to himself. ‘I thought you just didn’t want to go out with me.’

  ‘No, I love being with you, silly. But inside, rather than out in the open. With people everywhere.’ He gives a wary look around him and visibly shudders.

  ‘I’m sorry, Richard. Did you have a bad experience?’

  ‘Nothing specific, I don’t think.’ He shrugs. ‘Didn’t start feeling like this until I was in my late teens. I manage, mostly. By avoidance.’ He laughs.

  ‘If you want to go …’

  ‘No, it’s good for me to go out of my comfort zone. Sometimes. Let’s not make it a weekly thing, though, eh?’

  A wonderful, warm feeling bubbles inside me. Earlier, and even just now, he’d given me cause for concern. A reason to doubt him; us. I thought Barb was going to end up being right. But he’s flawed, that’s all. Human; trying to muddle his way through life the best he can, just like everyone else.

  I love him. And I really do want to be with him. But the thought of uprooting to go to Eastbourne, even if it’s a step closer, isn’t the right decision for me and the boys. What this evening has cemented is my determination to get to the bottom of the saboteurs and put a stop to them. I want the house sold.

  I’m even beginning to come around to the possibility of selling to the developers. Whatever it takes, I want out.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Barb

  I can’t settle.

  I’m flitting from one task to the next, not finishing a single one of them. My mind is hopping from one thought to another; there’s no coherence. I feel as though I have too many balls up in the air at once. I can’t afford to become confused, so I need to make a plan. Give myself targets, goals to achieve. This week has been very stressful. I don’t need it. Not with my high blood pressure. I’d hoped I’d left all the worries behind me long ago, but now things are threatening to overwhelm me.

  It’s strange how as I’ve been getting older, I’ve begun focusing on the more inconsequential things in life. I remember I used to get irritated at my mother’s petty worries – how she’d obsess over little things like the paperboy failing to deliver her newspaper one day and it was like the end of the world. She’d go on and on about it for days, fussing over each minute detail of the omission and who was to blame. Yet, up until recently, it could be argued I was doing the same.

  Maybe I should be grateful to Amber for giving me something bigger to worry about. A real problem; one with meaning. With real consequences that will affect me. Will affect others, too. I open my notebook and begin scribbling. They’re merely random thoughts – questions and ideas at the moment – but I’ll arrange them into a sequential list of things to do. I need to be clever about it. Think of all the possible solutions and their outcomes.

  I wish I had someone else to help – someone to bounce my ideas off. I feel quite lonely. I’ve had words with Carl, of course, but, ultimately, he’s got a different agenda. When I confronted him the other day, his expression told me all I needed to know. I was right about him. I can use him. But he’s not to be fully trusted.

  That man is selfish. His only concern is for himself.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Amber

  I’m using my lunch break to research other estate agents. There are several online ones, but they’re no good as I’d need to conduct the viewings myself, which would mean limiting the times to after work. The other local agencies are mostly ones I’d already approached the first time and decided against for one reason or another. Frustration and exhaustion crash down on me. Me and Nick had rented when we first got together, and because of Barb’s offer of buying the family home, I’ve never had to go through this tedious process before.

  Richard’s back-up plan is looking more appealing. I’d shut the idea down because I couldn’t bear to think of the upheaval moving twice would cause me and the boys. But maybe I was too hasty. Going to Eastbourne would leave Nick free to move back into the house and he can be the one to try to sell the bloody thing. I should let him deal with it all. Despite it not being part of our separation agreement, it would certainly take the pressure off me. Surely, he’d at least consider it under the circumstances. Before I change my mind, I send him a text.

  Hi Nick, are you able to pop around tonight please and discuss the house? I’ve been thinking hard about the situation and as it’s taking so long, I have a proposition for you. Let me know if you’re free. Amber x

  My hands are clammy. What about the fact this place in Eastbourne is only temporary? Richard’s friend will come back after a year – and I’m sure that year will fly by. Then what? If mine or Richard’s houses still haven’t sold, that leaves me and the boys up the proverbial creek.

  ‘Whatever is the matter, Amber?’ Olive’s voice penetrates my thoughts. ‘You look like a madwoman, rocking back and forth.’

  I hadn’t realised I was doing that. I’ve got my head in my hands and I am rocking in my chair.

  ‘I think I’m losing the plot, Olive. My head’s filled with unhelpful thoughts, reasons I should stay, reasons I should go. I was so certain I knew what I wanted. Now … why am I questioning everything?’ I choke back tears.

  ‘They don’t say moving house is the most stressful life event for nothing, you know? And you’re not only doing that, but you’re divorcing too. That’s two major things going on for you. Then there’s changing jobs …’ She gives me a sad smile.

  ‘God. You’re right, I know. It’s all happening at once for me. I suppose I wasn’t going to make it through without losing some of my hair – or my marbles �
� was I?’ I try to laugh, but my throat constricts, trapping the sound in my voice box. Olive makes a very good point. All this time I’ve been attempting to muddle through, keeping a brave face, making the decisions that I felt were the right ones, and with no regard to the psychological aspect – the impact this would all have on me. I thought I had everything figured out – my future mapped out ahead of me.

  ‘I think you need to slow down. It might be a good thing the house hasn’t sold, Amber. I’m not sure you’re actually ready …’

  Olive’s remark irks me. Deep down, though, perhaps she’s right. A year isn’t that long. I’ve had the initial shock of a broken marriage to contend with, followed, quite quickly, by a new relationship – a long-distance one at that – and a house going on the market. My paranoia about the thirteenth viewer, my suspicion of Barb somehow sabotaging the sale, Carl being dodgy, the strange goings-on in the house – what if it’s all in my mind?

  All brought on by the stress?

  I suddenly feel unsure about everything.

  ‘I’ll take a step back,’ I tell Olive. ‘Work out what I really want.’

  ‘Why don’t you take the week’s annual leave you’re due? Relax. Do something for you.’

  ‘But I was saving the week up in case I needed it for the move.’ I take a deep breath. Is there a point in saving it? Taking it now would be more beneficial to me right at this moment.

  ‘Honestly, Amber, I’ll work something out with Henry when that eventuality arises: don’t worry. Take the time now. Please. I’m worried about you.’ Olive places her hand over mine. Fat tears drop onto it.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, wiping them off with my sleeve cuff.

  ‘Don’t be.’

  I can’t believe I’m crying in front of my boss. How embarrassing.

  My phone pings. I make an excuse to go to the bathroom to sort myself out, then read Nick’s response.

  I’m working until at least 8 but can come over after if you’re OK with that? N x

  I reply straight away.

  That’s fine. See you then.

  At least the boys will be in bed at that time, so I’ll be able to talk to him uninterrupted. I’m no longer sure the conversation I was planning to have about him moving back and me going to Eastbourne is the one I’m going to have. For the moment, I don’t know what I want. Hopefully, seeing Nick later will somehow help me decide.

  I’m either going to please Barb no end and break Richard’s heart, or, stick to the plan to try to make a new life for myself and the boys, and break Barb’s. Maybe Nick’s too. I did the pros and cons when I first made the decision. But that was before the events of this past month. Now, everything’s different.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Amber

  ‘Leo’s been absolutely fine, Mrs Miller,’ Mr Welland says as soon as the children are out. Miss Emery is still off work, which is annoying. ‘He’s been bright as a button, no episodes of falling asleep. In fact, he’s been quite hyperactive!’

  ‘Do you mean disruptive?’ I ask, cautiously.

  Mr Welland throws his head back and laughs. I gaze around to see if the other parents are looking; his laugh is so loud. ‘Oh dear, you’re quite the worrier, aren’t you?’

  My muscles contract. How condescending does he want to be? ‘Miss Emery was the one who brought Leo’s behaviour to my attention, not the other way around. She made me feel as though there was something to worry about,’ I say. I hope he catches the offence I’ve taken by his comment in my tone.

  ‘I think Miss Emery has been having her own … um … problems to contend with lately. Maybe she over-reacted a little. Or it was merely a bump in the road for Leo and he’s over it now.’ He smiles. I’m unsure what to say in response. It’s quite unprofessional mentioning another teacher’s issues. And as a supply teacher, what does he know anyway?

  ‘Oh, really? I was under the impression Miss Emery was sick. You said on Friday that you were a supply teacher who happened to be here in time to take her class; I didn’t realise you knew her.’

  ‘Sorry, I’ve spoken out of turn. I’ve been a supply for Stockwood a number of times and, well … staffroom chat …’

  ‘Gossip, you mean? Perhaps you shouldn’t be repeating it to a parent?’

  ‘As I say, I’m sorry. I was trying to put your mind at ease about Leo. I shouldn’t have brought Miss Emery’s private life into it.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t. But, now that you have, what did you mean?’

  Mr Welland begins to walk away without answering. I go after him.

  ‘She was acting very strangely the other afternoon,’ I say, ‘asking me about …’ I don’t want to be specific, I’m not sure I should tell this man about Carl. I pause while trying to think up something relevant. Mr Welland turns back to face me.

  ‘Sorry. I’ve already said too much. Probably best to wait for Miss Emery’s return to work and speak with her yourself.’

  He disappears back into the school.

  ‘What was Miss Emery asking?’ A voice behind me gives me a start. There’d been no one around when I looked a minute ago. I turn to face the woman. It’s Callum’s mum, Yolande. I’ve never spoken to her – she’s in a different clique. One I’ve never been able to, nor wanted to, penetrate.

  I can’t think of anything to say off the top of my head. Oh well, in for a penny … ‘Miss Emery asked me who my estate agent was. And when I told her, she had a really odd reaction,’ I say.

  Yolande frowns, hard lines cutting across her forehead. She obviously frowns a lot.

  ‘Who’s your estate agent, Amber?’ Her face darkens. Mine must too. What is going on here?

  I swallow hard. ‘Carl Anderson, of Move Horizon.’

  I await a similar response from her to the one Miss Emery gave, but instead, she takes my arm and pulls me closer. ‘Between you and me,’ she whispers, ‘Carl Anderson is the cause of Miss Emery’s recent problems.’

  My insides twist. ‘Oh, really? How so?’

  ‘I shouldn’t really say, she’s trusting me not to speak about it …’

  ‘Go on. It’s clearly important or you wouldn’t be breaking confidence by saying this much.’

  She gives an elaborate wave of her hand as though to dismiss me. Then sighs dramatically. I wonder if she catches my eye-roll.

  ‘Carl’s married,’ she says, finally. ‘He’s also much older, like, fifty-something. And yet neither of those things stopped him from relentlessly pursuing Miss Emery.’

  ‘He’s only in his forties, actually …’ I say, but realise that’s not the point. ‘Pursuing her? As in—’

  ‘Yes. And he led her on, saw her week after week, making her promise not to tell a soul. Then, unfortunately for Paula—Miss Emery, he lost interest and moved on to his next conquest. She was distraught.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘Because I was the one who walked in on them.’

  ‘At school?’ Now my shock is audible. I turn around and check to see that Leo and Finley are still at the top of the field.

  ‘No, no.’ Yolande shakes her head. ‘That’s not his style. I walked in on them in my own house!’

  ‘I – I don’t understand.’

  ‘My house was on the market with Move Horizon last year. Carl Anderson was showing Miss Emery around and I found them kissing. In my bedroom! I mean, they parted quickly and pretended nothing was happening, but it was obvious from her embarrassment. Anyway, she caught me after school the next day to apologise.’

  ‘Wow, I’m shocked. What did you do?’

  Yolande’s eyes widen. ‘Well, I wanted to make a fuss about it, if I’m honest. Hardly professional, is it? But, Paula begged me not to say anything. It seems it wasn’t a one-off, they were having an affair. By all accounts she really fell for the creep. She didn’t want it all to come out, for obvious reasons; didn’t want her career to be affected, either. So, naturally, I kept quiet.’

  Naturally? She’s not at all bothered now, seeing as
she’s told me about it. And, I’m assuming, half the playground mums.

  ‘Did your house sell?’

  Yolande looks confused. She’s probably wondering why that’s what I’m curious about. ‘I took it off the market – obviously, Amber – as I’m still here.’ She gives an irritating giggle.

  ‘Oh, right. I didn’t know if you’d merely moved to a bigger house in Stockwood,’ I say, making sure I accentuate “bigger”. She glares at me, but says nothing. ‘As you said that Carl is the cause of Miss Emery’s problems, am I to assume this affair is now over? Did Carl’s wife find out?’

  ‘It’s over, I know that. But as far as I can tell, Carl’s wife is none the wiser.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  ‘I told you, I didn’t tell anyone. Apart from you, now.’

  ‘I’m not saying you did. But surely other people know? Can’t get away with much in this village. So many gossips.’

  ‘Yes, but they live just outside the village; his wife doesn’t move in the same circles.’

  I tell Yolande I have to go, as the boys are becoming impatient waiting by the field for me; they’ve begun to roll around on the grass. I file this new piece of information about Carl away. I might try to visit Davina in a minute – see what she has to say about it, if she doesn’t already know, that is.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Amber

  There’s no answer at Davina’s, which is surprising for this time of the day. I’m disappointed, as I wanted to report my new information to her immediately and find out if she already knew. I go to the front window, cup my hands either side of my face and peer inside, in case she hasn’t heard me knocking. Movement catches my eye: a dark figure shifting quickly to the right. I look back to the front door, which remains stubbornly closed.

  I wonder if it was Wayne, but dismiss this possibility as surely he’d have answered the door. Which leaves me to conclude it’s Davina, and she’s avoiding me. I turn sharply and walk away. This must be how Davina felt all the months I did this to her. Karma. What have I done to warrant this, though?