Page 10 of A Very Happy Halloween

“Okay, black it is.”

By the time it began to get dark, Harry had sanded away all the gloss, and I’d given in and helped to pick red spots off the stone floor of the porch. Chip didn’t grace us with his presence, so quality control was down to me, and I helped out with the top part of the door that Harry was too short to reach.

I sent Chip a message.

Me

Everything is sanded, and we’re going to varnish the bench and undercoat the door tomorrow. But I think we’ll have to come back for the gloss.

He replied almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting. Watching. That strange current of energy that had been running through me all day ratcheted up a notch.

Chip

Next weekend is fine.

Me

The boys are with their dad next weekend, so it’ll have to be the weekend after or an evening.

A long pause.

Chip

Does that mean you’re not with their dad?

Why would he ask that? Was he planning to murder us all and checking whether we’d be missed? Or was he just silently judging like so many others? Last week, one of the mums at school had told me boys needed a man in their life to stop them from going off the rails.

Me

We’re talking about the door.

Chip

The weekend after or an evening is fine. Just let me know what you decide and I’ll leave the stuff out.

Me

The weekend after. The boys have school during the week, plus my sister is coming over.

There. Now he knew someone would look for our bodies. My life might be officially in the crapper, but I still had my family.

His next message didn’t arrive until late in the evening, after I’d fed the boys, after I’d hung up the laundry, after I’d checked the weather forecast and made sure the buckets were in place.

Chip

Sleep well, Janie.

Sleep well? What was that supposed to mean? Was it merely a friendly text from a man who wasn’t a friend? Or was it a veiled threat? Honestly, both options creeped me out. It was definitely inappropriate.

Sleep well?

I barely slept at all that night.

Six

It was Sunday when everything fell apart.

Sunday when I decided to help Harry with the painting because the drying time for the undercoat was four hours, and if we pushed on, we could get the gloss done as well. Then we wouldn’t have to spend any extra time around Chip, and I could block his number if he sent me another weird “goodnight” message.

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