Page 11 of The Psychopath Next Door

They were out the front now, with their dad, a big bloke with a shiny head and inflated muscles that were on the verge of turning to fat. The three of them were standing around the dirt bike, and although she couldn’t hear him through the double glazing, he looked angry, like he was admonishing his sons. The younger one, Eric, hung his head, while Albie waved his arms like he was arguing back, which made the dad go even redder in the face.

Fiona glanced sideways at Rose, trying to read her reaction. Two days had passed since the incident in the fields, and Fiona wondered if Rose’s anger had dissipated. It didn’t appear to have. Her gaze was still intense, and there was something else. Anticipation – the hope that Albie and Eric were about to get torn a new one by their dad. But then the dad laughed, and he ruffled Eric’s hair.

The anticipation on Rose’s face turned to disappointment. Fiona could see the tension in her body, her desire for the boys to be punished unfulfilled, like a sneeze that wouldn’t come. Fiona watched as Rose walked over to one of her Barbies – a dark-haired variant who had been left out of the trunk – and stepped on it, slowly and deliberately, pressing down with all her strength and scrunching up her face as she did so. Then she exhaled, apparently feeling better.

Fiona knew exactly how Rose felt. Understood the release Rose would have experienced as she stomped on her doll. It filled Fiona with exhilaration.

They went downstairs and, not long after, the doorbell rang. The pizzas were here. Fiona opened the door. From across the street, the teenage morons and their dad looked over at her while the driver handed over the pizzas. He stood there for a moment, clearly waiting for a tip. Fiona closed the door in his face.

‘Bitch,’ he said, the word muffled but unmistakable.

Immediately, anger surged through her and she grabbed the handle, ready to pull it open, to go after him, make him apologise. At the very least, she could get him fired.

Or, better yet, she could hurt him.

She stopped herself, exhaling and closing her eyes, counting to five.Let it go, she told herself.Let this one go. Use your imagination instead.

She pictured him shrunken, crushed beneath her foot like a doll, and the pressure in her slowly ebbed away, though the euphoria she would have felt if she really had hurt him was absent.

Still, she felt calmer.

In the kitchen, where Rose was waiting, she set the boxes out and watched Rose help herself to several slices of the spicy pizza. Dylan came down and piled his plate high.

‘It’s fine for you to take it to your room if you want,’ Fiona said.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely.’ She exhibited what she thought was a conspiratorial smile and he grunted and exited. She was pleased. She wanted to spend more time alone with Rose.

‘Mum would never let me have this,’ Rose said after eating a slice that was smothered with red chilis. ‘She hates hot food and assumes everyone’s like her.’

‘But you’re not?’

‘I don’t know. Everyone says welooklike each other.’

That was true. Emma and Rose had the same hair and eye colour, and their lips were an identical shape. Rose was less expressive, though. On the two occasions Fiona had met Emma, both brief, it had been easy to see the emotions right there on the surface of her face. She was an easy study, an open book, as was Dylan. Ethan was a little harder. He came across as placid and mild, but Fiona got the sense there was more going on underneath. Duck feet paddling furiously beneath a calm surface.

‘Do you want to watch a movie?’ Fiona asked, slipping Lola the dog a piece of crust as she spoke.

‘Sure. What, though?’

They went into the living room, Lola trotting after them, and Rose showed Fiona how to work the telly. Fiona flicked through the list of recently released films.

‘How about this one?’

It was a movie calledM3GAN. The poster showed what appeared to be a life-size, realistic doll, gazing at a little girl around Rose’s age.

Rose’s eyes widened. ‘But that’s a horror movie.’

‘Is it?’ Horror was the only genre of film she really enjoyed. She particularly liked slasher movies, the old-school type in which a group of attractive teens were hunted down and butchered, one by one.

‘I’ve seen clips of it on TikTok,’ Rose said. ‘She does this dance ...’

‘Well, that sounds like fun. We can rent it through my account, and I won’t tell if you don’t.’

Rose’s eyes were even wider now. Shining with glee. It was the most kid-like Fiona had seen her. ‘My mum doesn’t let me watch scary movies. She says they’ll give me nightmares.’

‘And what do you think?’

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