Page 18 of The Psychopath Next Door

We exchanged small talk about her car and the weather.

‘Business good?’ she enquired. ‘I still need to get Alan’s old records out of storage, let you take a look at them. He kept them pristine, you know.’

‘Definitely. Just let me know when.’

I was a little sceptical. Over the years, a lot of people had asked me to look at their record collections. Since the vinyl boom, everyone thought there was treasure lurking among their old LPs and 45s, and they would always insist their records were in great condition, lots of gems among them. Then I would turn up and finda load of scratched copies ofBrothers in Arms, yet anotherBest of Blondiewith a torn sleeve and coffee rings on the cover, and tatty seven-inch singles that looked like they’d been rescued from a skip. Every now and then I’d find something decent – an originalExile on Main St.or someone’s cherished Northern Soul collection. But I wasn’t in a rush for Iris to dig her late husband’s vinyl out of wherever it was stored.

I turned towards her neighbours’ house. I hadn’t seen them return to their home since yesterday morning, which obviously didn’t bode well.

‘Any news about Albie?’

‘No. That poor family. A chap came yesterday afternoon – Tommy’s brother, I think – to collect the dogs, and I asked him what was happening, but he was extremely vague. I’m not ...’ She trailed off, grimacing.

‘What is it?’

‘Well, I feel bad saying this, but they’re not the easiest family to live next door to, with the dogs barking and the sound of that bike and, well, I’m sure you’ve heard Tommy and Nicola fighting from across the street. But seeing that poor boy yesterday, it made me sick. Do you have any idea what happened?’

‘It seems like the front tyre blew out. I saw a police car parked over there this morning, a couple of cops taking a look. I was asking Dylan about it and he pointed out that there’s a little ridge on the ground where it happened, right between two trees. He said he’s seen them racing up to that ridge so it becomes a kind of ramp, and they jump the bike between the trees. I guess the front tyre burst as Albie was doing this and it sent him flying off course, straight into the tree.’

Iris winced, picturing it.

‘I would never let my kids on something like that,’ I said.

‘I never would have either.’ I could see her force herself to brighten. ‘How are your two?’

‘Oh, they’re fine. Dylan’s out with friends. Rose has gone round to Fiona’s to help her choose a name for her new kitten.’

‘How lovely.’ She looked across at Fiona’s house. ‘So that’s her name? I haven’t met her yet. What’s her surname?’

I thought about it. ‘Smith.’ I only remembered that because, when she’d said it, I’d thoughtlike Robert Smith, the singer with my favourite band. ‘I don’t know much about her, though, except that she seems nice. Is that bad, that I’m letting someone I hardly know look after my daughter?’

Iris waved a hand. ‘In the old days we all used to look after each other’s kids. It takes a village and all that.’

‘That was in the East End, right?’ Iris had told me before that she was a proper Cockney, raised in some part of east London that had since been gentrified. She had moved out to the suburbs after she retired.

‘That’s right. And I think it’s nice to see that happening here. Neighbours helping neighbours. We actually have a decent little community here. Quite rare nowadays. But that Fiona ... I’m sure I recognise her from somewhere.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, I haven’t actually spoken to her, but she looks familiar. Do you know where she’s from?’

‘Somewhere in Australia.’

‘I wasn’t expecting you to say that. Maybe Idon’tknow her. To be honest, a lot of young women look the same to me these days. She’s not as attractive as your Emma, though, I’ll say that.’ She winked at me. ‘You’re a lucky man.’

‘I . . . Thanks.’

I could see her trying to read my expression, perhaps surprised by my muted reaction. I was gripped by an urge to ask her if sheand her late husband had ever been through rocky patches, if she had ever felt hurt and betrayed by Alan. But I already knew the answer. Of course their marriage would have had difficult spells. Every marriage did. My own parents hadn’t weathered their marital storm; they’d run aground and gone their separate ways. I was still determined that Emma and I would – at the risk of stretching this metaphor too far – get back in the boat and sail on together.

‘I’d better get home,’ I said. ‘Let’s hope for good news about Albie.’

‘I’ll mention him in my prayers tonight.’

I went back over the road and into the house. Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door. It was Rose, with Fiona. Rose insisted that Fiona come in and I didn’t argue. Fiona was still barefoot, her toenails painted turquoise. I noticed she was wearing make-up now too. Lipstick, the same peach shade that Emma wore.

‘Did you come up with a name?’ I asked, once we were in the kitchen.

‘We did. Rose had loads of great suggestions but we went with Karma.’

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