Page 13 of The Family Across the Street
‘It’s not a good time,’ Katherine repeats. ‘But thanks. It’s just not a good time.’ The peephole is closed.
Gladys folds her arms and feels the sun burning through the thin blue blouse she is wearing.
She thinks about ringing the doorbell again but decides against it. Katherine obviously wants to be left alone.
She sounded stressed, the poor woman. Perhaps the children are both ill with colds or something – but then why not just say that? Katherine knows that Gladys would sympathise and even offer to help.
She hears some movement inside – the sound of running footsteps – and she pulls her shoulders back a little, listening closely.
A voice comes through the door in a fierce whisper: ‘This is a very strange house right now.’
She can’t tell if it’s George or Sophie speaking but she does know it’s one of the children. She frowns and crouches down a little, hoping it will help her hear better. ‘Why?’ she asks.
‘Sophie, get over here,’ she hears George shout from further away, and then there are footsteps as Sophie moves away from the door.
Gladys stands up straight and once again thinks about ringing the bell.
Then she hears the peephole open again and waits in case it’s Katherine, and in case she wants to say something. She stands still for a moment, a smile plastered on her face, but when nothing else is said she feels silly and turns around. She takes a couple of steps and waits again, but when there is only silence, she goes back down the stone path to the front gate. She walks slowly but is aware of feeling like she needs to move quickly. She feels like she’s being watched. The hair on her arms stands up and even in the strong morning heat, she feels cold. Something is not right inside that house. She’s sure of it.
Back in her own kitchen she puts on the kettle to make herself a cup of tea and then immediately switches it off again. She doesn’t know what she should do or why she feels so strange about what just happened. It was probably just a joke, just Sophie being silly.
‘Gladys,’ calls Lou from the living room, ‘Gladys, where are you?’ He sounds frantic, as he does whenever he wakes up and can’t find her.
‘I’m here, Lou,’ she calls. Before he retired, she used to call him at lunchtime every day and he would say, ‘Now don’t you worry, sweet pea, I’ll be home at six on the dot and I won’t smile at any woman except you.’ It always made her laugh. He doesn’t make jokes anymore.
In the living room, she fixes the pillow behind his back. He has slumped sideways a little in his sleep and she tries to right him, but he pushes at her to get her to step away from him.
‘Stop fussing. Where were you?’
She steps back and folds her arms to stop herself from smoothing down his hair for him. ‘Just in the kitchen, Lou, just making tea. Where else would I be?’
He gives her a look and she sits down in her chair. ‘Truthfully, I went over to check on them.’ She picks up her book from the small table next to her chair where she has left it and opens it, staring down at the pages.
‘Ha, I knew you would, and I bet everything is fine and now they think you’re an interfering old woman.’
Gladys closes the book, knowing that reading will not be possible. ‘Don’t be rude, Lou.’ She debates with herself for a moment over whether to tell him anything or not but she needs to say something. ‘Actually, everything is not fine. I don’t think it is at all.’ She shakes her head as Lou folds his hands in his lap and waits for her to go on. ‘Katherine wouldn’t open the door and then Sophie whispered to me that there was something strange going on in the house.’
‘Probably just messing about.’ Lou picks up the remote control for the television, pointing it at the screen.
‘I don’t think so. I think something may be a little bit wrong.’
‘What could possibly be wrong?’ he asks.
‘I don’t know, they seem unhappy sometimes – her and John, I mean.’
He shrugs his shoulders and then lifts his glasses onto his face. ‘You can’t judge someone else’s marriage, Gladys. It’s not your business.’
Lou switches on the TV, turning it to the news. The face of a pretty young woman flashes up on the screen.
‘A young woman has been badly beaten and left for dead in her apartment,’ drones the newsreader. ‘It is believed that the victim knew her attacker although enquiries are still in the early stages. Police are interviewing neighbours and have established a crime scene.’
On the screen is a glaring shot of an ambulance surrounded by police holding up blankets to shield someone from the prying eyes of the media as they are being brought out on a stretcher.
‘People are just terrible,’ says Lou, shaking his head.
‘Yes,’ she agrees. ‘Who would want to hurt such a pretty young girl? And in her own home too. Home should be a place where you’re safe. It really should be.’ She finds herself tearing up a little with no real idea why it’s upset her so much.
‘Weren’t you making tea?’ he asks, but he asks politely and she knows it’s because she’s scolded him for being abrupt with her.
