Page 21 of The Family Across the Street
‘We do,’ says Gladys, and she hears the small sigh from Lou. He wanted there to be no peaches so that he could protest and fuss. Before he can say anything else, she leaves the living room and goes to the kitchen, where she selects and washes a peach, cutting it up into pieces that are easy for Lou to eat but big enough for his trembling hands to pick up. She pops a piece into her mouth, savouring the tangy sweet taste that always feels like summer in a mouthful. Gladys feels the peach stick in her throat at the idea that there is nothing to look forward to except the loss of Lou. Stop being silly, she admonishes herself.
She takes the peach back to Lou and hands him his pills, watches in silence as he swallows them like a child.
‘Where are you going now?’ he asks when she leaves again.
‘The tumble dryer is done. I’m just going to take the linen upstairs and put it away.’
‘You never sit still for a second,’ he says irritably.
Gladys bites down on her harsh words. ‘I’ll only be a minute,’ she says.
Once the linen is safely and neatly put away, she goes into the guest bedroom to see if Katherine has finally opened the blinds in the children’s rooms but they remain closed, the house silent and glowering in the hot morning.
She studies them for a minute, wondering why this is bothering her so much. She can think of a hundred reasons why she should not even be thinking about this but something keeps niggling at her and she has no idea what. What did Sophie mean by something strange going on in the house? Has the child also felt the tension between her parents?
Gladys rubs at a spot on the window. Are the Wests planning to divorce?
Does Katherine want the divorce or does John? Or both of them? She hopes they don’t do it, if only for the sake of the children. Katherine would put the twins’ needs first. Gladys knows that she’s a very passionate and loving mother. She’d had the help of her own mother until the middle of last year, when Janet lost her life to a heart attack. Katherine was devastated. Perhaps losing her mother has made her question everything in her life. Losing a loved one can make a person look at everything differently. Even the understanding that Lou will not be around for many more years has changed the way Gladys approaches her own life. Nothing seems to interest her that much anymore.
One of the blinds twitches a little and, to her amazement, as she watches, two small hands appear holding a white piece of paper. There is something written on the paper in thick blue marker, but Gladys can’t see what it says. She needs her glasses for everything but she left them by the television set. She looks frantically around the guest room and is overjoyed to remember that Lou keeps his birdwatching binoculars in the guest room cupboard. ‘Don’t go away, don’t go away,’ she repeats as she frantically untangles the strap and puts the binoculars against her eyes, adjusting the lenses until she can see what’s written on the paper in shaky letters.
Halp Us
Help us. It says help us in a child’s handwriting. A chill goes through Gladys as she pulls her phone out of her pocket – meaning to take a picture to show Lou so he believes something is going on – but the little hands with the sign disappear abruptly and the blinds remain closed.
Gladys waits, her heart thudding in her chest, but there is no more movement from the house, and the longer she stares at the closed blinds, the more she questions what just happened.
She goes back downstairs on shaky legs. ‘You won’t believe what I’ve just seen,’ she says to Lou.
‘The linen cupboard, I imagine,’ says Lou, a spark of his old humour flaring up.
‘No, I’m being serious, Lou. I was in the spare bedroom checking if the blinds were open in Katherine’s house—’
He frowns and interrupts her. ‘What is your obsession with her blinds? You sound a bit mad, Gladys. She’s keeping them closed to keep out the heat, it’s a simple thing. Why won’t you leave it alone?’
‘Now you listen to me, Lou Philips, stop interrupting me! You’re being very rude,’ says Gladys, her voice sharp and high.
Lou’s shoulders bow a little and he sinks further into his chair. He hates it when she shouts at him. ‘Sorry, old girl,’ he mumbles, an unusual thing for him to say, and Gladys feels a familiar tap of guilt on her shoulder. He doesn’t mean to be like he is.
She goes over to sit next to him in her own leather chair. ‘It’s fine, love, but I wanted to tell you what I saw, so let me explain.’
‘All right, then.’ He gives her his full attention, still contrite about yelling at her.
‘One of the children held up a sign in the window, a handwritten sign, and it said, “Help us.” I mean “help” was spelled incorrectly but it definitely said, “Help us.”’ She takes out her phone, wishing she had a picture, and then shoves it back into her pocket, stands up and sits down again, the image of the sign appearing before her. Did she see what she thinks she saw?
‘That’s a bit odd,’ he concedes.
‘I know,’ says Gladys, relieved that he believes her even as she questions herself. ‘I told you something odd was going on over there. I think I should march over and demand Katherine open the door, or maybe I should just call the police.’
‘Listen, love,’ says Lou kindly, ‘I know that it’s hard being here with me all day, especially when you would rather be out. I know that but I think that you might need to take a little walk or something. I’ll be fine on my own for a bit.’
Irritation flares in Gladys at being dismissed as simply imagining things because she’s cooped up in the house. She thought he was on her side in this now. She struggles for a moderate tone, knowing that he is attempting kindness. ‘Something is happening in that house. I just know it.’ Gladys twists her hands together, anxiety gnawing at her. Yesterday –the thing she didn’t tell Lou about – comes back to her. But it’s obviously nothing to do with what’s happening at Katherine’s and she sees no reason to worry Lou when there is little he can do about it.
‘Maybe she and John had a big fight and they’re all just having a day to calm down. That might be why the kids are unsettled and making a game out of it. Remember when you thought I was flirting with the new secretary at work?’
‘That was years ago, Lou.’ She sighs and rubs at her forehead where she can feel a headache coming on.
‘Yes, but we fought all night and then the next day we both just took the day off and sorted ourselves out a bit. Sometimes a couple needs space to sort themselves out. The children may just be playing. If you call the police, I don’t think Katherine and John will appreciate it. No one in the neighbourhood ever does when you get involved.’
