The neighbour, p.22
The Neighbour, page 22
‘I don’t think you’re very well, Shelly. Here, let me help you.’ Niamh snaked an arm around my shoulders as I attempted to step towards the sofa. It was a million miles away. An unachievable distance and every part of my body was like lead. I could barely drag one foot in front of the other. ‘It’s okay, I’ve got you,’ Niamh said, her voice warm and comforting like a hot bath on a cold night.
‘Lauren?’ I muttered, my eyelids fluttering.
‘She’s fine, she’s at Amber’s, remember. She’ll be back soon.’ Niamh carried me along a few more steps, closer to the sofa.
I reached out a hand, but it was still too far away.
‘Gosh, you’re heavy, Shelly.’ Niamh laughed, pausing to reposition her hip against my waist, to hoist me upwards. It was rude, you never commented on a lady’s weight, everyone knew that, but I struggled to vocalise my indignance.
The blue leather sofa was so close I could almost touch it, but before I could lurch towards it, Niamh steered me away. I reached out a hand, whimpering, vaguely aware I had drool on my chin. Teddy barked, quickly silenced by Niamh hissing at him.
‘No time to sit down, Shelly, we’ve got places to go.’ Niamh’s cheery tone did nothing to allay the danger my brain realised I was in. A notion so fleeting, it was there one second and gone the next.
Everything was fine, wasn’t it? I was with Niamh. It was the last lucid thought I had before the front door opened and the sun streamed in, blinding me. I raised my hand to shield my eyes and everything went black.
51
At first I was sure I was still in bed when my eyelids peeled apart. It was dark but not pitch black, a crack of daylight coming through the curtains. Like a spring morning which fools you into thinking it’s later than it is. A fog danced around my head, thoughts slow and incoherent. My muscles were stiff and unyielding, I yearned to stretch out and flex my limbs, but they were wholly disconnected. It took me back to days where I’d slept, wedged onto Josh’s tiny sofa, waking with numb legs, a banging headache and a mouth like the bottom of a parrot’s cage. Throat sore and scratchy, I licked my lips, a thirst like no other raging through me.
Where was Lauren? Was she still in bed? I had no sense of time, perhaps it was early and she was still asleep. I’d get up in a minute and make her breakfast, I needed to come to properly before I moved my sluggish body. It was a good few seconds until I was able to get my brain to tell my legs to move. My bare foot hit something hard, toes meeting resistance, something not allowing the extension of my limbs. Bewildered, I reached out and touched the sliver of light to see where it was coming from, my fingertips connecting with an unmistakeable surface.
Blood thundered in my ears as realisation set in. I knew exactly where I was as dread suffocated me, pouring into my lungs and filling me up until I could bear it no longer. Screaming to be let out, I thrashed my body from side to side, slamming into thick enclosed panels, a dark wooden coffin I knew every inch of. I was in my mother’s chest and if I was here, where was Lauren?
Trailing my fingertips over the scratches and indentations I’d made many years ago, I howled to be released, my throat hoarse. Tears poured down my cheeks and I gasped for air, despite knowing I had enough. The chest wasn’t airtight, but panic consumed every rational thought I had. Small spaces had been a problem for me, ever since the punishment was introduced. I’d hear the chest creak as my mother sat on the lid, berating me as I hammered from the inside, begging to be freed. Promising I’d be good, I’d do whatever she wanted, if she’d let me out.
Slow your breathing, Shelly, otherwise you’ll pass out. I tried to listen to the logical part of my brain, grasping at what I knew. I wasn’t ten years old, we weren’t in Mum’s cottage. Mum was dead and the chest had last been seen in Remy’s van. Where was it now? I knew I wasn’t at home, it didn’t smell the same. Over the musty smell of the chest was a faint scent of ammonia scratching at my throat. I swallowed, imagining a cool glass of water sliding down my gullet, trying to satisfy my thirst.
I became still and quiet, listening for any sounds, aching to hear my daughter’s voice or at least a clue to where I was. Had Niamh done this? I’d drank the coffee, was still tasting it at the back of my tongue. That was the last thing I remembered.
The muscles in my left thigh began to ping, cramping pains shooting down my leg and I kicked the bottom of the chest, wincing as my toes slammed into wood. I couldn’t hear anyone.
‘Let me out,’ I shouted, banging with the palm of my hand.
The chest wasn’t big enough for me to even turn over. I was stuck in a foetal position on my side, bones protesting at the now unnatural pose. I was too old, too big and the lack of space made me hyperventilate. How long had I been here? I had no concept of time, no watch to check.
Where was Lauren! My stomach lurched, bile rising in my throat. If anyone had hurt her, I’d kill them. Fear had me beating my fists on the wood, again and again, screaming and thrashing. ‘Lauren! Lauren!’ I had to get out, get to my daughter.
A layer of sweat settled upon my skin, the nightmarish claustrophobia making my temperature rocket. From above, I caught the faint sound of voices, hushed deep tones, someone talking fast. Their companion sharp and prickly. One of them had to be Remy. He’d had the chest, he was going to get rid of it for me. Maybe he’d kept it for himself.
‘Remy, please let me out, I’m begging you,’ I cried, my only thought was of Lauren. I couldn’t protect her from inside the chest and the pull to get to her was visceral. A primal urge so paramount, I’d never stop fighting to reach her.
The sound of Mum’s bell paralysed me. Jaw slack, my heart stopped as it tinkled, echoing around the chest. Shaken from above. Unable to move, the ringing paused and the chest creaked. A body had lowered themselves onto the lid. Their voice clearer now.
‘All you had to do, Shelly, was mind your own business. We welcomed you in, you and your daughter.’ Niamh’s voice coming from above. I slammed my fist into the wood at the mention of Lauren. How dare she speak of her.
‘Where is she? What have you done with her?’ Spittle flew down my chin and I scraped the edge where the light bled through, trying to increase the gap, wincing as two of my nails split.
‘She’s fine, she’s with Amber. I must admit you were out of it for longer than I expected. Those sleeping pills of yours are strong, eh.’ Niamh shifted position and I imagined her crossing and uncrossing her legs. Poised on top of the chest like she was sitting side-saddle on a pony. ‘I was going to run a nice warm bath for you to have your accident in, which is why I needed your sleeping pills. No one would question why you had your own prescribed medication in your stomach, but I couldn’t have Lauren discover you dead in the tub. It would haunt her for life.’
‘Please don’t hurt her,’ I begged, eyes filling with tears.
‘I’m not a monster, Shelly, and I didn’t want to have to go through this again, but you wouldn’t keep your nose out. It was done and dusted and in just over a week you’ve dredged it all up again.’
My brow furrowed, what was she on about?
‘Niamh, come on, you can let me out, I won’t tell anyone, I can move, take Lauren and…’ It struck me like a mallet around the head, the cool realisation none of this was about me at all. ‘Is this about Danielle?’
More voices came from above, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying, hurried whispers I was unable to decipher. How many people were there, two? Three? My back prickled with sweat, limbs screaming at me to move, if only I could. How long had I been unconscious for? Niamh had drugged me, with my own sleeping pills, the ones the doctor had given me but I barely used. When had she taken them? Niamh hadn’t been upstairs in the house, unless she’d been inside when I wasn’t there? Unless she’d been the intruder?
‘Niamh, please, you don’t have to do this. Is Remy there, with you?’
‘The police are asking all sorts of questions, Shelly. I could tell you were putting the pieces together. It’s only a matter of time.’
‘Did Derek hurt her? Are you protecting him?’ It was the only logical explanation. Beech Close was a tight-knit community. Everyone knew everyone. Had they all been a part of Danielle’s disappearance? Stupid Shelly, shouting your mouth off when they were all in on it… asking your questions, digging for answers, when they all knew.
‘Derek?’ A cold laugh came from above, the lid creaking. ‘I see you haven’t quite figured it out yet.’
As long as I could keep her talking, keep her with me and not Lauren, she might be safe. Laying in a puddle of my own sweat and tears, clothes sticking to my skin, nails broken and bleeding, I’d stay here forever if it meant Lauren would be unharmed.
‘Tell me what happened to Danielle.’
52
DANIELLE
Someone was in the house. I’d heard them before, footsteps scuttling around downstairs like rats. My doctor thought it was bollocks, a manic episode, and changed my meds for the umpteenth time. But I wasn’t mad. People had been here and as I lived alone, and was OCD about my belongings, I could tell when the tiniest thing had moved or changed.
If Barney was here, he’d bark like he’d done before. Always my protector, unless he was in with a chance of a cuddle. The thought made me well up, I missed him terribly. He’d been gone for two days, lost, although I was adamant he’d been stolen. One minute he was on the driveway, the next he was gone. I’d only turned my back for a second and I assumed he’d made a break for freedom, down to the park we so often visited. I’d spent hours searching, but to no avail.
A creak from below made me shrink deeper into the corner. I pressed my lids together and put my hands over my ears, shutting out the sound. If I couldn’t hear it or see it, it wasn’t real. Part of me wanted to confront them, find out who had been torturing me, coming in when I wasn’t here and sometimes even when I was. They must have their own key, but the estate agents wouldn’t let me change the locks. Nothing was ever taken, not that I knew of, which made it worse, I couldn’t prove anyone had been in.
There was another reason I didn’t want to go downstairs. What if it confirmed my worst fear, which wasn’t a masked intruder, but that I was imagining the whole thing? That my bipolar disorder had stretched to manifesting noises. Deep down I was in denial, this had to be in my head, or someone was trying to drive me crazy, although why they’d want to, I had no idea. This time I’d been hiding in the airing cupboard for an hour, too embarrassed to call the police and waste their time, using a nail file in my pocket to scratch the word LEAVE NOW into the wall.
It was exactly what I was going to do. Leave Beech Close. I’d had enough. The neighbours were mental, like Stepford Wives. Valerie was a massive pain in the arse and not even the fling with Remy made it bearable. No, it was time to go. Christmas was almost here, I’d finished at Green Fields for the term, and it was the perfect opportunity for a change. Me and Barney were going to jump in the car and head north, perhaps surprise Maria. I had to find him first though.
A sound caught my attention, a faint familiar noise, coming from outside. Barking? My ears pricked, it was barking. Without hesitating, I threw open the airing cupboard door onto the gloom of the hallway. I’d left a light on downstairs which was filtering up, but outside the December evening was dark and wet. Rain tapped against the window, and I strained to listen, the intruder forgotten. It was unmistakable, I could hear Barney and my heart sang at the sound.
I took the stairs two at a time, jumping down the last three to an empty lounge, the barking slightly louder now. Racing to the front door, I threw it open, yanking my keys out of the lock and running barefoot onto the driveway. Freezing once again to listen, angling my head. Valerie’s, the barking was coming from Valerie’s house. That bitch!
Tearing around the hedge, feet slapping on the wet pavement, I ran towards her door, not registering it was ajar when I slammed into it. The red door bounced against the wall, springing back and knocking into me as I fell over the threshold. The hallway door was open, so I could see straight into the front room.
Valerie’s eyes were wide, and she clutched her hand which looked like it was bleeding. Barney’s fluffy paws could be seen poking through the wire cage he’d been locked in. The witch had stolen my dog.
She kicked at it, the cage rocking. ‘Bloody mongrel.’
I hoped he’d bitten her down to the bone.
‘Let him out,’ I snarled, getting to my feet. I didn’t wait for a response, pure hot rage burned in my stomach as I raced towards her full pelt. Shoving her with my shoulder like a rugby player, it threw us both off balance and we crashed onto the floor, winded. Taking my chance as Valerie gasped, I scrambled on top of her, my jaw clenched so tight I could hear my teeth grinding together. Valerie’s arms flailed as she tried to fend me off. Sharp nails scratched at my face as she attempted to defend herself. Barney barked, louder now, growling through the cage.
‘That dog won’t bark for much longer,’ she said, her voice raspy, still managing to grin. The old woman was crazy, but she’d gone too far this time. My hands found her throat, wrapping around her delicate swan-like neck. My fingers slowly compressed as I remembered all the taunts, the snipes, and the abusive notes left on my car. Valerie banging on the walls at all hours of the day and night, throwing her rubbish over the fence, doing anything she could to piss me off. She’d been relentless since I’d arrived, worse when she found out Remy had taken me for dinner. She was how it had come about, him sweet-talking me around after I complained about his mother’s behaviour. Giving me the sob story of her diagnosis, but nothing excused her taking my dog.
I pressed down hard against her windpipe, watching her eyes bulge. Beneath me her body twisted and bucked, but I held fast, my weight pinning her to the floor.
‘Mum?’ a voice called from the front door, but before I had a chance to turn there was a sudden rush of footsteps, a whooshing sound through the air and the room disappeared.
53
SHELLY
My question about Danielle went unanswered, although I could briefly hear voices, a heated discussion.
‘On three,’ a man said, and now I was sure it was Remy’s voice. If I could just get him to talk to me, I didn’t think he’d hurt me.
After the countdown, the chest wobbled, then jolted upwards. Groans came from either end as it was hoisted up.
‘Wait, what’s happening? Where are you taking me?’ I yelled, hammering on the lid as the chest swayed from side to side. How were Niamh and Remy going to carry it with me inside? Was someone else helping?
Shuffling footsteps transported me back to Remy and I trying to manoeuvre it down the garden path, struggling with the size of it. Then the chest was back on something solid, gliding, the sound of squeaking wheels beneath. Was I on a trolley?
‘Lauren!’ I screamed. ‘Lauren,’ still pummelling the wood, my knuckles stinging.
A few seconds later, the chest wobbled again, swaying before I was dropped down onto a hard surface, the chest sliding forwards. My elbow banged against the side of the chest as doors slammed. It wasn’t until the engine turned over that I worked out I was in the back of the van – Remy’s van he’d used to bring the chest home? Where were they taking me?
I pushed at the lid, remembering the metal latch. With some force, I could break it from its hinges. I hadn’t been able to as a child, despite the hours I’d spent trying, but I was fully grown now.
Placing my hands in the middle of the lid, towards the edge where I knew the catch to be, I pushed. Short bursts of energy, to see if I could jolt the lid and work the catch off its hinges. At first, nothing happened, but I continued, targeting the same area, slamming the heels of my hands against the wood and forcing it upwards until slowly the creak of light around the rim grew. It was working.
Sweat puddled at the base of my back, the musty tang of sour air and perspiration in the confined space, as I continued to shove the lid, encouraged by my progress. The chest bounced around in the rear of the van, lurching at one point as Remy must have taken a turn too fast. How long did I have until they reached their destination? I silently prayed they kept driving, my wrists now in agony, arms tired and aching, but the crack was almost big enough to slip my fingers through. A couple more good shoves would do it, even if my bones snapped in the process.
If only I could roll over and lift my feet to help, but the chest was too shallow. My body ached from being in the same position, but I ignored it, still rhythmically banging on the lid. I sensed the van slowing down, gravel under the wheels. It was now or never. Smashing the lid with my knuckles, I pushed upwards, keeping the tension until the light widened still and I was able to roll onto my back, using my knees as leverage against the lid. Another hard push and a blissful snapping sound, followed by metal clanking on the floor of the van. I lurched upwards, curling my body over the edge of the chest and falling out of it onto the boarded floor, narrowly missing the now folded trolley they’d used to move me.
My arms and shoulders screamed in pain as I tried not to make a sound, the van juddering to a halt with a screech of brakes.
‘We can’t do this,’ Remy’s voice came from the driver’s seat, the noise carrying from the cab.
I remained still, not wanting to alert them to my escape now the van had stopped.
‘We don’t have a choice,’ Niamh responded coldly.
A phone rang, its shrill ringtone slicing through the silence, giving me my opportunity to crawl onto my hands and knees, towards the back door.
‘Who is it?’ Remy snapped.
‘Amber, she’s texted me once already, wants to know how long she’s got to have Lauren for.’
