Behind a Closed Door (The Estate, Book 2) (10 page)

Stewart was sprawled the length of the settee in the living room when she arrived home, but immediately jumped up to join her in the kitchen.

‘Where the bloody hell have you been until now?’ he demanded.

‘Let me at least take my coat off before you start ranting,’ Josie said. ‘I had to cover a tenants’ meeting. Didn’t you get my first text message? I sent it about half past four.’

‘You never told me about it last night.’

‘That’s because I didn’t know about it then. Good old Ray decided to bunk off and I was the only one left to cover it. Have you eaten yet?’ Josie unzipped her fleece and moved through to the kitchen. ‘If you haven’t, I can cook you something while I catch
Corrie
on the portable.’

She’d only made it to the fridge when Stewart came up behind her. He slammed his palm on the wall by the side of her head.

‘You’re seeing someone else, aren’t you?’

‘What? Don’t be –’

Stewart grabbed her arm, pulled her closer and sniffed. ‘I can smell him on you. You’ve been with him tonight.’

Josie flinched as his fingers dug into her skin. ‘I haven’t been near anyone else. You know I wouldn’t do –’

‘
How
would I know? You could use that frigging job of yours as an excuse any time you want to. I wouldn’t be any wiser. You could even meet him at one of your empty properties. You’ve got loads of opportunities, so don’t deny it.’

‘Stop it!’ she cried. ‘You’re hurting me.’

‘You don’t see a problem with hurting ME!’

‘Let me go! I haven’t been seeing anyone else!’

Stewart loosened his grip and bent forward, his face an inch away from hers. ‘No, you’re right.’ He sniggered. ‘No one in their right mind would have you, would they?’

Josie let out her breath as she watched him shrug on his coat. There was so much that she wanted to say, but words wouldn’t form. Instead, she watched him swipe up his car keys and leave the room.

As soon as the front door slammed behind him, she burst into tears. She sat down at the kitchen table, tentatively rolling her shoulder as she tried to ease the pain in her arm. What had got into him now? If it wasn’t the house, he’d be moaning about something else. Something trivial, just like most of her tenants. It was like being at work at times. Throughout their marriage, all she’d ever done for Stewart was her best, and now even that didn’t seem good enough. But then again, no wonder he thought she was a good catch. He could see ‘easy life’ written all the way through her like the lettering inside a stick of seaside rock.

Josie had met Stewart after a night out in the town. One of the office girls was leaving and most of the housing staff had gone for a meal to send her on her way. It was only after Josie had dropped the last of her passengers off that her car decided to splutter to a halt half a mile from home. Reluctant to walk alone in the dark, she’d rung Kay, the office manager, who had sent husband Richard to help. In the meantime, she’d opened the driver’s door, released the handbrake and attempted to push it to the side of the road.

Stewart, with several of his friends, had rounded the corner on the way back from the pub to see a damsel in distress. They’d manoeuvred the car into a better position, locked it up and gone on their way. Moments later, Stewart had returned to keep her company and by the time Richard had arrived, they’d arranged to meet up for a drink the following lunch time. Josie could hardly believe her luck. He was the first man who’d shown an interest in her since her mum died.

Stewart had swept Josie off her feet. He called her beautiful and her confidence had grown. Josie knew she wasn’t beautiful – far from it, with her pale complexion, wavy mass of hair and waif-like figure. But he took control of her, made her think that she needed him. And, after losing her mum, that was exactly what she did need. It took her a long while to realise, however, that what she’d first mistaken for loving concern was actually his possessive manner.

Their wedding day a year later had been quiet. Josie wasn’t one for a huge affair and Stewart had agreed with his bride-to-be. But it had been a lot quieter than she had at first anticipated. Stewart had booked the ceremony at the local registry office for the month after he’d proposed. He said there was no point in waiting now that they both knew what they wanted. There had only been the two of them. Stewart had managed to persuade a couple in their late fifties to witness the occasion, brought a disposable camera at the local chemist and a suit from the high street. Josie wore a dress she’d found in the summer sales the week before and, late in August 2007, she became Mrs Josie Mellor. A quick meal afterwards – Stewart insisted on the witnesses tagging along too, giving them no time alone to celebrate – and that had been that.

It was when he came to live with her that things started to change. Like Josie, Stewart had never moved away from the family home, but his had been rented from the local council. Giving it up had been easy for him. There was no more rent to pay and what furniture he had he sold.

Before long, he began to question Josie’s every motive: what time was she coming home, what time did the meeting finish, could anyone else go instead? Josie soon realised he was a control freak, often behaving like a spoilt child if he didn’t have things his own way. It wasn’t long until she realised that she was in the same position that she’d been in with her mother.

She stared at her weary reflection in the window as she sat in silence. She wondered if this was really what marriage was about, what everyone raved about, what other girls had craved since puberty. Was this the ‘worse’ part mentioned in the wedding vows she’d taken, or did it get any better?

She wondered again if Stewart still loved her. Had he
ever
loved her or had he only ever seen her as a safe bet? Good old Josie; in her mind’s eye, even she could see how much of a catch she’d been. She didn’t have to be exceptional in the looks department to provide a roof over his head. She didn’t need to keep up with the latest fashions to wash, dry and iron his clothes. She didn’t have to have a confident manner to cook him a decent meal.

One lone tear trickled down her cheek. She left it to travel down her chin, her neck, her chest, as she wondered what she should do about things.

She knew what she
should
do. But she also knew what she
would
do – absolutely nothing.

‘Hello, you.’ Cathy Mason flashed a welcoming smile as she opened her door to find Josie on her front door step. ‘How’s tricks?’

‘Fine. I called by on the off chance you’d be in,’ Josie explained, glad of a warm welcome for a change. ‘I heard about the burglary. Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.’ Cathy’s shoulders sagged. ‘Which is more than can be said about my TV! Whoever the bastard was, he put a hammer through the screen. I hadn’t had it long.’

Josie pulled a sympathetic face. ‘It’s a good job you’re insured.’

‘Yes, and Matt has fitted better locks now, but it still pisses you off, doesn’t it? Have you got time for a cuppa?’

‘Sometimes I don’t believe a word of what they say about this estate and its tenants. Some of them are salt of the earth.’ Josie grinned. ‘I’d love one please.’

‘There’s a packet of chocolate biscuits in the cupboard,’ she pointed. ‘Help yourself.’

‘So, how are you and Matt getting along? Still good, I hope?’ Josie enquired, as Cathy bustled about making coffee. Cathy’s smile told her everything she needed to know. She sighed wistfully. ‘I wish I could have a little more happiness every now and again.’

‘Oh dear. That doesn’t sound good.’

‘Never mind me, I’m rambling.’ Josie waved the remark away with the flick of a wrist. ‘Something and nothing. Have the police got any clues as to who it might be?’

Cathy shook her head. ‘Nope, they just gave me a crime reference number. I’m yet again another statistic.’

‘Do you think it might be linked to anyone you have staying here?’

‘I don’t think so, though I can’t be certain.’

Cathy Mason had been Josie’s saviour many times over the past three years. She’d been widowed at thirty-six, four years ago now. Josie had always liked Rich Mason. Although a trouble maker in his early years, he’d left his reputation behind in the prison cell he’d spent three years in for armed robbery. Once out, he’d made an honest woman of Cathy Riley.

But until a few months ago, everyone was under the assumption that Rich had stumbled coming home from the pub one night. One drink too many and he’d taken a tumble down a flight of steps on his way back. His neck had been broken and he’d died instantly. Having found out since that the push had been deliberate and a couple of kicks to his head had finished him off, Cathy had been left traumatised. But as always, only people close to her would know that.

It was a chance encounter that had started Cathy on the caring route. A child of the care system herself, she’d taken in her friend’s daughter after her friend had threatened to kick her out. The result had been a learning curve for Cathy and, as she’d told Josie on numerous occasions, it had been nice to have company again. When she’d been made redundant for the second time in as many years, she’d opened up her home to more of the same.

Cathy only had room for four girls at a time, but she’d always help Josie out as much as she could, even if it meant giving up her room to spend the odd times on the settee. Sometimes the girls stayed a night, sometimes a week, sometimes – like in Jess Myatt’s and Becky Ward’s cases – months at a time. But since Matt had come onto the scene and Cathy had settled down with him, they’d been making enquiries into fostering children.

‘I wish we could collar this dickhead who’s been targeting the elderly on the estate. He’s the bloody bane of my life at the moment.’

Josie sat down at the table and Cathy pushed a mug over to her.

‘I bet he is,’ she said. ‘But at least whoever did mine didn’t take anything of sentimental value. Other things I can replace, but not photos or jewellery – not that I have any jewellery that’s worth nicking. It’s all cheap tat from Primark.’

‘And your window’s been fixed, no doubt?’ Josie’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Cathy noticed it. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you? You lot have put a piece of plywood over the pane but that’s it. How’s that supposed to make a woman feel safe?’

Josie reached for her folder. ‘I’ll make a note to chase it up when I get back. You know these things take time.’

‘Bloody budgets,’ said Cathy.

The back door flew open and a skinny, young girl marched in, slamming it shut behind her. She peered across at them before getting a glass of water.

‘Hello, Jess,’ said Josie.

‘Hi.’

‘Did you get my shopping?’ asked Cathy.

Jess held up a carrier bag. ‘They hadn’t got any of that cheese that you wanted so I got cheddar instead.’ She slung it down on the table and made for the door.

‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’ said Cathy.

Jess turned back with an exaggerated sigh. She pulled some coins from the pocket of her jeans.

Cathy held out her hand as she gave them to her. ‘Thank you.’

Jess smiled sweetly and turned on her heel again.

‘And?’ said Cathy.

‘And what?’ Jess huffed.

Cathy pointed to the bag on the table. ‘It won’t put itself away now, will it?’

Tutting, Jess grabbed the bag. ‘Jesus, what did your last servant die of?’

‘Not doing as she was told. It’s your own fault. You should have gone in to college this morning with Becky and you wouldn’t have to do anything.’

‘I didn’t get up in time.’

‘Becky did.’

‘Becky’s a swot. Besides, I don’t like the lecturer this morning. He gives me the creeps the way he stares at me.’

‘I’ll give you a lift in tomorrow if you like?’ Even though Jess had the odd day off here and there, Cathy had been pleased that she’d stayed in college since September, and marks from some of her essays were good, surprising them both. Still, Cathy didn’t want to encourage her to skive off.

Jess muttered something indistinguishable under her breath as she opened the fridge. Cathy rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

Josie grinned at her. ‘Looks like another satisfied customer!’

Cathy snorted. ‘At least I have some.’

Kelly picked up the leaflet that Josie had left for her and shoved it into her coat pocket, then she bundled Emily down the stairs and out into the morning air. One turn right and two lefts would take them onto Davy Road, the main road which chopped the estate in half more or less through its middle. As February made way for March, the days were getting longer and lighter by the minute, and the weather had warmed up considerably after the past few weeks of frost and freezing winds.

‘Will I meet lots of other kids?’ Emily asked, as they made their way along Clarence Avenue.

‘Yes, you will.’ Kelly was pleased that Emily was looking forward to it. It wasn’t her idea of fun to go along to a pre-school club, but now that she had so much time on her hands, it seemed a good idea. ‘And it will be nice for you to have some friends ready for when you start school in September.’