Watched: When Road Rage Follows You Home (6 page)

‘I don’t know what cats eat, I’m afraid. I’ve never had a pet. I’ll get you some cat food if you’re going to keep coming over to say hello. Would you like that?’

Patch continued slurping at the water, before nestling his head into her hand. Now he was close enough, Esther could see that the bald patch looked like a burn. The hairs that were still there had small, dark singe marks and were slightly shorter than the ones on top of his head. Patch finished the water and then mewed softly as Esther continued to stroke him. She held out her other hand, inviting the cat onto her lap when…

Doof-doof-doof.

From the front of the house, the familiar-sounding stereo was thumping its music into the summer afternoon. Patch’s ear pricked up, his back straightening before he turned and dashed towards the hedge.

Doof-doof-doof.

The music wasn’t disappearing into the distance, it was a steady thump, ominously close. Esther climbed to her feet, brushing the flecks of dirt from her knees. She could feel her heart beating quicker as she approached the house, not wanting to see what was on the other side as the pulsating tempo buzzed through the air. Esther crept across the concrete, peering over the side gate towards the road, trying to remain calm.

Directly in front of the house, the blue car of her nightmares was waiting in the centre of the road. The window was down, the driver’s tanned arm hanging limply through. On his fingers were chunky gold rings, with a flashy watch around his wrist, reflecting the sun towards her. She couldn’t see the driver’s eyes in the shadow of his baseball cap, but from the angle of his head and the smirk on his face, it was clear he was staring directly at her.

It felt like winter as Esther opened the side gate and walked around to the front of the house, not shifting her gaze from the vehicle. The exhaust was chugging clouds of grey smoke into the air as the stereo continued to pound its beat. Shivers rippled along her back, arms and legs as she rounded her car until she was on the edge of the driveway. The blue car remained unmoving a few metres ahead. The driver was drumming his fingers on the metal of the door, his smirk crooked but wide, eyes still shielded.

‘What do you want?’ Esther asked.

Doof-doof-doof.

She raised her voice, shouting to be heard over the music: ‘What do you want?’

The driver’s grin widened as he angled his face towards her slightly. Esther stepped onto the pavement and the engine growled with power.

‘What do you want?’

Esther stood with her arms wide but the driver didn’t reply. She strode towards the car, repeating herself but as soon as she was within reaching distance, the vehicle roared away, making her jump backwards to stop her feet being run over.

As the bass of the stereo disappeared around the corner, Esther was left standing in the centre of the road, coughing in the cloud of exhaust smog, wishing she’d set off thirty seconds earlier the day before.

SIX: CHARLIE

Charlie knew there was something wrong as soon as he entered the kitchen. Esther was standing at the stove stirring something but her shoulders were slumped and she seemed a couple of inches shorter than she actually was, as if someone had deflated her.

She didn’t turn. ‘Tea will be about fifteen minutes.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Who said anything was wrong?’

‘I did.’

Esther continued rubbing the spoon around the pan. ‘It’s stir-fry. I got some peppers from the shop and they had a beef joint on offer. We really need to go shopping though because there’s hardly anything in. I’ll try to go tomorrow.’

‘Esther…’

‘What?’

‘What’s up?’

She sagged even further, the wooden spoon in her hand almost seeming too heavy as she continued stirring. When she replied, she was practically whispering. ‘He came back.’

‘The driver?’

‘He parked outside the house with his music going.’

‘Did he say something?’

‘No, he—’

‘—He what?’

Esther finally turned but pulled away as Charlie tried to reach for her. ‘He didn’t do anything. He was watching our house with his stereo on and then when I went out onto the road—’

‘—You went out there?’

Esther pursed her lips, apparently a little hurt that he’d interrupted again. She sounded firmer when she spoke the next time. ‘I was in the garden when I heard the music. I was asking what he wanted but he didn’t reply. As soon as I got anywhere near his car, he drove off.’

Charlie stepped backwards as she returned to the stove. Initially he hadn’t wanted to tell his wife what he knew but there seemed no point in hiding it now.

‘He lives in a house out the back of ours.’

The only sound was the scrape of spoon on pan. When she eventually replied, there was a slight tremble to her voice. ‘How do you know?’

‘I ended up on the road that runs parallel to ours on my way to work this morning. There was a blue car exactly as you described on one of the driveways.’

‘Oh.’

As the vegetables continued sizzling, Charlie could feel his anger rising. As independent as his wife was, as creative, clever and practical, he couldn’t bear the thought of her having to deal with this by herself.

‘I think I’m going to go around there,’ he said.

She didn’t turn but the spoon stopped stirring. ‘Why?’

‘What else can we do? If it’s him calling us, dumping his rubbish on our drive and slashing your tyres, we can’t just ignore him.’

‘Why not? He’ll get bored eventually.’

‘What if he doesn’t?’

Esther didn’t reply but the scratch of the spoon began again. ‘Tea will be ready soon.’

‘I’m going to nip out for a few minutes. I’ll warm it up when I get home.’

Esther spun, sighing as she peered at him. ‘I don’t want you to go.’

‘I’m not going to do anything stupid. I just want to tell him to stop.’

‘Please don’t.’

Charlie undid his tie and left it hanging over the kitchen door handle. ‘I won’t be long. I don’t mind if you want to eat while I’m out.’

Esther started to say something but settled for tutting and twisting back to the stove, fiddling with the dials and turning down the heat. When she was annoyed with him, she didn’t shout or throw a tantrum, she simply didn’t talk to him.

Outside, the early evening was as pleasant as England ever got. The smell of barbeque was in the air: burgers, bacon and sausages sizzling as the sun beat down from the hazy sky. Charlie rolled his sleeves up and breathed in the crisp air. His heart was pounding: this was so unlike the type of thing he would usually do. He didn’t crave conflict and hadn’t been in any sort of fight since school. Even then, it was more rolling around on the ground than it was swinging fists. Esther was right that going to the other house likely wouldn’t achieve anything – but he felt completely emasculated. There was nothing he could say to reassure his wife and he hadn’t been able to do anything to stop the harassment. All he could do was try to reason with whoever the car owner was.

Charlie began walking along the road, following the route he’d driven that morning. Soon, he saw a cut-through next to a patch of grass between two rickety fences that was heading in the direction he needed to go. As with most estates, there would be a network of passages and paths out of sight from the road, so he figured there would be a route through. Charlie continued along until it opened onto one long, narrow track that was sandwiched by the road they lived on from the one he was trying to get to. On either side was a section of hedges and fences separating people’s gardens from the path. Eventually, Charlie reached another cross-section of tracks, following the tarmac until he emerged onto the main road. He turned in a circle, getting his bearings before realising he was only a few houses away from the drooping tree he’d seen that morning.

The driveway was empty.

Charlie’s heart was beating quicker again. He knew he had to either do something now, or slink home, embarrassed that he still hadn’t done anything to protect Esther.

Slowly, he approached the house, taking in the surroundings. The tree at the front wasn’t just overhanging, it was completely overgrown. Thick roots bulged through disjointed paving slabs on the driver’s side of the fence and the tarmacked drive next door. The branches were so thick that there was a patch of mud directly underneath, despite the rest of the soil being rock-hard from the lack of rain. The fence was made of thin wood, riddled with holes and missing strips, with dark oil stains splashed as far as Charlie could see.

With no car on the drive, Charlie had a clear view to the back garden. Tossed to the side was a twisted mangle of metal that looked like a mixture of an old pram and something that could have been a climbing frame. A rusting BMX was leaning against a dark wooden shed, with the unkempt grass longer than the forest at the back of their house.

The front of the house would have once been cream but was now a rusty-coloured, house-price-draining, blight on the neighbourhood – especially when compared to the neat properties opposite. The window frames were rotting, with the glass covered in a thin film of dirt and a neighbourhood watch sticker peeling away from the inside of the glass. Upstairs, one of the windows had black paper taped to the inside, blocking any view in or out.

Charlie knocked on the front door, waiting and wondering if there was anyone in. After a second attempt, he was ready to walk away when there was the sound of shuffling from inside. The door jammed in the frame but came free with a grunt and a heave, revealing a scowl in human form. Its owner was a woman with long black hair, skinny arms, and very little clothing. Her blotched bare legs were covered only by a pair of denim hot pants, with a low-cut sagging white top revealing a dark coloured bra. Around the rim of her left eye were the remains of what would once have been a black eye: a faint purple mixing with a jaundiced yellow.

‘Whatcha want?’ she shrugged.

‘I was, er, wondering if the man who owns the blue car is in.’

The woman leaned against the doorframe, chewing the inside of her mouth. ‘Dougie?’

‘Um… I suppose.’

‘Whatcha want ’im for?’

‘I was hoping to have a chat.’

She eyed Charlie up and down, the frown not lifting, her mouth barely opening as she replied. ‘Why?’

‘It’s a bit… awkward.’

‘Why?’

‘I’d rather talk with him if it’s okay.’

The woman stepped out of the house, making Charlie stumble backwards. She jabbed a finger towards him, eyes blazing, shoulders arched forward aggressively. ‘No, it’s not okay. Anything you have to say to him, you can say to me.’

Charlie flinched as a long fingernail flashed across his face but he did notice her fingers were clear of rings, meaning it was unlikely she was married. ‘He’s been harassing my wife – following her and parking outside of our house and taunting her. I think he’s got our phone number.’

She paused for a moment, raised eyebrow fixed, before the scowl returned. ‘Are you joking? Coming round here spreading shite about my Dougie.’

‘It’s not shite – I only came here to tell him to stop.’

‘Stop what? How do you know it’s not your wife trying it on with him?’

‘She’s not like that.’

‘Not like what?’ She waved a hand in his direction, indicating the dark trousers and white shirt. ‘You think you’re too good for people like us?’

‘No, that’s not—’

‘—I know your type, thinking you’re better than the rest of us in your suit and fancy shoes. Everyone’s shit smells the same, so don’t come here kicking off you jumped up wanker. You’re no better than me.’

‘I wasn’t trying to —’

The woman reached forward, pushing Charlie hard in the chest. ‘Now piss off and don’t come back.’

SEVEN: ESTHER

Esther could rarely remember being as angry as she was when Charlie arrived home. He couldn’t look her in the eye, mumbling something about the car owner not being in. ‘His girlfriend was home,’ Charlie said. ‘She wasn’t very helpful but the guy’s name is Dougie if that helps.’

‘Dougie?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Liz said the neighbourhood watch scheme is run by someone called that. It’s not the same guy, is it?’

Charlie paused, eyes narrowing. ‘There was a sticker in his window. I thought it was ironic at first…’

He tailed off. Could it really be true that the person responsible for what had happened to her was an upstanding pillar of the community?

Esther told him he shouldn’t have gone and then spent the rest of the evening working in the spare bedroom, not talking to him.

She didn’t know what frustrated her more – what he’d done or the fact she knew it would do no good. Charlie was only trying to stick up for her in the chivalrous way he sometimes did, but even if Dougie had been in, what was the best thing that could have happened? He was hardly going to say, ‘All right, pal, I’ll leave her be. It’s all a big misunderstanding.’

After a night of sleep interrupted by dreams of squealing rubber on tarmac, Esther was woken by the alarm on Charlie’s phone going off. He slapped at the screen until it went silent and then pushed himself up in the bed, apologising.

‘I was awake anyway,’ Esther replied.

Esther got dressed in the bedroom, waiting for Charlie to take a shower and get ready for work before they headed downstairs at the same time. He forged ahead, peering around the living room door and checking in the kitchen, with them apparently fearing the same thing.

When there was no sign of any damage, Charlie unlocked the front door, stepping out into the morning heat with Esther a little behind him.

There was no dumped rubbish or slashed tyres: only a sun-drenched driveway. They checked around the back, but there was nothing to see other than the long grass, slightly limp washing line and overgrown verges.

Esther felt a wave of relief as Charlie stood a little taller and pulled her towards him. She allowed him to hug her, neither of them needing to say how welcome the respite was.

Back inside, Esther made sure she ate some toast in front of Charlie. She could sense him watching her, making sure she wasn’t secretly discarding anything into the bin. It was something else she felt flattered by, yet resented at the same time. It was nice that he cared but she was an adult and could look after herself. She didn’t want the constant scrutiny. Telling him that would only make it worse, though, because he’d think she was trying to cover something up.