The People Next Door

Prologue

The moment I turn my key in the lock, I know something’s wrong.

As I open the door, I realise it’s because there are no lights on.

It’s dusk outside and I can’t see much in here.

I was hoping that my daughter would be in because I need to give her a big hug.

I’ve missed her. ‘Hello, I’m home,’ I say.

Maybe she’s in her room with her headphones on.

She might not be able to hear me. I hurry upstairs to check but she’s not there.

That’s when I spot a note on her bedside table.

My heart bangs hard as I creep towards it.

Gone to hang out at Clover Lane woods with a mate. Be back in a couple of hours.

She’s dated it at the top, like she always used to do in her school homework diary.

That date is two days ago. My banging heart is trying to burst out of my chest. Clover Lane – with a mate – I know the girl my daughter is referring to and I expressed that I didn’t want her to hang around with that so-called friend anymore.

I grab the home phone and call the girl’s house but no one answers.

She must be staying at their house and…where’s my husband?

He said I could trust him and that he’d stopped drinking, but the emptiness of the house tells me that he’s failed in his promise.

He said he’d take care of her while I got myself better.

I stroke my belly and feel a twinge of pain.

I thought I’d done the right thing by going away for a short while.

I needed to do it for the little life growing inside me.

After snatching my bag from the hallway, I start running towards the girl’s house.

I told my daughter she was never to go into those woods because a man died there in a wooden shack that everyone calls the den.

The neighbours are outside, some check their post boxes, others are walking dogs.

They can see I’m flustered. ‘Can you help me?’ I go to speak to them but they brush me off like I’m something disgusting that they don’t want to touch.

I only wanted to ask them if they’d seen her.

I start jogging down the drive of her friend’s house.

The lights are on which means when I called there must have been someone home.

A sharp pain stabs at my stomach again. I reach down to support my belly and in doing so I trip on an uneven slab; I fall with a thud and hit my head on the porch step.

I don’t know how long I’ve been unconscious but I prise my eyes open and there’s a woman staring down at me.

‘My daughter, is she with your daughter?’ I’m slurring and my vision prickles.

I place my hand over my stomach, knowing that landing like that has hurt me in more ways than one, but I swallow the lump in my throat, not wanting to believe anything bad has happened.

She’s going to tell me that my daughter is in her house and all will be okay.

‘You should go home. You’re making a fool of yourself.’

‘My daughter…’ I want to see that she’s okay or, if not, we need to call the police but this woman is staring at me. I can’t get my words out. It’s like I’m choking on them.

‘I know what kind of mother you are, your daughter talks, you know. You need to go home and sort yourself out. You’re an embarrassing mess.’

Tears slip down my face. Pain sears through my stomach so I grip it and yell, ‘Call the police, please, and I need an ambulance.’ I don’t know if all that came out right. ‘My daughter…my baby…where is she?’

‘I’ll call you an ambulance,’ she says coldly.

I can’t stop my sobbing. I tried my best. I tried to do better.

As I slip into unconsciousness, I hear her voice again but this time it sounds like I’m under water.

I don’t know if it’s the woman speaking or someone else, or did I imagine it?

It sends chills through me. I’m sinking.

The world is going black again and I can’t stop it. I will never forget those words.

It’s all your fault. If you never see her again, it’s because you are a bad mother. You bad, bad, mother.