Chapter 7 #3
But maybe talking about it is exactly what I need to do.
‘His name was Peter Harvey,’ I begin. ‘We taught at the same school. He was a PE teacher. The kids all loved him. Teachers did, too. Before that, I’d had lots of people I considered friends at work.
We were always out socialising. Until they all took his side.
He was such a good liar – he manipulated everyone.
’ My throat becomes sandpaper. ‘I think only I could see through him. There was something too perfect about him, like it was all for show. He really took a disliking to a boy in Year 6. Used to moan about him all the time. Then one day I walked past the hall and he was telling this child off. Really shouting at him. The poor boy was distraught but tried to argue back, and . . . Peter lost it and punched him in the stomach.’ I wince at the memory of the little boy as he doubled over, wailing.
‘I ran in and tried to help him, but Peter denied anything had happened and the boy was too traumatised to say anything. I reported him to the head and the police were called. It took about a week, but eventually the boy admitted he’d been punched. ’
Giles shakes his head. ‘Wow. I can’t believe that would happen in this day and age. Back in my day, yeah, maybe. But now?’
‘I know. Peter Harvey threatened me and tried to smear my name. Told everyone he wanted me gone because I wanted the deputy-head role that was about to come up and he was my competition. But it was rubbish! I never wanted that job.’ Now that I’m talking, the words won’t stop, and it feels good to let them out.
‘He’d turn up wherever I was, just to let me know he wouldn’t let this go.
And then . . . we think he’s the one who broke into our flat and attacked me.
’ I shudder as I say this, not from memory but from seeing myself in that video.
‘Well, look at you now,’ Giles says. ‘Standing strong. Undefeated. You really are an inspiration, Ria. I want everyone here to know that. Whatever you think you saw the other night, it doesn’t take anything away from you.’
I open my mouth to protest, but Giles beats me to it.
‘What our minds conjure up is out of our control, isn’t it?
Listen,’ he says, gesturing to Willow, who is nestled by my feet.
‘As Leo might be late back tonight, or not at all, why don’t you have Willow with you?
She’s good company. And you’ve still got her bowls and everything she needs. ’
My annoyance dissipates. ‘Are you sure? Don’t you need her company, too?’
He leans down to give Willow a stroke. ‘Yes, I do. Especially since Moira died. The only thing that gave me any comfort was Willow. She missed my wife as much as I did, I think. We got through it together.’ He stands up straight.
‘Maybe you remind Willow of Moira. If that’s even possible with dogs.
She’s definitely attached to you.’ He smiles.
‘But please have her tonight if you want to.’ He pats Willow’s back.
‘I’ll pick her up in the morning. I’ll probably fall asleep right away – it’s been a long day.
And as you’re heading off, it will give Willow some peace while we carry on with the barbecue. ’
‘Thanks, Giles. I’ll just finish my burger and then I’ll get home.’
He nods. ‘Thanks for coming, Ria. And if you ever want to chat, my door is always open.’
I watch him walk away and feel some tension leaving my body.
The more I’ve spoken to Giles, the more I warm to him, and sharing our stories has helped us to bond.
It’s clear that he holds sway with everyone in Silverleaf, so I’m not doing badly to get him onside, even if he doesn’t believe that I saw anything that night.
Despite the overwhelming exhaustion in my body, I’m still awake at 1 a.m., trying to lose myself in a comedy series on Netflix, hoping it will make me forget everything that’s happened over the last couple of days.
But I feel no joy as I watch, only the creeping sense of dread that refuses to leave.
While Willow sleeps on the rug in front of the sofa, I walk to the window and peer through the blinds.
I’m not expecting to see anything, but it’s a nocturnal habit I can’t kick now.
Perhaps it offers me peace of mind to know that everything is silent and still outside; nothing out of the ordinary.
No one being strangled right in front of me.
Everything is as it should be. Until I see Giles’s door open, and Eleanor steps outside, scurrying across the path to her house.
It’s strange that she’s been there this whole time, when the barbecue ended hours ago.
I continue watching as she hunts in her bag for her key, then glances around before opening the door and disappearing inside.
Unsure what to make of this, I lie on the rug next to Willow and give her a cuddle before I head upstairs to bed, my mind scrambling to reach a conclusion about what Eleanor was doing and why she was acting furtively.
No lights were on in any of the houses, nobody but me a witness to her slipping out of Giles’s house so late.
And I already know that the cameras can’t be trusted.
If people want to, there’s a way to use technology to their advantage.
When I open my eyes, bright sunlight streams through the blinds, disorienting me. I can’t have slept through most of the night – that never happens. Yet it’s nine minutes past seven, so clearly, I have.
My phone pings with a message – Leo telling me there were complications with the surgery so he’s still at the hospital. I get out of bed and wander downstairs, surprised that Willow isn’t already up. But I’ve never had a dog, so don’t know much about their sleeping habits.
In the kitchen, I see her stretched out by the bifold doors, lazing in a sun spot.
‘Shall we have breakfast?’ I say, reaching for her bag of food.
‘We can go outside and eat. It’s going to be another hot one today, so we should get some fresh air before it gets too hot for you. And you’ll need a walk, won’t you?’
Willow doesn’t respond. Doesn’t move. With a sickening feeling like lead in my stomach, I realise that she’s too still – there’s no rise and fall of her body, no twitch of her ears. I rush over to her and kneel down, gently trying to rouse her. But still she doesn’t move.
My scream echoes around the empty house.