Nell
PRESENT
The news that Damon Parker is still in prison is a huge shock.
But it doesn’t mean that he isn’t connected in some way to whoever is following me.
In fact, when I think about it, it makes sense that he’s using his last months in prison to find out where I am so that on his release he can come straight for me.
Despite what Superintendent Moss seemed to suggest, I don’t want to believe that my stalker isn’t anything to do with Damon Parker. The alternative is too frightening because if not him, then who?
I spend the next couple of days trying to focus on the good news, that the police are looking again into Bryony’s murder.
I don’t know what Damon Parker and his mother, and Brett Parker himself, told the police about his movements on the day of Bryony’s disappearance but whatever it was, it was enough to convince them that he wasn’t the man who picked up Bryony Sanders in his car.
But if the police were right and he wasn’t involved in her murder, why hasn’t her killer ever been found?
On Thursday evening, a ring at my doorbell sets my heart racing.
Friends never turn up at my door unannounced.
My mind whirs, searching possibilities. Best-case scenario, it’s Alex.
Maybe, unable to wait until the weekend to hear what it is that I want to discuss with him, he’s come from Paris without warning me, just as he did when he turned up outside my workspace after I found out about Caitlin. Worst-case scenario, it’s my stalker.
There’s another ring on the doorbell, followed by a shout “Nell! Are you there?” It’s not Alex’s voice but it’s one that I know yet can’t quite place. “It’s Marcus! I’d like to speak to you.”
Marcus. I slide off my barstool, relief washing over me. It’s only Marcus. Then doubt sets in—what is he doing here? Are Romy and Rob with him? But he’d said “I” not “we.”
I stand in the hall in paralyzing indecision.
Marcus will know that I’m in because the lights are on.
But I could be in the shower. I don’t have to answer the door.
If I ignore him, he’ll leave. If it’s important, he’ll call me.
Why didn’t he call me anyway and tell me that he wanted to speak to me, instead of coming all the way to the house and risk me not being in? Something doesn’t add up.
But—what if something terrible has happened and he needs to speak to me face-to-face? I’ve never seen Marcus without Romy and Rob by his side. What if something has happened to them?
“Nell!” Marcus calls again. “I really need to speak to you.”
His evident agitation decides me. My heart in my mouth, I open the door. It takes me a while because of the new locks.
“Hi.” Marcus lifts his hand in a little wave.
“Are Romy and Rob all right?” I ask.
“What? Yes, they’re fine. Can I come in?”
I don’t want to let him in but he’s already moved forward so I have no choice but to open the door wider. He comes into the hall, his presence making it feel crowded.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” he asks. “The kitchen, perhaps?”
He moves down the hall and I hesitate before closing the front door, aware that I’ve let a man I don’t know very well into my house and that by shutting the door, I’m cutting off my only escape route, effectively sealing myself inside with him.
I close the door anyway, because I can’t leave it open, and follow him to the kitchen, feeling horribly vulnerable.
“Shall we sit?” he says, as if the house is his.
I’m about to be polite and ask him if he wants to take off his bulky wax jacket.
But I stop myself, not wanting him to get too comfortable, or take it as invitation to stay.
Increasingly uneasy, I pull out the barstool nearest to the worktop so that I can grab a knife from the block if I have to.
A part of me laughs at myself. Marcus is harmless.
He sits down opposite me, then gets to his feet again.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he says, his agitation back. “Romy wanted me to tell you weeks ago but I couldn’t find the courage.”
My heart sinks, fearing a declaration of love. “You’d better make it quick,” I say, finding a smile to lessen the hurt I’m going to cause him. “Alex will be phoning me any minute now.”
Alex’s name seems to confuse him. He begins pacing up and down. “Oh,” he says. “Right.” He takes a deep breath. “Here goes.”
“Could you sit down and tell me?” I ask, wanting him where I can see him.
“Yes, of course, sorry.”
I wait for him to settle but my interruption has cost him his nerve. His mouth is clamped tightly shut.
“Alex will be here on Friday,” I say into the silence, hoping that mentioning his name again will deflect Marcus from talking about how he feels about me.
His mouth unclamps. “I’ve bought the house opposite yours,” he blurts out.
It’s so far from what I was expecting him to say that I think I must have misunderstood.
“I’m sorry—what did you say?”
“I’ve bought the house opposite yours, over there.” He waves a hand in the direction of the front of the house. His face, from being slightly ashen before he spoke, has turned bright red.
“But—why?”
“Because I’ve been wanting to move and I was looking for something a bit like yours and it came on the market so I just went for it.”
I know I look appalled but I can’t help it. I would have preferred a declaration of love because then I could have refused his advances. Here, I’m powerless. He’s not asking if I mind if he buys the house right opposite mine, he’s telling me that he’s already done it.
I blink rapidly. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I realize it must be a bit of a shock,” Marcus says, shifting on the barstool. “Romy said I should speak to you about it before I signed but I was worried you’d tell me you didn’t want me living opposite you.”
I don’t! I want to say. It’s not just dismay I feel but confusion. There must have been other properties he could have bought if he wanted to live in the area.
“I did look at other properties,” he says, as if he’s read my mind. “But I didn’t want a flat and other houses were too expensive for me. I’ve always loved your house and I wanted an outdoor space and mine has a tiny garden out the back, so that clinched it for me, really.”
His use of the word “mine” hammers home that it’s a done deed. There is nothing I can say to change what has happened.
“I’m surprised you’ve chosen to move so far away from Romy and Rob,” I say, a little savagely. “You’ve always been such a threesome.”
He smiles. “It’s one of the reasons I wanted to move. We work together and then I would always be bumping into them when I was out and about, and they’d invite me round because I’m on my own and well, I wanted to kind of remove that obligation from them.”
“Alex is moving in with me,” I say, underlining that, unlike him, I am not on my own. “In the New Year. He’s going to be spending most of his time here.”
Marcus gives a slow nod. “Right. By the way, that evening, Rob’s birthday, when I saw Alex through your window, I didn’t really come to see if your work event had been canceled.
I was visiting the house for a second time with the estate agent.
” He pauses. “When I told Romy and Rob that I’d made an offer, Romy said I should be up-front with you.
I promised I would be, which is why I went and bought champagne when we came to yours for dinner.
But I chickened out. There was always a chance that the sale wouldn’t go through so I decided to wait until it was definite. ”
“And now it is,” I say.
“Now it is,” he echoes.
I get to my feet. “Right, thanks for telling me.”
He looks surprised at my dismissal and I wonder if he was expecting me to take out a bottle of wine and celebrate with him.
“When will you be moving in?” I ask, as we move into the hall.
“Beginning of January, hopefully.”
I open the front door. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Definitely.”
I close the door behind him, wait until I’m sure he’s out of earshot, then burst into tears.
A part of me, a very small part, wonders if I’m overreacting.
Most people would be happy to have a friend living across the road.
But I’m not most people and Marcus isn’t a friend, he’s a friend of a friend.
I’ve never spent any time alone with him, nor do I want to.
When I remember how his face had dropped when I’d mentioned that Alex would be moving in with me, my anger resurfaces.
Had he really thought that we’d hang out together, sharing cozy suppers and film evenings?
A message comes in, from Romy.
I hear Marcus has told you his news.
I can’t bring myself to reply. I’m angry with Romy for not giving me a heads-up.
If I’d had advance warning, I could have tried to put Marcus off, told him that it wasn’t a great place to live, that drug pushers lined the street at night and knife crime was a common occurrence.
But I hadn’t known the house was for sale.
I pour myself a glass of wine and spend a moment analyzing why I’m so against the idea.
If Romy and Rob had bought the house, I’d have been delighted.
And if a stranger had bought it, I wouldn’t have cared.
It’s Marcus, I decide. There’s something about him that I’ve never quite been able to put my finger on.
I put down my glass, go to the sitting room and part the curtains so that I can see the house across the road.
It’s in darkness, as are the houses on either side of it; only the next house along has a light on downstairs.
A movement catches my peripheral vision and I swing my eyes back to the house opposite mine.
There’s someone there, I’m sure of it, standing as still as stone against the wall, as if they’ve been caught unawares and are trying to blend into the background.
For a moment I want to rush to the front door and yell across the street at him.
But I prefer to let Marcus think that I haven’t noticed him lurking there—although lurking is probably a bit harsh.
It is his house, after all, and after my total lack of enthusiasm it’s not surprising he feels awkward being seen there. But I refuse to feel guilty.
By the time I’ve had a second glass of wine, I’ve found the perfect solution.
Much as I’ll be sad to leave the house left to me by my great-aunt, I’ll sell it.
I have the perfect excuse; with Alex moving in with me, we’ll need more space.
He’ll probably need an office and if we have a baby, the house will definitely be too small.
It would be better to move into something larger now, a home we choose together, a home that will be ours, rather than mine.