Jane Renshaw - Watch Over Me

Bang!

Bounces off the fucking safety glass.

I get it again and airch it at the same bit.

This time there’s a kind of a crunching and then a tinkling as all the wee bits of glass round where it hit shower down.

Ya dancer!

Out of pure badness I get another, a wee pirate with an eye patch, and airch it at the other door.

And then I get my arse outta there.

Flora stared at the policewoman. ‘Well, even if they do all have alibis… they could have got someone else to do it.’ The Johnsons were all at a wedding, apparently, and had been there since three o’clock that afternoon. ‘And it was definitely Travis Johnson this morning. Beckie and I both recognised him.’

The policewoman smiled patiently. ‘Travis Johnson’s whereabouts have been established from 8:30 am to 1:30 pm today. He was working in a garage – he works there on a casual basis doing tyre changes and so on. There are a dozen witnesses attesting to his having been at the garage all morning – both staff and customers.’

They were back in Caroline’s front room yet again, she and Neil and the policewoman; Beckie was asleep – Flora hoped she was, anyway – in Caroline’s spare room, with Caroline watching over her. In the morning, a team would be out to process the ‘scene’ of the ‘incident’ on the patio.

Caroline’s centre light fitting, a cheap branched thing in yellowy brass, cast a flat, harsh light over the room, turning the beige walls a stark white and bouncing off the glass of the one picture, above the fireplace, of wishy-washy poppies.

‘What garage?’ asked Flora.

‘I can’t tell you its name. But it’s a branch of a well-known dealership.’

Neil was looking not at the policewoman but at Flora. ‘You were pretty sure it was Travis Johnson.’

‘Yes, because it was him. The Johnsons have obviously got a hold of some sort over the people at the garage, if they’re not in cahoots…’

Neil raised his eyebrows. ‘All of them? And their customers?’

Whose side are you on? she wanted to yell at him.

‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ she said tightly.

The policewoman stood. ‘The team will be round to process the area around the patio in the morning. Please don’t touch anything there. They’ll phone to let you know they’re on their way. You’re not staying in the house tonight?’

‘I am,’ said Neil. ‘Flora and Beckie will sleep here.’

He had been adamant about this. Flora had felt awful for resenting him earlier in the day for not being here for them. When the patio doors had suddenly exploded, he had leapt into action, bundling her and Beckie into the loo with his mobile and telling her to lock the door and call the police, while he, despite her protests, had gone to investigate.

He’d been pretty good in this particular crisis.

Then, after the police had arrived and they’d decamped to Caroline’s, he had said he’d arrange for CCTV in the morning and take a few days off work to get it all set up.

At least, that had been the plan. But maybe the doubt sown by the Johnsons’ ‘alibis’ was going to change that.

When they’d shown the policewoman out, Caroline appeared in the little hallway.

‘She’s fine. Sleeping like a baby on benzos.’

But neither of them could take her word for it. They tiptoed into the darkened room and bent over the bed. Under the covers, in the big king-sized bed, she was so little , hardly there at all.

Flora gently smoothed the covers over her.

Back in the sitting room – Caroline had tactfully disappeared into the kitchen – Neil said, ‘Right. I’d better get back.’

‘I think you should stay.’

He shook his head. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘What, because you don’t believe the Johnsons had anything to do with it? You believe their so-called alibis?’

‘The police seem to think they check out, Flora.’

‘So it’s all just coincidence? Some random yobs, one of them the spitting image of Travis Johnson, decide to harass us in the street after my car mysteriously runs out of petrol, and another random yob decides to lob rocks through our doors?’

‘Well, you know, it could all be coincidence. I was thinking – remember the tulips getting vandalised a while back, and you suspected Mia? Maybe you were right. And maybe she thought it would be a laugh to throw stones at the glass doors. Or, I don’t know, how about Mr Rapist-Hyphen-Serial Killer? Wouldn’t put it past him to lurk in people’s gardens, getting up to mischief. We mustn’t automatically assume that anything bad that happens is down to the Johnsons.’

‘So I suppose this means no CCTV? And you’ll be going back to work tomorrow as if nothing has happened?’

‘No. I’m not going back to work, and of course I’m going ahead with the CCTV… Beckie’s pretty freaked out, isn’t she?’

‘Given that her psychotic biological family have just tried to force their way into our home, that’s hardly surprising.’

He sighed. ‘Nobody actually tried to get in… Look, I don’t think it’s a good thing to fill her head with –’

‘With what? Hysterical nonsense?’

‘I’m going back to the house. I’ll have my camera at the ready for any more dramas, don’t worry. And we’ll get the CCTV.’

‘Be careful,’ Flora managed to say as he left the room.

She almost hoped that something did happen tonight, that the Johnsons did come back while Neil was alone in the house… Almost, but not quite.

She took her phone from her bag, which she’d left perched on the arm of Caroline’s sofa. She’d had to buy a new phone – her old one had never turned up.

She would call Saskia and ask her if the Johnsons had ever used a garage before to provide them with alibis.

Caroline’s head appeared round the door. ‘I’m having a nightcap – a brandy. Want one?’

Three brandies and several unanswered calls to Saskia later, she was feeling woozy and weepy and all she wanted to do was go to bed and cuddle her little girl and forget about everything else.

Caroline made her a hot water bottle and gave her a hug as they said goodnight.

She had thought she’d drop straight off, but she had restless legs and arms and had to get up in the end so as not to wake Beckie with all her tossing and turning. In the harsh light of the sitting room she paced, back and forward in front of the fireplace and round the coffee table with its half-finished picture of a flock of parakeets; to the darkened window and back to the door. What was Neil doing, five doors down? Was he sitting up waiting for something he knew wasn’t going to happen? Or had he just gone to bed?

She was going to find out.

The front door was locked and she didn’t know where Caroline kept the key.

Back door?

Fumbling on the wall for the kitchen light switch, she banged a shelf and something fell off it to the floor with a clatter.

Ten seconds later Caroline was in the hall in ninja mode, eyes wide, hair on end, feet spread ready for action. Flora giggled, and then found she couldn’t stop.

‘Sorry,’ she gasped, as Caroline flicked on the light.

‘God’s sakes, Flora.’

The polka dots of the pyjama top Caroline was wearing were doing funny things to Flora’s eyes. She looked away. ‘I need to go back to the house. Just for ten minutes. Can you let me out?’

‘You must have had more brandy than I thought. Are you drunk?’

‘No!’

‘What do you want to go home for? Can’t it wait till morning?’

‘I want to see if he really is sitting up.’

Caroline folded her arms with a stern expression. ‘Oh, right. So if he is, you’re going to give him a heart attack. If he isn’t, the two of you will have another row, and where will that get you? Both of you zonked out tomorrow and no use whatsoever to Beckie.’