Watched: When Road Rage Follows You Home (26 page)

With seemingly nothing that he could say or do that could make her feel better, Charlie left Esther in the bedroom and used the laptop downstairs. He searched for as many of the items as he could remember seeing in Dougie’s shed, hoping at least one of them might be illegal. As it was, he was surprised by the sheer number of brutal weapons you were apparently allowed to own.

He couldn’t see any way around things. There had been the best part of a week where they’d done nothing to Dougie or Leah. If there was ever going to be a truce, then it would have happened then – but one of them had sent out those ‘paedo’ leaflets and then Leah had physically assaulted Esther.

They had two choices: leave the house, or fight back. Charlie’s first mistake was that he thought he could deal with things head-on by confronting Dougie and talking to him rationally. Clearly, that had been a huge error, given that it had only led to things escalating. What he should have done was copy his adversary – be smart and work in the shadows. Although Dougie had shouted after him the previous night, Charlie was pretty sure he hadn’t been spotted in the other man’s garden. What he was certain of was that someone like Dougie had to be involved in any number of underground activities. If he could discover something that would be evidence for the police, while keeping himself out of it, then perhaps there would be some escape from this nightmare.

With Esther insisting she didn’t want to leave the house, even though it was another glorious Saturday morning, Charlie decided to do something proactive. Their finances weren’t in the best of shape, and he hadn’t been paid yet, but their joint credit card did have a little leeway.

After checking that Esther was going to be all right by herself, and looking everywhere he could think of to make sure there weren’t any other tubs of pills lying around, Charlie headed out on foot. He was wearing a straw hat he’d bought for some fancy dress thing a few years back and a set of sunglasses just in case any of the neighbours were in the mood for a bit of paedo-bashing. Each morning, he drove past a cheap car-hire place on his way to work that was within walking distance. It was a bit of a long shot but he wasn’t exactly awash with ideas, so Charlie filled in the paperwork, paid on their card and then drove back to the estate.

He parked the small grey vehicle a little down the road from Dougie’s house, slumping into the footwell in front of the driver’s seat until he was practically kneeling. The brim of his hat was pulled down as if he was a tramp who’d crept inside to have a roof to sleep under.

The blue car was parked exactly where it always seemed to be, half on the drive, half across the pavement. Charlie watched as nothing happened for almost an hour. Just as the cramp was beginning to arch through his legs, there was finally movement. Dougie bounded out of the house, twisting to face over his shoulder and spitting a long string of swearwords towards whoever was inside. His attempt to slam the front door lost much of the anger involved because it stuck in the frame and needed to be heaved closed.

Charlie inched lower, fighting the pain in his thighs as Dougie kicked the blue car in frustration at whatever had gone on and then wrenched the door open, finally getting at least part of the anger out of his system by slamming it with a thunderous clang that echoed along the street. Moments later, the engine snarled to life before he reversed onto the main road and squealed away.

Everything happened so quickly that Charlie was left struggling to get back into the driver’s seat, fighting the aches and agony of being in such a cramped space. If the blue car was the growl of a lion, then the hire car was the mew of a kitten.

Charlie had to put his foot down to get around the corner in time to see Dougie accelerating in the distance. Cringing at the fact he was doing forty in a twenty zone, Charlie blazed around the next bend, relieved to see that the blue car had stopped at the junction to the main road. He nudged the peak of his hat down and slowed, pulling in directly behind Dougie and trying not to be noticed.

As he edged into traffic three cars behind Dougie’s, Charlie was fully aware how ridiculous it all was. He was almost thirty, yet here he was playing glorified cops and bloody robbers as if he was a kid. He didn’t even know what he was doing – should he be one car behind? Two? What was he even hoping to achieve? The things desperation made you do…

Dougie continued to drive erratically, overtaking cars on bends and openly talking on his mobile phone. Charlie tried to be as safe as he could but it was difficult in a glorified Lego cube on wheels, especially when the person he was following showed little regard for rules of the road, except to slam on his brakes at the sight of a speed camera.

After a few miles where Charlie felt increasingly stupid, Dougie pulled off the main road into the car park of a gym, weaving his way through the barriers and chicanes until he was at the back, next to a fire exit. Charlie followed but stopped a distance away, parking between two cars and sliding down into the footwell again. The glare of the sun on the windows of Dougie’s car made it difficult to see what was going on but Charlie shuffled from side to side until he had a clear-ish view.

Dougie was on his phone in the driver’s seat, waving an arm around animatedly as if trying to signal a plane to land. A minute or so later, the car’s door was thrust open and he clambered out, putting the phone away, leaning on the vehicle and drumming his fingers on the roof. As Dougie started to peer around the car park, Charlie slipped as far down as he could manage without losing sight. A few seconds later, the fire exit popped open and a chunky steroid-freak of a man bustled out, looking both ways and offering a meaty paw for Dougie to shake.

Charlie pressed his phone to the windscreen, fiddling with the camera settings and zooming in as tightly as he could as the men exchanged supermarket carrier bags. They talked amiably for a few seconds, giving Charlie a chance to get his photograph, before turning their backs to the rest of the car park. Moments later, the fire exit was closed and Dougie was back in the car, phone to his ear.

The pain in his thighs was too much to take any longer, so Charlie wriggled his way into the seat, doing his best to stay low while skimming through the photos he’d just taken. The pictures weren’t great – slightly out of focus and a little too distant – but there was a single snap that showed the other man’s face clearly. Charlie didn’t recognise him, not that he should, but had fantasies of it being some dodgy drug dealer. It didn’t take long for the reality to hit that if it was anyone of importance, then it would be unlikely they were so open about what they were doing.

Still, at least he was doing something. When he got home, he’d be able to log onto the police’s website and see if the man was someone on their wanted lists, perhaps even go through the crime pages of the local newspaper’s website and see if he could get a name. Anything was better than nothing.

The next stop-off was a supermarket around the corner. Charlie parked a dozen spaces away and waited as Dougie went inside, returning half-an-hour later with a car load of groceries. From there, he raced through multiple sets of traffic lights and roundabouts until they were on the road where it all began. Charlie sat three cars behind Dougie, glancing at the Sheep & Anchor sign on his right, remembering the way Esther had described her initial run-in. A few seconds either way, the tiniest twist of fate in a different direction, and they could have been living in their beautiful house, enjoying their lives.

Dougie turned into the hardware store, parking close to the entrance and walking inside, head down, still on his phone. Charlie parked next to a white van with the rear doors open, taking photos of the parked car for a reason he wasn’t entirely sure of. He tried to imagine what it must have been like for Esther to be trapped in her car with Dougie wheelspinning around her.

A few minutes later, Dougie emerged from the store, a heavy claw hammer in his hand. For good measure, he swung it through the air, not like he was hammering in a nail, more as if he was caving in someone’s head. Charlie snapped a couple more pictures, wishing that killing the invisible man was a crime. After four full-blooded swipes, Dougie tossed it onto the passenger’s seat and climbed back into the car.

A twenty-five minute wait while Dougie ate inside McDonald’s left Charlie thinking that he really was wasting his time. Flittering, irrelevant nonsense went through his mind that Dougie couldn’t have bought anything frozen at the supermarket, else it would have melted.

He really wasn’t cut out for this type of thing.

Dougie finally emerged, wiping his face and squinting into the sun. He plucked a cap from the back seat of his car and then threw himself inside. Charlie considered going home to check on Esther but, if he went now, he might miss something. If he was going to clutch at straws, then he could at least do it properly.

An hour of meaningless errands and driving later left Charlie outside of a three-storey house close to the town centre. Dougie had parked on the other side of the road and hurried into the park on foot, talking into his phone. Charlie resolved that this was the final place he was going to stop. Things weren’t just getting out of hand; they were already out of hand, on the floor and rolling in a corner of dirt. He should have stayed at home and made sure Esther was all right, perhaps thought up something realistic that would get them out of the mess, not run off chasing a mad plan, while spending more money they didn’t have.

Charlie got out of the car, patting his pocket to make sure his phone was still there. He dashed across the road, following the direction Dougie had gone in, over an ankle-high metal rail onto the path that ran around the park. Visions of Dougie doing drug deals in shady corners spurred Charlie on. Perhaps he was secretly gay and was cottaging in the toilets. He could get a photo and use it to blackmail the other man to leave him and Esther alone, or…

Stopping in the middle of the path, Charlie knew the entire exercise had been a waste. He wasn’t that type of person. Even if he had somehow stumbled across something incriminatory, he’d probably be too naïve to know what was going on. As for blackmail? He was never going to do that. He wasn’t devious enough, for one. He’d end up leaving his fingerprints on something, or telling the plan to someone he shouldn’t.

To be genuinely cruel, you had to have something within you that he didn’t.

Charlie turned, defeated, ready to return to the car. As he spun, he bumped into something solid, short and fleshy.

Dougie scowled upwards, lips bending into a grin. ‘Are you following me, pal?’

‘No, I…’

‘I didn’t think kiddie-fiddlers were allowed in parks.’

‘I’m not a…’

Dougie thrust a thick finger into Charlie’s chest pushing him backwards, nodding towards a group of parents with children close to a crop of bushes. ‘How about I go tell them how a dirty paedo is eyeing their kids up?’

‘I’m not a paedo.’

‘You keep telling yourself that, pal. In the meantime, if I ever catch you following me again, I’ll burn down your house with you and that bitch inside, you get me?’

Charlie stared at him, not knowing how to reply. As Dougie licked his lips, Charlie turned and ran back towards the car. What a fool he’d been.

THIRTY-TWO: ESTHER

‘…
On the seventh day God had finished his work of creation, so he rested
…’

Esther didn’t feel much like a god but resting on the seventh day was fine by her. Charlie was doing his best to try to get her out of the house, simultaneously checking to make sure she hadn’t squirrelled away numerous packets of pills for an overdose attempt. He was clumsier than she was at trying to make his actions appear as if they were perfectly normal. First he said they should flip the duvet and change the bedsheets, then he spent ten minutes in the bathroom rattling around the cabinets.

As for her window checks, the cure had been obvious all along – stop caring. If someone wanted to break in, let them. This didn’t feel like her home any longer anyway, let alone her area. Every time she closed her eyes, she could feel Leah’s spit running across her eyelid. That feeling of helplessness was worse than anything. The thought of going outside made her feel sick.

To offer a small concession, Esther did at least go downstairs, allowing Charlie to open the curtains a fraction. The daylight felt crippling, as if she was a vampire caught in its hold, about to crumble into dust.

They sat together watching a cookery show. In the past, Esther might have been noting down ingredients or thinking about ideas she could copy. Now, she couldn’t care less. In this house, she wasn’t living, she was existing.

The doorbell went but she didn’t move. It was a Sunday and it wasn’t as if they knew anyone, so it wouldn’t be good news whoever it was. With any luck it’d be some masked hoody kid with a firebomb and it’d put them all out of their misery.

Esther listened from the living to an all too familiar conversation.

Man’s voice: ‘Hi, is it Mr Pooley? I’m here to talk to you about double glazing.’

Charlie: ‘We’re not interested in changing our windows.’

Man: ‘So why did you book an appointment?’

Esther even felt sorry for the poor guy. He explained how far he’d driven, emphasising that it was a Sunday in case they’d lost track. Charlie was at his polite hotel manager best, firm but understanding. Esther could never have that patience, she’d have either caved and invited the guy in for a cup of tea and a biscuit and ended up buying a window or two because she felt sorry for him, or sent him packing in much more brutal terms.

Charlie pottered around the house doing whatever it was he did. Esther continued watching television. After the cookery show, there was something about politics she wasn’t interested in, then some religious thing. The only time she left the sofa was to go to the back window and peep into the garden, hoping Patch might be skulking around looking for food. For whatever reason, he never seemed to come around when Charlie was there, as if he sensed another male on his turf vying for attention.