Watched: When Road Rage Follows You Home (31 page)

‘Did you report that?’

‘No, but—’

‘—How much of this dispute have you reported?’

‘It’s not a dispute – it’s them bullying us. We haven’t done anything to them.’

‘I understand that, so what I’m asking is how much of this has been documented? Have you called us to report it, or kept any sort of diary?’

‘No.’

DS Best shuffled the papers again. ‘But in this report I have from the officer who visited your house after the camera incident, it says that you were advised to keep a diary.’

‘We weren’t thinking of it like a neighbour dispute!’

Charlie’s raised, frustrated voice echoed around the small room. For a moment, he thought the officer was going to tell him to calm down, but instead, the sergeant leaned forward and took a sip of water.

‘Okay, so what happened when you got to Mr Jamieson’s house?’ DS Best asked.

‘I went into the house—’

‘—I’m going to stop you there. How did you get into the house?’

‘I knocked and Leah, Dougie’s girlfriend, opened the door.’

‘Did she invite you in?’

‘No.’

‘But you were in the house anyway?’

‘Yes… no… I don’t – I sort of pushed past her. I wanted to ask Dougie why he’d killed the cat. I wasn’t thinking – Esther was so upset and I wanted to protect her.’

‘Did you have any reason to know for certain that Mr Jamieson had killed the cat?’

‘Well, no – but he admitted it when I was in the house.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He knew the cat had been sliced open even though I hadn’t said it. I said something like, “Why did you kill the cat?” and he said “You could’ve sliced it open yourself”. He knew how it had died.’

‘But he only volunteered that information
after
you were in the house.’

Charlie could sense the solicitor anxiously tapping her foot next to him. He should have listened to her when she wanted him to shut up. It was far too late now.

‘Yes – only after I was inside.’

‘Did anyone else hear him confess?’

‘Only his girlfriend.’

‘Okay, so to clarify – to be absolutely clear – you knocked on the door, Leah answered, you pushed past her looking for Dougie. Is that correct?’

‘Yes.’

‘And how were you feeling?’

Charlie stopped, not expecting the question. ‘Erm, I don’t know…’

‘You must’ve been angry – you’d seen the dead cat, you’d gone running around in your work suit, you’d barged into someone else’s house…’

‘I suppose so.’

‘You suppose what?’

‘I suppose I was angry.’

DS Best nodded, letting it sink in. Letting the video recorder absorb it.

What an idiot.

‘What happened then?’ DS Best asked.

‘We were arguing. He said what I told you about the cat and I asked why he’d smashed down the For Sale sign—’

‘—Do you—?’

‘—No, I don’t know for sure it was him – but it was. Anyway, he said something like he wasn’t ready to stop playing with us yet and I… punched him.’

‘Where?’

‘In the face.’

‘So, again, to be absolutely sure for the record – you’re admitting you punched Mr Jamieson in the face?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he punch you back?’

‘No.’

‘And did he make any violent movements towards you that made you think you should defend yourself?’

‘No… not really. He sort of stands in this way that makes you think he might jump at you. It’s hard to describe unless you’ve seen it.’

DS Best paused again. He really was an expert at silences: small moments to let the enormity of the stupidity sink in.

‘What happened afterwards?’

‘I suppose I left.’

‘Mr Jamieson tells us that you stood in his hallway yelling, “Come on” at the top of your voice.’

The way he phrased it made it sound so ridiculous, even though that was exactly what had happened.

‘That’s probably true.’

‘Is it, or isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it’s true.’

There was another perfectly choreographed moment of silence before DS Best scraped his chair back.

‘Is there anything else you’d like to add?’

Charlie gulped, peering directly into the camera, knowing this was his moment. ‘Just that you don’t know what it’s like. He’s been terrorising my wife for weeks – following her, scaring her. Then he started with me. He put out these leaflets saying I was paedophile. I was suspended from work because of it. He put photos through our door that had been taken of us going about our days. They must have been following us all the time. We even went out for a meal and they turned up. It gets in your mind, it drives you mad.’

‘Do you still have the photos?’

‘No.’

‘Did you report that he was following her?’

‘No.’

‘Would you like to add anything else?’

Charlie tried to remain calm, not quite coming to terms with the situation. How had things got this far? Esther was the person who’d been affected the most – he’d failed her and now had to think of a way to redeem himself, without involving the police.

Another sigh: ‘No.’

THIRTY-NINE: ESTHER

Esther was boiling with fury. ‘So you
have
to live here?’

Charlie was sitting on the sofa, head down, staring at his feet as she stood over him. ‘It was the only way they’d give me bail. They said I had to live and sleep here.’

‘What have you been charged with?’

‘Common assault and threatening behaviour. The solicitor said I was lucky not to get some variation on trespassing as well.’

Esther dropped into the armchair. The anger felt better than the sorrow from before. She could feel it screaming through her, wanting to be let out. ‘What were you thinking?’

‘Clearly I wasn’t.’

‘Why did you hit him?’

Charlie cradled his head in his hands. ‘I don’t know: I was looking at the cat and saw red. I was trying to stand up for you.’

Esther clapped her hands sarcastically. ‘You hit him for me? Well thank you very much.’

‘You know what I mean.’

She replied with a huff. ‘I really don’t. I kept telling you to leave things be.’

Charlie leaned back, wiping his forehead and trying to make eye contact with her. ‘Can I say I’m sorry and move on? I can’t take it back now.’

‘What do you want to move on with?’

He tossed his palms up. ‘What do we do now? Are you still going back to your mum’s house?’

‘I’m not going to leave you here, am I?’

‘I probably deserve it.’

She wanted to stay angry but could feel the tug for sympathy. As he glanced up, she finally let him catch her eye and suddenly he was the clumsy student again, asking her about the sticky floor nine years ago. Esther breathed out and the anger went with it. If she was going to be furious with anyone, it should be Dougie and Leah.

‘You probably do – but I’m still not going to leave you alone.’

‘So what do we do?’

‘You call Alan and tell him what’s happened. Maybe you’ll be suspended again until after the case? I don’t know how it works. Assuming they don’t, you’ll have to carry on working. I’ll finish doing this place up and we’ll keep our heads down. If anything happens – anything – even the Mrs Itch letters, we’ll report it. We’ll report everything and keep doing it until the police can’t ignore us any longer.’

Charlie exhaled long and loud, his eyes closing and opening. ‘We probably should have done that in the first place.’

‘Maybe – but not many people are used to dealing with this kind of thing, are they?’

‘What are we going to do about… ?’

‘Did you see
him
at the station?’

‘Chief Inspector Jamieson?’

‘Who else?’

‘No – I don’t think you’re allowed to investigate cases involving your own family members.’

‘But the other officers will know who Dougie is, won’t they?’

Charlie shrugged. ‘Even so, I still hit him.’

Esther peered away, staring towards the back of the house and leaning back in the chair. She didn’t want to think about it. ‘I reported what happened to Patch. While you were away being interviewed, officers were here taking pictures. They took him away. I don’t know what’s going to happen because he wasn’t our cat.’

‘Did they say anything about knowing who did it?’

‘They said there’d been a spate of attacks on pets around here – but nothing as bad as that. I suppose we’ll find out at a later date.’

Charlie swallowed and looked away again. ‘Dougie has a load of knives in his shed. Big, vicious things.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I looked.’

Esther didn’t reply. She wished he hadn’t told her, partly because she didn’t want to think of Dougie having access to those weapons but also because she wanted to think that Charlie was as innocent as her in all of this. What he thought he was doing breaking into Dougie’s shed, she didn’t know. Or want to.

‘Call Alan and let’s see where we stand.’

The one half of the phone conversation Esther overheard didn’t sound too positive. Charlie slipped lower and lower into the sofa and must have used the word ‘sorry’ at least two-dozen times before he finally hung up.

He turned to Esther, face creased. ‘I can go back tomorrow. He had to go through the official policy book because he didn’t know – but apparently it’s only their policy to suspend if a case involves sexual assault or murder.’

‘It’ll be in the paper at some point.’

‘I know.’

‘Are you going to be all right?’

Charlie shrugged, which for a lump like him was quite the effort. He looked like he wanted the sofa to swallow him.

Esther crossed and sat on his lap, forcing him to sit up properly. She wiped a sticky, sweaty piece of hair away from his face and kissed him gently on the lips.

‘I’ve got an idea,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘You’re off, I’m off. Let’s have a normal day… well afternoon. Let’s pretend that we’re in our dream home and that we’re enjoying it. Okay?’

He smiled and kissed her back. ‘Okay.’

‘First you take a shower, though.’

After everything that had happened, from Dougie knowing where they were, to the assaults, the bullying, the following and everything else, the biggest impossibility was the thing that came true – they had a fabulously normal day together.

They dug out the final hedge and hauled it off to the tip. They went shopping and chose some wallpaper for the final room and then got a book of carpet squares. When they got home, Esther and Charlie cooked as a couple: him making some sort of chocolatey trifle thing that didn’t come off, her baking bread and grilling some fish and chicken to go with potatoes and vegetables.

Esther got dressed up in his favourite black dress for dinner and they shared a bottle of wine, ate, and lounged on the sofa in each other’s arms watching a repeat of
Groundhog Day
on television.

By the time the clock ticked around to eleven, Esther was half-asleep, exhausted from the emotion and intensity of the day. After the worst morning she’d ever known, they had somehow managed to have an incredible afternoon and evening. Mundane, average things to anyone else – but to them normal was good – as long as they were together. She ran her hands through Charlie’s hair and gently tickled his neck, whispering exotic thoughts in his ear and making him squirm. He tried to roll his way on top of her but she was having none of it, twisting her way out from underneath him, taking his hand, and leading him to bed.

FORTY: ESTHER

It felt like someone was trying to smash the house down. Esther leapt out of bed as the thumping on the front door continued. Her groggy eyes saw 06:29 on the clock. Charlie’s phone alarm hadn’t yet gone off but was due any moment. She feared the worst: Dougie, or some paedo-basher trying to ram their way inside.

Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang.

‘Open up, it’s the police.’

The letterbox clanged closed again as the man’s voice reverberated around the inside of the house.

Charlie hurried out of the room ahead of her, rushing down the stairs in a pair of boxer shorts and a single sock. Esther’s heart was thumping but for some reason she was focused on his bare foot as he ran in front of her.

She sat on the top step watching the front door open and an officer step inside.

‘Are you Charlie Pooley?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m arresting you on suspicion of attempted murder. You do not have to say anything…’

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Esther had never been inside a police station before. She’d watched a couple of television programmes: alcoholic detectives who apparently kept their jobs – as if that would happen. Gobby female officers who always saved the day – yeah right. Hundreds of violent crimes happening on remote islands and small communities – give me a break, pal.

Everything was a cliché but the reality was somehow better and worse.

The station was far cleaner than she thought. For some reason, she expected a police station to exist in some sort of browny, 1970s haze. The reality was that it was modern, well maintained, and full of people who were, well, normal.

It was also terrifying – the building reeked of authority and power in a way she hated and there was a constant chatter of voices and phones, people’s futures being debated and decided around every corner.

Esther sat in the interview room staring into the blinking red light of the camera. Her father had arranged a solicitor – a friend of a friend – who’d explained the trouble Charlie was in. It was impossible, incomprehensible, and yet here she was as possibly the only person who could clear his name. It wasn’t fair that she should hold that much power. One quavering voice could be seen as a lie, instead of nerves. One hesitation as a delay to give her time to come up with something that fitted, rather than the truth that memories didn’t just drop into the front of your mind at will.

The detectives introduced themselves as DS Best and DI Ling. Esther did her best to study them: the sergeant had a shaved head; the inspector was an older woman with a gravelly complexion and a voice to match. He seemed friendly, she didn’t. Perhaps that was the game?