The Perfect Neighbours. Rachel Sargeant
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Название: The Perfect Neighbours
Автор: Rachel Sargeant
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика
isbn: 9780008276737
isbn:
“I’m looking forward to getting to know Germany.”
“Germany. But not the school?” He shook his head. “It’s okay you mustn’t explain. I work there also, IT support, but I live here in the village. My name is Sascha Jakobsen.” He had an accent, although he pronounced “village” with a v rather than the w favoured by most Germans trying out the English word.
He pushed the wet fringe out of his eyes. A tiny wave of something unexpected rippled through Helen’s body. He was waiting for her to introduce herself but to talk for longer would stop them being strangers and she sensed danger in that.
“Bye then,” she said, preparing to glide away.
“Tschüs,” Sascha said. He walked towards the changing room.
Helen launched both arms over the water and dolphin-kicked her legs. He wasn’t the only one who could swim butterfly. She wondered whether he was watching her but told herself to stop.
When Gisela went to get the second bottle of Sekt from the kitchen, she saw Sascha on the balcony. He was hanging out his trunks and towel. It wasn’t that long ago he would have left them in his bag on the floor, expecting that his washing would reappear clean and dry on his bed. But he no longer expected that of his mother; he no longer expected much of her at all.
He turned round, and she darted into the lounge. With the first bottle already inside her, she had to grab the doorframe to keep herself upright. She fell into an armchair and hid the new bottle under a cushion. She lit a cigarette and inhaled so hard that she hacked up phlegm.
He put his head round the door on the way to his bedroom. “Hallo, Mama.”
Gisela coughed again, for longer this time. The two of them inhabited the same apartment but different worlds. He never greeted her, so why now?
She felt for the neck of the bottle under the cushion. Her mouth was so parched it hurt but she couldn’t open the Sekt because he’d hear the cork pop. She crept over to the Schrank wall unit and eased out the bottom drawer. Verdammt! The vodka wasn’t there and neither were the miniature fire water bottles she’d bought at Lidl. Sascha! She should hammer on his door and demand an explanation. I’m the parent here. But when she heard his door open, she jammed the Schrank drawer half shut.
“I’ll make coffee,” he said, coming in to help her with the drawer. He slid it back into place and left the room, whistling.
She slumped into her chair. Heilige Maria Mutter Gottes (Holy Mary Mother of God), since when did this scowling young man whistle? Judging by the wet swimming things, the Freibad must have opened for the season. Perhaps he was exhilarated after exercising in the fresh air. Good. He spent too much time brooding in his bedroom or in the car.
He came back into the room, smiling, and she felt a pang of fear. “Have you been to the school?” she asked.
His face hardened. “Why would I go there?”
“I just thought …”
“What did you just think?”
“Nothing. How was your swim?”
“I met a woman.”
“Oh?” There’d been no one since Julia, since he’d cancelled dates with her to park outside the metal fence of the Niers International School instead.
His face remained hard but he said: “She’ll be useful, maybe open doors for me.”
Helen got home on a high after the swim, her blood buzzing with exercise hormones. And then the drudgery of her new life settled on her shoulders. She spent the afternoon signing up at the school library. She had trouble tracking it down; for all its solid frontage, the school had camouflaged its library in a Portakabin at the back of the campus. Eighties temporary units neglected into permanence.
She found the Elementary School’s second-hand uniform shop first and went in to ask for directions. Sabine, the school nurse, was working behind the counter. Helen laughed and asked her if she did every job in the school.
“I’m usually only here on Friday. It should be the head’s wife’s shift today but she has a breakfast party. Do you know Louisa?”
Helen’s whole face clenched. Of course, Louisa volunteered in the school shop. She thanked God that the wives’ breakfast had given her a narrow escape.
“I know her slightly,” she said. She turned to leave but noticed a pretty velvet top hanging from the rails.
“Try it on,” Sabine said. “We don’t just sell second-hand uniforms, we have clothes for everyone. It was Louisa’s idea.”
Helen dropped the blouse sleeve as if it was on fire.
***
When she finally found the library, the assistant told her she had to get her membership form signed by her husband before she could borrow any books. “You’re his dependant. School rules.” Helen stuffed the form in her pocket and stormed outside, silently vowing to order her books from Amazon.
“I’ll come to yours at eight.” A voice she recognized was coming from the other side of the Portakabin.
Damian Howard. For once she’d be pleased to see a neighbour, this one in particular. As head teacher, he could make the stupid library assistant give her a ticket. But she stayed out of sight when she realized he was on the phone.
“I can only stay an hour … Shelly, Sweetheart, please. It’s better than nothing … You know I do. I can’t wait …” His voice was getting nearer.
She moved away briskly in case he came round the corner. Something told her Shelly Sweetheart wasn’t a pet name for Louisa.
***
Later, back at home, she wanted to plant up the front flower bed with the marigolds she’d bought from Aldi but, when she peered out of the kitchen window to check the street was clear of nosy neighbours, she saw Damian and Chris in conversation by Chris’s car.
There wasn’t a day that went by when Chris, or Mel, didn’t polish the sport car’s paintwork. A wave of irritation came over Helen: Gary was still at school whereas Chris was long since home.
And Damian was home too. Head teacher and family man, who made private calls in work time. She’d wait until he’d gone back to his side of the road. The thought of making social chit-chat with him made her sick.
But she stayed at her window, watching. Damian faced Chris, his fists clenching while Chris ignored him in favour of washing the car. Helen was turning into a curtain twitcher and she hated herself for it. But she was fascinated. There was no sign of the peace and harmony СКАЧАТЬ