Fantastic. “Luckily for you, Teddy and I are wonderful neighbours. We’re quiet, keep to ourselves and have plenty of sugar on hand.”
“I’m sure Ted Bundy said the same.”
I scoffed. “If anyone is making . . .serial killer” – I whispered out the side of my mouth, painfully aware of the seven-year-old at my back watching every moment of this exchange – “jokes, it should be me. You could annihilate Kinleith’s impeccable crime record in one fell swoop.”
His eyes burned into mine for a long moment, then he reached for the door handle. “Better lock the door behind me then.”
“I will.”
“Good.” With one last glance, he said, “Don’t get too comfortable in there.”
The second the door closed, I stared at it, trying to jump-start my brain the same way I would Daisy’s crappy engine. I flicked the lock into place with a shiver, quickly droppingmy hand. It was like the door had a pulse. Somehow, I just knew he lingered on the other side, glowering at me through the wood.
I’d need to drag a bookcase across it. Maybe nail it shut.
What a weird guy. I wasn’t exactly thrilled at this living situation either, but that had definitely been an overreaction.
Turning, I found Teddy exactly where I left her. Her expression serious but unsurprised at the latest bizarre turn in her life. “Cool feature, huh?”
“Is he going to kill us?”
“Of course not,” I huffed, heading for the front door, determined to start unloading some of the boxes while the rain held off. Then paused on the threshold. “You know how to phone 999, right?”
1
July
Isla
Isla: Hey Cameron, confirming playdate with Teddy on Saturday.
Isla: Let me know when you can, I need to arrange my shifts at Brown’s.
Isla: Can you let me know today?
“Wait, wait . . . my brother did what?”
“He put in a complaint to the landlord. Again,” I hissed, almost dropping the pie as I slid it from the oven. I frowned at the latticework. Crisp enough. A bit too brown . . . Maybe I should try rolling the dough a little thicker.
“What for this time?”
“Apparently I dry my hair too loudly.”
Heather Macabe’s loud laugh escaped through the phone I’d propped up on the kitchen counter with a chopping board. Her pretty features distorted by the three-inch crack in the screen I couldn’t afford to replace in this lifetime.
“It’s not funny. Every time I remember his last complaint, I reconsider burning these damn cottages to ground.”
Through the small screen, I watched her flit around her own kitchen, prepping lunch for her twin daughters Ava and Emily.
Before this March, Heather and I had been little more than passing acquaintances. Her daughters were in the same class as Teddy so we’d shared polite smiles at the school gate, a brief conversation at parents’ evening.
Then the first morning I’d dropped Teddy at school after Cameron ended things, I’d felt the stares from other parents. The whispered,Did you hear what happened? Apparently Cameron came home from work last week and completely blindsided her . . . They’ve been sleeping together for months . . . Gave her a week to find somewhere else to live . . . I always knew Cameron and Annabelle weren’t done, did you see the way they were flirting at the Christmas Eve carol concert? I don’t know how she didn’t see it. Makes you wonder if that’s why he was so keen to move home in the first place.
I’d kept my head high, willed my abused eyeballs not to fill with tears. Then Heather had been there. Her hand slipping into mine.
Turned out she’d been through a similar experience with her former husband, Mike. Not another woman, but a new job on the other side of the world.
From there we’d bonded quickly. Late-night video calls recounting the woes of selfish ex-partners and solo parenting. And my occasional complaints about her grizzly older brother.
