Sinead’s hand gripped the banister. She wanted to storm into Imogen’s room and have it out with her. A showdown had been building for a long time. Sinead took a deep breath. Not now. Don’t cause a scene in front of Dylan. Just go. Sinead turned around and went back downstairs. Grabbing the bike’s handlebars, she lifted it over the step and wheeled it along the path. It was so confusing – why were they acting like this? And what had happened to Heidi? She’d promised she’d be back from Tim’s to see her off. It was like she was checking out of a hostel, not the home they’d shared for over three years.
Dylan was crouching over in the back of the van, rearranging suitcases, bags, boxes, and easy chair. He looked up as Sinead wheeled over her bike.
‘Sorry about that…’ she said and almost started to make excuses: Imogen hasn’t been sleeping well lately, she’s not normally like that. But why should she defend her?
Dylan made a not bothered face before pushing a cardboard box along the floor with his foot. He didn’t seem concerned. Maybe it was his habitual weed-smoking or just his easy-going nature, but nothing seemed to faze him. He picked up a grey carryall crammed with toiletries, and repositioned it by the side panel. ‘All set then?’ he asked.
‘Guess so.’
‘Don’t get too excited.’ He winked cheekily as he took the bike from her, lifted it up, and then looked for somewhere to put it.
‘No, I am. I am excited… it’s just… Heidi said she’d be back to say goodbye and… they’re really not bothered, are they? They actually couldn’t care less that I’m going.’
Dylan struggled to position the bike someplace where it wouldn’t fall down. ‘Girls, eh? What you gonna do?’ Sinead watched him rearrange the belongings. ‘Should’ve put this in first,’ he muttered.
Stepping back to the kerb, Sinead looked wistfully at her old home. This was it then. The end of an era. No, please don’t stand there waving – you’ll make me cry. She grimaced at her private joke. Maybe she shouldn’t take it so personally; the girls had never been as sentimental as she was.
Up the road, Joel was sauntering along, a black plastic bag in one hand and chatting on his phone. Chatting to Imogen. Sinead really didn’t want to say goodbye to him again; that would be beyond awkward.
She slapped the van’s side panel. ‘All right then – let’s do this.’
5
He presumed she’d be in a car or van. Taxi, possibly. He had been awaiting Sinead’s arrival for the past forty minutes, standing off to the side at the front bay window, observing the quiet street. What concerned him in particular was whether or not she would be accompanied by anyone. Most likely there would be a helper; a driver or friend to carry the heavier items. He could cope with one other person. But what if she brought parents or brothers and sisters? That would pose a challenge.
He’d questioned his judgement repeatedly during the last week. This was, without a doubt, one of the riskiest decisions he’d ever made. Inviting a complete stranger to move into his home! It was sheer madness. Thankfully, experience had taught him to be cautious in an unpredictable situation. The priority was collecting the cash. Once he had that, he’d decided to withdraw for a few days. Removing himself would allow time for a thorough risk assessment before committing to any further interaction.
Why on earth had he let this happen? There was more to it than just the money, despite his rather dire financial straits; after all, he could have acquired someone’s credit card or jewellery to fund the next few weeks. No, it wasn’t just about the money. This peculiar girl was quite beguiling.
After much contemplation, it had occurred to him that he must be horrendously bored. And lonely – there was always that – the thing he most despised in himself, his weakness being a chronic need for companionship. It had got him into trouble many times in his youth, condemning him to an itinerant lifestyle. Attempts at friendship had always ended the same way; having to up sticks and find somewhere else to live. He had resolved never to get close to anyone again.
Yet here he was, waiting at a window for a new person to enter his life. Who was this girl, this Sinead Woods? He still couldn’t recall where or when they had met. It was driving him up the wall. When he remembered he would know what to do with her. His instincts told him she wasn’t a threat; he was fairly confident she wasn’t connected to anyone he had ever killed. He made a point of remembering those people. Perhaps she’d sat an exam he had invigilated at somewhere other than Reading.
Something she’d said last week had stayed with him: I promise you, before you know it, we’ll be just like best mates. Obviously, she was buttering him up, but he wondered if she was the kind of person who made idle promises.
A white transit van turned into the driveway. He took three steps back from the window and prepared himself. The van pulled up behind his metallic grey Saab. He went to the front porch and checked his reflection in the wall-mounted mirror, hearing the van’s tyres crunching over gravel. A starched shirt collar protruded nicely from his beige cashmere sweater. He brushed dandruff off his shoulders, then patted his wispy fringe into place. The van’s engine ceased and its doors were creaking open. Two doors and what sounded like two pairs of feet. He practised his welcoming smile and reminded himself to blink. He approved of the man looking back at him: an affable landlord greeting his new lodger.
He opened the porch door and saw Sinead heading towards him. The van’s other occupant must have gone to open up the back.
‘We’re not too early, are we?’ said Sinead.
‘Not at all. Perfect timing.’ He stuck out his hand. ‘Welcome to your new home.’
Sinead placed her hand in his and he shook it quickly. He noticed the look of excitement on her face, then looked over her shoulder to see a lanky youth ambling over. Sinead made the introductions.
‘Dylan’s a friend from work. Dylan, this is Elliot.’
‘All right? Nice to meet ya.’ The boy offered his hand so he gripped it in return.
‘Likewise, I’m sure.’ He held onto Dylan’s hand for just a moment longer than was necessary, checking to see how he’d react to his dominant grip. He looked into the youth’s eyes: he wasn’t intimidated, but neither did he try to assert himself.
Dylan pulled back his hand. ‘I’ll crack on then,’ he said to Sinead and returned to the van to begin unloading.
Turning to Sinead, Elliot said, ‘I hope you don’t think me rude, but I shall have to leave you to settle in on your own.’
‘Oh, okay. Yeah, sure.’ She seemed pleasantly surprised.
‘I’m away for the next few days. Business, unfortunately.’
‘In that case, I’d better give this to you now.’ She removed a bulging Manila paper envelope from her backpack and presented it to him. ‘You can count it; it’s all there.’
‘I don’t doubt it. Besides, it’s not as if I don’t know where you live.’
Sinead laughed politely. He removed a set of keys from his trouser pocket. ‘You’ll be needing these.’ He placed them in her open palm. Sinead thanked him, put them in her jacket pocket, and pulled out another set of house keys.
‘Oops… I forgot to give these ones back,’ she said, bumping the keys up and catching them. Dylan approached, carrying a battered box.
‘Where d’you want this?’
‘My room’s the one on the…’ said Sinead, looking to her new landlord for a reminder.