Moving On (2011) Page 5

  ‘I asked if this often happens, Ms Peel?’

  ‘It’s never happened before. Not once.’

  ‘Well, I’ve rung the police and they’re sending a car.’

  There was a shrill whistle outside and when they looked, they saw the group of youths running away.

  ‘That’s got rid of them,’ he said. ‘But unfortunately they’ve already driven away several potential buyers. We should definitely have waited for a mass auction at a hotel.’

  The police stayed for a while, then drove away again. Within minutes the group of youths had re-formed and the jeering and taunting had begun again.

  As she watched, Craig got out of a new vehicle and stopped to watch the group drive another car away. He smiled. Smiled! It was the satisfied smile of a cat who had just caught a bird. She’d seen it before when he got the better of someone.

  He continued to smirk as he went across to the garage, and stopped at the entrance, turning round to watch and smile even more broadly as another car stopped, then drove away.

  That’s when she knew he had set this up. He’d boasted of other dirty tricks against rivals during the last two years of their marriage, and it’d been something they argued fiercely about, because he felt any tool was permissible as long as you won ‘the game’.

  After the arbitrator awarded the house to her, Craig had told her he’d get it at his own price before they were through, but of course, he hadn’t said that in front of witnesses.

  She went down to the auction, something she’d not intended to do, but she felt she had to face up to Craig, even though her stomach was churning and she felt literally sick with anxiety.

  There were only six people sitting there, including him. She went to stand at the far side, arms folded across her chest, feeling numb, unable to believe this was happening.

  Outside the jeering and shouts grew suddenly louder and there was the sound of another car driving away. Craig smiled at her and drew an imaginary tick in the air, confirming her suspicions.

  The auctioneer fiddled with his papers.

  The sale began and the first bid was made by Craig, a very low bid indeed, even less than the amount he’d offered her after their divorce.

  There followed a series of increasing bids, but the buyers sounded half-hearted and nothing came even close to her reserve price. In the end, the house was turned in unsold at well below her reserve price.

  As the auctioneer was clearing up his papers, speaking in a low voice to the estate agent, Molly walked to the front and told them baldly, ‘I’m not going below the reserve, so don’t waste your time trying to persuade me differently.’

  ‘We’ll . . . um, see what happens,’ the estate agent said.

  As she walked outside, Craig stepped forward to bar the way. ‘Since when have those louts been hanging around?’

  ‘Since someone paid them to disrupt the auction, I suppose.’

  ‘You’ll never sell the house at this rate. Look, as a special favour, I’ll up my bid to what I offered you before.’

  ‘Do you think I don’t realize the game you’re playing?’ Suddenly her anger boiled over. ‘I’ll burn the house down myself before I accept an offer like that from you. I swear that!’ She had the satisfaction of seeing his mouth fall open in surprise.

  But his scornful expression soon returned. ‘Don’t be so bloody melodramatic. You know very well you’d never do any such thing.’

  It was her turn to smile. ‘Actually, I meant that quite literally. About burning it before selling to you.’

  Uncertain how long this frozen feeling would allow her to control her emotions, she moved past him and went back into the house.

  When she turned to close the door, she saw him striding along the path towards her and slammed the door in his face, then ran through the house to lock the back door as well. She didn’t want to speak to him again, was shaking now with reaction.

  Craig rang the doorbell a couple of times, but she didn’t answer. Eventually he strolled back to the garage, whistling cheerfully.

  She waited for the estate agent to come and see her, but he seemed to be taking a long time to wind up. It was a while before the auctioneer’s car drove away.

  There was no sign of the youths now. How Craig must hate her to do this to her. What had she ever done to deserve it? He was the one who’d been unfaithful, then walked out on their marriage, not her. And the house had belonged to her family, so he had no moral right to it, whatever he might want.

  Eventually Craig drove away and the estate agent came across to the house. She let him in and led the way to the kitchen. ‘I want to say again that there have never been groups of youths like that in this street before. And if you like, I’ll get you some signed statements from my neighbours to that effect.’

  ‘Why should the youths suddenly be here today, then?’

  ‘Because someone wanted to disrupt the auction and get the house for a low price, I suppose.’

  ‘I think you should be very careful before you make such accusations.’

  ‘Should I?’

  ‘Your husband was extremely upset on your behalf and is worried that you’re not thinking rationally.’

  ‘He’s not my husband. He’s my ex and he’s married to someone else. What’s more, he doesn’t give two hoots about me. Did he make you another bid?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Was it anywhere near the reserve price?’

  ‘Well, no.’

  She named the sum Craig had offered her before.

  ‘Yes, that’s it exactly,’ William said. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘It’s what he offered me when we split up – at the same time as he told me he’d get the house at that price one way or another, so I might as well give in. But he won’t get it. No one can force me to sell it to him. I’ll stay here for ever, if I have to.’

  ‘We might be able to persuade him to go higher.’

  ‘I don’t think you will, but you’re welcome to try. If he’ll meet the reserve price, I’ll sell, even to him.’

  ‘And as we agreed, we can list the house for sale now.’

  Which was what she should have done in the first place.

  She didn’t weep after he left. What good would it do?

  She watched as a van turned up to remove the seats and auctioneer’s table. There was no further sign of the youths.

  The following week the estate agent rang to say he was bringing a couple to view the house. Before they’d even arrived, the gang of youths was there again. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. How could anyone have got to know about this viewing?

  It only took a moment’s thought for her to realize there must be someone in the office of Grayson’s passing the information on. It was the only possible explanation.

  The couple looked round the house and the woman sighed. ‘It’s what we want, Ms Peel, but I don’t like the look of those yobs.’

  ‘I believe they’ve been sent deliberately to prevent me selling,’ Molly said grimly. ‘The only times I’ve ever seen them round here were during the auction and now.’

  All three of them looked at her as if she was mad.

  As William was showing the couple out, she touched his sleeve. ‘Do you have a moment?’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll just let the Doonans into my car.’

  When he came back, she said, ‘I think you may have someone in your office leaking information. Those youths haven’t been back here since the auction – until the very hour you came here to show someone round.’

  His disbelief showed in his face.

  She looked out and saw her neighbour out in the front garden, staring open-mouthed at the youths. ‘Wait.’ She ran outside. ‘Jane, could you spare me a minute?’

  ‘Of course, dear.’

  ‘Come and tell the estate agent that those youths don’t normally hang around here.’

  But Jane’s assurances did no good. William listened impassively, then said he’d be in touch.

  �
��You’re having trouble selling,’ Jane said when they were alone. ‘I saw what happened on the day of the auction. I was watching out of the window. Nosey neighbour syndrome.’

  ‘A neighbour like you can be as nosey as she wants. I think someone wants to get the house very cheaply and I can guess who.’

  ‘Craig?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, dear. I don’t know what the world is coming to when people act like that.’

  ‘I’m sorry too. But thank you for your help today, even if the estate agent didn’t believe us.’

  William rang up that evening. ‘I’ve been thinking what you said, talking to my colleagues about the situation and I believe, given the circumstances, that it’d be better if you took the house off the market for a while. Or found yourself another estate agent. You clearly don’t trust us.’

  ‘How did he get to you so quickly?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean. Or who you mean.’

  She wasn’t stupid enough to accuse Craig by name, so waited for William to speak. When he didn’t, she decided he wasn’t on her side anyway in this, so said quietly, ‘Please take my house off your books, then.’

  That evening Craig rang up again, increasing his offer slightly.

  She put the phone down on him and got herself a glass of wine, but left most of it, because she couldn’t settle to anything, let alone enjoy a drink.

  In the middle of the night someone threw a stone through her bedroom window.

  She came awake with a start as glass shattered and showered across her bed. The old-fashioned window, with its single pane of glass, had broken easily. She shivered, wishing she’d not resisted having double glazing fitted.

  Why would anyone do that to her?

  It took her a moment or two to realize what this must be about: the house. Craig again. She’d never be able to prove it was him, but she was quite certain of it.

  Breathing quietly, straining her ears to hear footsteps, she waited for another attack, but there was no sound outside and no more missiles smashed into the house.

  She cried then, couldn’t help it, sitting upright in the bed, surrounded by shards of glass, not daring to move, sobbing and letting the tears run down her cheeks. On the floor a large chunk of rock sat triumphant amid the ruins.

  Eventually she managed to stop weeping and shook the glass off the duvet. Leaning down for her slippers, she gave them a good shake as well, though fortunately they’d been on the other side of the bed. She risked putting them on then crunched her way to the window. Of course there was nothing to be seen, no lurking figures, no strange vehicles parked in the street, only the moonlight dappling the garden and the flowering cherry near the gate swaying in the breeze.

  She moved to another bedroom for the rest of the night, taking care not to put the light on to give away where she was. She didn’t sleep much, though, and the remaining hours of darkness seemed to pass very slowly.

  In the morning she got up and went to survey the damage to her bedroom: glass everywhere and a deep gouge mark on her dressing table. ‘Bad call, Craig,’ she said aloud. ‘I’m not giving in.’ She felt furiously angry and the incident made her feel more determined not to let him have the house, not less.

  She reported it to the police, knowing it wasn’t likely they’d be able to do anything, but wanting to register the offence, at least. Then she sat down and wrote out a diary of the various events. Her father had taught her to document serious problems. He’d been a wise man and she still missed him.

  He’d suggested early on in her marriage that she should stand up to Craig more, and she’d laughed, feeling secure and loved, knowing how her husband valued her help and support . . . and not wanting to rock the boat. She could see now that even then she’d been a bit chary of angering Craig.

  She didn’t know what she was going to do with her life now, but the one thing she could ensure was that Craig didn’t get hold of the house, whatever he offered her, whatever he did. She held on to that thought tightly.

  She wasn’t giving in to him.

  Euan stared at the email in amazement. Penny had resigned, in a brief email and without giving a reason. He couldn’t believe she’d be so unprofessional as to do it this way, without giving him any notice. His eyes narrowed as he read the second paragraph. She felt so nervous of coming in again, she’d be sending her fiancé to pick up her things the following afternoon. Could someone please pack them?

  He re-read the email and the idea slowly crept into his mind that something was brewing here. He had a nose for trickery. Was she going to claim that he or his staff had done something to upset her, something against the laws of harassment, or whatever they called it these days? He’d dealt with cases of false claims from time to time in the building industry, as well as genuine claims for injuries, which of course, he’d facilitated.

  No, surely Penny wouldn’t dare file a claim for compensation? The working conditions here were not only fair, but he stuck to both the letter and the spirit of the law.

  He read the email again and unease crawled along his spine. Something just didn’t read right.

  There was only one person to whom he could turn for help, only one person who knew Penny’s job and was beyond reproach. He picked up the phone. ‘Avril? I’m in serious trouble and I need your advice and help. No, it’s not just that I’m missing you, though I am. It’s Trouble with a capital T. Yes, I’d love to stop at your house for coffee on my way home and tell you about it. Thanks.’

  He then sent an email to say Penny’s fiancé shouldn’t call for her things until two days later, since he had to find someone who knew the office well enough to separate Penny’s possessions from company items. If she would provide a list, even a rough list, they could check it off and that might save everyone further trouble. He thanked her for her services and said the staff clerk from the hotel would be in touch about her pay and entitlements.

  He didn’t call in a temp that day, but soon wished he had, because he had to keep stopping work to answer the phone instead of doing his own job. He’d have to come back here this evening and put in a few more hours.

  He didn’t get away till six o’clock and when he stopped his car in Avril’s drive, he sat for a moment or two, eyes closed, gathering his thoughts together.

  She opened the door before he knocked, studied his face and patted his arm gently. ‘It must be bad for you to look so weary. Come and sit down, Euan. I’ve made an apple pie.’

  He tried to smile but was too tired, too worried. He accepted a cup of her delicious coffee and suddenly realized he’d missed lunch. The apple pie was delicious and he ate a second piece.

  ‘Missed lunch again, did you?’ she said, her eyes twinkling at him from behind her thick multifocal glasses.

  ‘Yes. I didn’t even notice until now.’

  ‘Doesn’t your secretary nip out for a sandwich? Or is that below a modern young woman’s dignity?’

  He sighed and explained the problem.

  She sat frowning, then shook her head regretfully. ‘I promised myself I’d never go back, but I think you’re right and you do need help. That young woman might be about to try something on. I’ll be in tomorrow at my usual time and I’ll help you find decent help this time to replace me.’ She fixed him with a firm gaze. ‘I’m not coming back permanently, but if it’s necessary, I’ll also be able to help you investigate this Penny person, since she lives locally. I have a lot of contacts in the community.’

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Thank you. You’re a wonderful woman.’

  She shook her head slightly, smiling. ‘And you’re a flatterer.’

  He stared back at her, still holding her hand. ‘No, I’m not. I’ve employed secretaries for nearly twenty years and not one of them has even come close to you in effectiveness or been such a pleasure to work with. I told you that when you left and I meant it.’

  She flushed and pulled her hand away. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’r />
  When he got back to work that evening, Euan felt a deep sense of relief that help was coming. There was no one around and he got a lot done. Only when he stood up to fetch some papers from the filing cabinet did he realize how stiff he was. Stretching and groaning, he glanced at the clock, amazed to see it was past midnight. He debated getting a room in the hotel attached to the complex, a hotel he didn’t run, thank goodness, but had leased out to someone else.

  In the end he decided to go home. He didn’t intend to face Avril in the morning wearing a crumpled shirt and yesterday’s underwear.

  He knew she couldn’t walk on water or see through walls, but sometimes it always felt as if she could.

  Four

  When Molly went to tidy the front garden, just to get out into the sunshine for a while, her neighbour looked over the fence.

  ‘What happened last night?’

  ‘Someone threw a rock through my bedroom window.’

  ‘How terrible! Do you fancy a cup of coffee and a chat?’

  ‘I’d love one.’

  As she sat on Jane’s patio, she found herself confiding in her neighbour, fighting against tears. ‘Sorry. I keep telling myself I won’t cry any more, then I get upset and before you know it, I’m weeping again. I’m so annoyed with myself.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ Jane said gently. ‘You’ve held things inside yourself for too long.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘You changed so much after Craig left, I did wonder whether you were clinically depressed. I told you if you wanted to talk, I was here, but you didn’t come. I repeated my offer recently. It does help to talk, you know, dear, and one of the good things about being eighty is that you have a lot of experience under your belt and sometimes that can help others.’

  Molly stared down at her tightly clasped hands, frowning. Depressed? You read about depression, but you never related it to yourself. But when she looked back, she realized she had been pretty miserable. And reclusive. ‘I think you could be right. About the depression, I mean. It hit me hard, Craig leaving.’

  ‘Bound to. But in spite of what’s happened lately, you look much brighter these days. Now, on to something more positive. Do you really mean what you told me the other day?’