The Family Across the Street by Nicole Trope

22

Gladys

Gladys cannot sit down. Her steps around the living room are short and rapid, the rattle of the air conditioner setting her teeth on edge. ‘I’m telling you, Lou, something is very wrong. “Thanks for trying to help,” that’s what he said to me. He knew that I know that something is wrong. I mean he’s five years old, Lou. What kind of a five-year-old says something like that?’

‘Can you please stop pacing, old girl, you’re making me tired. Maybe he just meant thanks for the muffins and it came out wrong. Children get things mixed up all the time.’ But Lou’s voice is uncertain. He is no longer as convinced of his own position. Gladys pushes, needing an ally to her own thoughts.

‘George is a particularly clever little boy. He was trying to give me some sort of message, I’m sure of it.’

‘Maybe but what exactly can you do about it?’

‘Well, I shall telephone the local police station and demand that they investigate.’ She nods her head. This is the right thing to do.

‘Yes, I suppose you could do that, but Gladys, didn’t they ask you to… I don’t know, stop calling or something?’ He is hesitant, unsure of her reaction.

Gladys feels her face flame. ‘I only call for good reasons, Lou. Constable Auerbach just asked if I could give people in the street more time to respond before I called her.’

‘Please try talking to your neighbours before you call us, Gladys,’ is what the constable said, but she had smiled kindly when she said it. ‘You’ve called us twelve times this year already,’ she said, then she reached out and patted Gladys on the arm, soothing an old woman. It had taken all of Gladys’s will to not pull her arm back, refusing the kind gesture.

Gladys didn’t think it could have been that many times anyway, but if it was, it was certainly not her fault that dogs barked all night or at least until 10 p.m., or that people parked in the incorrect manner or that sometimes the teenagers in the neighbourhood seemed to be exhibiting signs of being hard of hearing, so loud was their music. Every neighbourhood needs someone watching, making sure that things are all in order.

She reflects now that this is probably why she didn’t call the police after yesterday’s little incident. She had thought about it. She had definitely thought about it, but then she had imagined Constable Auerbach smiling kindly at her again and telling her, in a slightly condescending manner, that people have a right to do their jobs. But today she has tried to speak to Katherine. She’s tried over and again.

‘Look at that,’ says Lou, turning up the news, obviously hoping to distract her. ‘That young man has come to Sydney. They know he’s here now. They’ll get him, they will.’

Gladys glances at the television, sees the red cap again and she sinks into a chair, realisation creeping up her spine. ‘I’ve seen him,’ she says, placing her hand over her heart that is beating faster with each breath she takes.

‘Well, yes, there on the television.’ Lou gestures with the remote.

‘No, Lou,’ she says, wringing her hands. ‘That man, wearing the same red cap, was here, in our garden. He was here.’

‘Oh, Gladys, listen, I think…’

But she tunes her husband out. The red cap with the raised stitching in the same colour is seared on her mind. You can’t see the stitching in the CCTV footage but she knows it’s there. She knows it’s him. The facial features are blurry on the television but they sharpen as she thinks about him. She’s seen him. She can just make out the slight beard on his chin. She remembers that beard, knows she thought, If young men can’t grow proper beards, they should remain clean-shaven. A passing thought as she looked at him.

If she hadn’t wanted to hang the washing out then and there, she would probably not have seen the young man in her back garden at all, but there he was, looking straight into her kitchen when she came outside with the heavy plastic basket, filled with Lou’s shirts. He does seem to drop food on himself a lot these days. She is forever running for the stain remover.

‘What are you doing?’ she shouted at the young man, fear causing her voice to sound high and squeaky. He was dressed in jeans ripped at the knee, a black T-shirt and the cap. Red cap. Raised stitching on the front.

‘Gosh, I’m so sorry,’ he said politely. ‘I’m gardening next door and I wondered if I could place a ladder in your yard so I can trim the tall hedges on this side as well. I won’t, of course, if you would prefer me not to.’ He had a nice smile and he spoke very well so Gladys relaxed a bit.

‘Are you from Mark’s crew?’ she asked because the Petersons next door were very proud of their garden and had Mark and his gardening crew in at least once every two weeks to keep everything looking shipshape. One of them usually came over to ask if he could cut the tall hedges from Gladys’s side of the garden and of course she always said yes.

‘I am,’ he said and he smiled widely at her.

‘Well, of course you can, I always allow it,’ she said and then she realised that she’d forgotten her peg bag and had to go back inside. When she came back outside, he was gone, but she expected him back with his ladder at any moment. She darted to the front of the house quickly and saw that Mark’s van was indeed out the front of the Petersons’ house, so she assumed all was well.

She had been surprised when the young man hadn’t returned with his ladder and even more surprised when Hamid, one of the regular gardeners, turned up to ask if he could trim the hedges only half an hour later.

‘But I already told the other man that it was fine,’ Gladys said.

‘I’m the only one here today,’ Hamid said. And Gladys just nodded and smiled, feeling very stupid. Especially when she realised that Hamid wore a khaki brown shirt with ‘Garden Gurus’ on the pocket. The other young man had not been wearing any sort of uniform. Of course, she dashed around the house for a bit, grateful that Lou was having a nap, checking her purse and Lou’s wallet and the computers. Nothing had been taken or even moved. All was as it should be. She thought about calling the police, but then she imagined Constable Auerbach and her smile asking what exactly the problem was, and so she left it.

What was he doing here? Looking for money? Will he be back?Gladys imagines trying to sleep with the thought that a violent man is loose in her neighbourhood. No number of locks on her doors could make her feel safe. She needs to tell the police. It’s important that they know so they can begin looking for him.

‘I’m telling you, Lou, that man was here yesterday.’ She repeats herself, her hands twisting with worry.

Lou reaches forward and touches her leg lightly, softly – his concern for her communicated through his fingers. ‘Gladys, maybe you need a bit of a rest, you know, just for twenty minutes or so. It’s really hot.’

She shakes off his touch and stands up, returns to her pacing. ‘You have no idea what could be going on, Lou.’ She feels her body heating up as she moves, her mouth dry and thoughts crashing into each other. ‘Maybe the young man has something to do with John?’ she says.

‘Gladys, John is an accountant and he—’

‘We don’t know anything about what he does.’ Her voice rises so that he will keep quiet. She paces some more and then stops in front of her husband’s chair. ‘Maybe John is involved in something nefarious and the man is holding the whole family hostage,’ she says, grasping for the plot of some movie they once saw.

A look of real fear settles on Lou’s face. She knows that he thinks that something is really wrong with her. He is afraid for her mental wellbeing but she knows she saw the man, and she knows that she cannot stand by anymore and just let what’s happening at Katherine’s house go on. Maybe the two are connected. Maybe not but she needs to get some help from the police.

‘I’ll be back,’ she says to Lou, because she means to do something about all of this. Once and for all.

She will make the call outside after checking Katherine’s house just once more. A little spark of hope inside her imagines seeing Katherine and the children out the front, the hose sprinkling over the twins as it did last Sunday.

‘Maybe it’s all fine,’ she says aloud as she leaves her house. ‘Maybe everything is fine.’