The Family Across the Street by Nicole Trope

6

Gladys

Gladys loads the dishwasher before going into the living room to check on Lou. He’s fallen asleep again, something that happens more and more often these days. Just being awake seems to tire him out.

The children have still not walked past the house. She and Lou ate breakfast and watched carefully. She would like to sit and read, but she feels a little jumpy for no particular reason. She goes into the spare room again and looks at the house next door. The blinds are still down, the windows closed. Maybe Katherine is just taking the advice given on the news to keep windows and blinds closed, to keep the heat out. But this is not the first heatwave this year and she knows that Katherine has never before kept the blinds and windows closed during the day.

Gladys is aware that she is known as the neighbourhood busybody, and perhaps that’s what she is, but when she was growing up, everyone knew everyone in their neighbourhood. Her mother regaled them all with tales of everyone’s lives over dinner each night. It was not considered nosy to ask questions about your neighbours and to be involved in their lives. It seems that people now are open and honest about their lives all over the internet and then coy about exactly the same things in person. Perhaps because it’s difficult to tell the truth about yourself when you’re looking directly at someone.

When she and Lou first bought this house, the neighbourhood was filled with people who became their friends. Where Katherine lives now is where Roberta and Geoff lived with their three children. Gladys watched those children grow from babies to adults. Roberta would pop over for tea during the school holidays when Gladys was home and Lou still working. She had known when Roberta and Geoff had had an argument, when the children were sick and finally, she was one of the first to know when Roberta got her cancer diagnosis. Geoff sold the house after she died and then another family moved in – less friendly but still, Mira did like a chat over the fence every now and again. When she and her family moved to Melbourne, they sold the house to Katherine and her husband John. Even though Gladys welcomed them with a cake and tried popping over for tea once or twice, she got the feeling that Katherine needed her space. It’s the same with Margo over the road, who always seems to be looking at her watch when they see each other, keen to keep her baby, Joseph, in a routine. She never seems to have time to talk.

She thinks about the first time she met Katherine. She and John were both so happy, a couple at the beginning of the big adventure of becoming a family. Even from a distance, they seem… less happy now. It’s the stress of raising twins and of being the parents of young children, Gladys is sure. It isn’t that she hears them argue, but then of course she wouldn’t. She is sure that they are responsible enough to keep any arguments quiet. It’s more that there is something odd between them when she’s seen them together lately.

Last Sunday the whole family were in the front garden. John is a keen gardener and he was weeding, and Katherine was holding the hose so that the children could run in and out of the water, even though they have a pool at the back. Gladys had left Lou to have a stroll around the block, just to stretch her legs. It wasn’t an overly warm day so it was pleasant to walk and admire the gardens filled with their summer flowers and magnificent colours.

‘Hello,’ she called, stopping at their front gate.

‘Hello,’ replied Katherine.

‘Look what we’re doing,’ shouted George, running under the arc of water from the hose.

‘I see,’ said Gladys, ‘it looks like fun.’

‘Not so much for the one who has to hold the hose,’ Katherine said.

‘Then don’t do it,’ muttered John.

‘I’m doing it for George and Sophie, not for you.’

‘I never claimed you were doing anything for me.’

‘Perhaps you don’t want to be here gardening; perhaps you’d rather be somewhere else,’ Katherine said, her voice tight with anger.

Gladys had the feeling she had stumbled into a conversation that had been going on for some time.

John stood up from the garden bed and walked towards Katherine, grabbing the hose out of her hands and using it to wash the dirt off his own.

‘Hey!’ shouted Sophie.

‘Quiet,’ he barked and then he stormed off away from them, back into the house.

‘Bad morning?’ Gladys asked in what she hoped was a jovial tone.

‘Lots of bad mornings,’ Katherine said, holding the hose over the children again.

It seemed to Gladys that Katherine’s words were said more to herself than to Gladys. ‘Oh, well,’ she said, unable to think of any other reply, and Katherine gave herself a little shake. ‘Sorry, Gladys… don’t mind John. He’s grumpy because he’s tired. He’s been working late a lot.’

‘Of course, of course,’ murmured Gladys and then she waved and went on her way.

It wasn’t the silly argument that had bothered her but rather the tension between the two of them. It filled the summer air and darkened John’s features.

He isn’t a big man, only a little taller than Katherine, and Gladys doesn’t think he’s the type to become violent. He is an accountant in a large firm. Accountants are not a violent bunch – not usually at least. But in that moment, just then, it seemed as if he could have been, from the way he wrenched the hose out of Katherine’s hand.

Gladys stares at the house, where the closed blinds look strangely ominous and secretive.

‘Well, you need to just stop being ridiculous,’ she says aloud. ‘Just march over there and check on them.’

She nods her head and catches sight of herself in the guest bedroom mirror, makes a clicking sound with her tongue at her appearance. She hasn’t put on any make-up this morning but she supposes there’s no point. It will simply slide off her face in this terrible heat, and hardly anyone’s going to see her anyway. She finds herself dressing up less and less these days, a feeling of defeat overtaking her as she applies base to cover wrinkles and age spots. It’s not healthy, and she is trying to encourage herself not to think that way. She pushes her hair behind her ears and lifts her neck. She’s not doing badly for seventy, and at least her body is still trim and fit. She likes the pants she’s wearing today. The lovely flower-patterned design feels like she’s wearing a garden around her legs. Clothes should be bright and cheerful, she’s always thought.

As a young girl Gladys was conscious of her skinny arms and legs and her slightly hooked nose. She had nice eyes, wide and blue, but she knew that she didn’t fit the description of pretty. Her brown hair is still cut in a short bob and she keeps the colour with regular visits to the hairdresser. She tried, throughout her teenage years, to make peace with the fact that she was not likely to find a husband. ‘What nonsense,’ her mother told her, ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder and you’re a beautiful young woman,’ and she was right.

She bumped into Lou at a pub on a night out with some of the teachers from the school where she was working at the time.

‘We’ll all move up a little – sit down,’ said someone, Gladys can’t remember who. And then she moved to create a space, assuming that the person sitting next to her would shuffle up as well, but Lou said, ‘I’ll take that seat, right next to the pretty one.’ He sat down beside her and offered her his hand. ‘I’m Lou and I sell cars. I’ll get you the best deal on a new car if you let me buy you your next drink.’ He had thick brown hair and grey-blue eyes. Gladys allows herself a small smile now as she remembers how she had flushed, heat rising up from her toes.

She leaves the guest bedroom and looks in on her husband downstairs. He is still asleep. She contemplates leaving him a note but then doesn’t. She’ll be back almost immediately, she’s sure.

Outside the heat is starting to take hold, cicadas ramping up their song. She looks across the road and sees the dog who belongs to the Patel family lying in the front garden under a tree, panting. He’s a golden retriever and even though he’s had his summer cut, he looks very unhappy in the heat.

She ducks across the road quickly and looks down the side of the house where she knows they leave his water and food. She can see not just one bowl of water but three. She nods her head, satisfied, and crosses back over to her side of the street.

Pushing open the metal gate at the front of Katherine’s house, Gladys walks purposefully up the front path.

Once she’s rung the bell she waits, knowing that she will soon hear Katherine shout, ‘George, do not answer the door until I’m there.’ The little boy likes to answer the door. He is curious about everything and everyone and speaks to her as though they are the same age. Sometimes he calls her ‘Glad’, which sounds strange coming from the mouth of a five-year-old, but he is completely charming. Sophie is less interested in other people and more of a chatterbox, filled with information and ideas. ‘Did you know that a worker bee lives for forty-two days,’ she said to Gladys when they met in the street last week, as though handing over classified information, and Gladys nodded, making sure to register this fact with the gravitas it needed.

But the house is silent. There are no sounds of running children or Katherine shouting.

Gladys wonders if perhaps the family have left for an early holiday. School finishes up for the year on Friday. But then she remembers that John left for work this morning, with screeching tyres, according to Lou. And when they do go away, Katherine always comes over to tell Gladys so that she can keep an eye on the house.

She pushes the doorbell once more and waits. She could have just called Katherine because she has her mobile number. But phone calls are easily ignored and then Gladys would have been left still wondering if everything was all right. No, it’s better to tackle this in person.

She hears the metal square that holds the peephole open and she smiles.

‘Hey Gladys,’ says Katherine through the door. ‘Now isn’t really a good time.’

‘Oh,’ says Gladys, a little flustered. Even in the early days, when she had rung the bell to find Katherine in the middle of changing a nappy, the door was always opened for her. Only Katherine’s tight politeness would give Gladys any sense that she was not in the mood for coffee and a chat.

‘Oh right,’ she says, ‘I just… well, I didn’t see the children go to school and the blinds in their room are closed, and I just wondered if everything was okay, or if you needed anything, if the children are sick or something…’

She stops speaking, aware that she does sound like a very nosy person. She pats at her hair, making sure the clip is still holding in place.

‘It’s not a good time,’ Katherine repeats. ‘But thanks. It’s just not a good time.’ The peephole is closed.

Gladys folds her arms and feels the sun burning through the thin blue blouse she is wearing.

She thinks about ringing the doorbell again but decides against it. Katherine obviously wants to be left alone.

She sounded stressed, the poor woman. Perhaps the children are both ill with colds or something – but then why not just say that? Katherine knows that Gladys would sympathise and even offer to help.

She hears some movement inside – the sound of running footsteps – and she pulls her shoulders back a little, listening closely.

A voice comes through the door in a fierce whisper: ‘This is a very strange house right now.’

She can’t tell if it’s George or Sophie speaking but she does know it’s one of the children. She frowns and crouches down a little, hoping it will help her hear better. ‘Why?’ she asks.

‘Sophie, get over here,’ she hears George shout from further away, and then there are footsteps as Sophie moves away from the door.

Gladys stands up straight and once again thinks about ringing the bell.

Then she hears the peephole open again and waits in case it’s Katherine, and in case she wants to say something. She stands still for a moment, a smile plastered on her face, but when nothing else is said she feels silly and turns around. She takes a couple of steps and waits again, but when there is only silence, she goes back down the stone path to the front gate. She walks slowly but is aware of feeling like she needs to move quickly. She feels like she’s being watched. The hair on her arms stands up and even in the strong morning heat, she feels cold. Something is not right inside that house. She’s sure of it.

Back in her own kitchen she puts on the kettle to make herself a cup of tea and then immediately switches it off again. She doesn’t know what she should do or why she feels so strange about what just happened. It was probably just a joke, just Sophie being silly.

‘Gladys,’ calls Lou from the living room, ‘Gladys, where are you?’ He sounds frantic, as he does whenever he wakes up and can’t find her.

‘I’m here, Lou,’ she calls. Before he retired, she used to call him at lunchtime every day and he would say, ‘Now don’t you worry, sweet pea, I’ll be home at six on the dot and I won’t smile at any woman except you.’ It always made her laugh. He doesn’t make jokes anymore.

In the living room, she fixes the pillow behind his back. He has slumped sideways a little in his sleep and she tries to right him, but he pushes at her to get her to step away from him.

‘Stop fussing. Where were you?’

She steps back and folds her arms to stop herself from smoothing down his hair for him. ‘Just in the kitchen, Lou, just making tea. Where else would I be?’

He gives her a look and she sits down in her chair. ‘Truthfully, I went over to check on them.’ She picks up her book from the small table next to her chair where she has left it and opens it, staring down at the pages.

‘Ha, I knew you would, and I bet everything is fine and now they think you’re an interfering old woman.’

Gladys closes the book, knowing that reading will not be possible. ‘Don’t be rude, Lou.’ She debates with herself for a moment over whether to tell him anything or not but she needs to say something. ‘Actually, everything is not fine. I don’t think it is at all.’ She shakes her head as Lou folds his hands in his lap and waits for her to go on. ‘Katherine wouldn’t open the door and then Sophie whispered to me that there was something strange going on in the house.’

‘Probably just messing about.’ Lou picks up the remote control for the television, pointing it at the screen.

‘I don’t think so. I think something may be a little bit wrong.’

‘What could possibly be wrong?’ he asks.

‘I don’t know, they seem unhappy sometimes – her and John, I mean.’

He shrugs his shoulders and then lifts his glasses onto his face. ‘You can’t judge someone else’s marriage, Gladys. It’s not your business.’

Lou switches on the TV, turning it to the news. The face of a pretty young woman flashes up on the screen.

‘A young woman has been badly beaten and left for dead in her apartment,’ drones the newsreader. ‘It is believed that the victim knew her attacker although enquiries are still in the early stages. Police are interviewing neighbours and have established a crime scene.’

On the screen is a glaring shot of an ambulance surrounded by police holding up blankets to shield someone from the prying eyes of the media as they are being brought out on a stretcher.

‘People are just terrible,’ says Lou, shaking his head.

‘Yes,’ she agrees. ‘Who would want to hurt such a pretty young girl? And in her own home too. Home should be a place where you’re safe. It really should be.’ She finds herself tearing up a little with no real idea why it’s upset her so much.

‘Weren’t you making tea?’ he asks, but he asks politely and she knows it’s because she’s scolded him for being abrupt with her.

‘Of course,’ she says and she smiles to let him know he’s forgiven. He would make the tea if he could but his hands shake too much for him to perform this simple task now. Having to have a thick mug instead of the delicate cups he prefers is difficult enough for him to deal with. She stands up, grateful to have this task to perform as she mulls over her strange experience at Katherine’s house.

In the kitchen she looks out at the garden, and she struggles to pinpoint her unease. Home should be a place you feel secure and her home has always felt that way. But after yesterday and Katherine’s strange behaviour today, it feels as though something has changed in the neighbourhood, as though the safe place she has lived for decades is suddenly less secure. That’s what this strange feeling inside her is. For the first time, she feels unsafe.