Monica rolls her eyes. ‘Oh, yes. I’ve heard they’ve not wasted any time getting their feet under the table. I suppose you can’t blame them, trying to blend into the community and all that. Though it’s funny how some folks are falling over themselves to get up there, like it’s Buckingham Palace. Tilda and Simon were up there just the other evening.’
He glances up, his eyes sharp. ‘The couple who live in the barn conversion at the bottom of the hill?’
‘That’s them, lived here a few years now. Nice couple, although …’ she leans forward, lowering her voice ‘… by all accounts, he’s a bit of a charmer. Good-looking fella, see, and he knows it.’
‘Really? What kind of thing have you heard he gets up to?’
‘I’ve heard Tilda’s always on edge when there’s a pretty girl around. She can’t hide it. Lady in the corner shop said she made a scene in the pub last month when he spent a bit too long chatting to the new barmaid.’
He hides a smile behind his cup.Interesting. Useful.‘Oh dear,’ he murmurs.
‘You know how it can be with couples like that. One’s got a wandering eye and the other is cursed with a jealous disposition.’ Monica frowns. ‘According to the lady who runs the post office, Tilda is terribly insecure. Always trying to make it obvious they’re a perfect match when really … Well, it’s plain as day she’s frightened someone else’ll catch his eye.’
He takes another sip of tea and sets the mug on the side table, his fingers tapping lightly on the handle. A faint smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. Seeds, he thinks. Little seeds, planted just right, can blossom quite quickly.
‘And what about that nice young woman who I’ve seen with … Jack, is it? The Mower World man I saw in the pub. She’s his girlfriend, I think.’
Monica’s face softens a bit. ‘Oh, yes. That’s Sarah, his fiancée. Lovely girl. She’s going to be a teacher at a local school in the autumn. She’s been with Jack a good while now – though I have to say it’s a bit of a mismatch. She’s very driven, that one. High hopes and ambitions. Can’t see her sticking around for ever, not with Jack tied to that mower business of his. He’s a good lad, don’t get me wrong, but some people around here seem to think she’s a bit out of his league.’
He lets out a quiet chuckle, as if amused by some harmless gossip. But his mind is already working, scheming over possibilities. Relationships are fragile. A well-placed word, a suggestion whispered in the right ear: that’s how you can start to engineer things coming undone.
He glances out of the window, where the pale blue sky presses down on the village, making his skin itch. Like a swarm of ants crawling just under his flesh.
He wonders what Janey would make of it, if she knew he was sitting just a stone’s throw away, listening to the village busybody feeding him all the little bits and pieces he needsto pull her new life apart. He feels the familiar rush of hate, surging up like bile in his throat. He swallows it, keeping his face neutral.
She doesn’t know he’s here.
She doesn’t know he’s watching. But she soon will.
Monica breaks into his thoughts with a tut and a shake of her head. ‘Honestly, though, that place on the hill. I don’t know how they’ll cope come winter. All that glass – they’ll be up to their necks in heating bills.’
He nods again, but his mind is already on other things. He’s piecing together what to do next. What to say to set the whispers spreading. If he can stir up enough tension, let that house and the new owners become a focus for resentment, it’ll start to chip away at their perfect little life.
‘You all right there?’ Monica asks, eyeing him curiously.
He snaps back to the present and stops scratching his hand. He gives her a benign smile. ‘Oh, yes. Just thinking how some folks never know what they’re getting themselves into. Moving here without knowing the lie of the land.’
‘That’s true enough,’ Monica agrees. ‘Some people think they can just waltz in and make everything their own without any effort. Not how it works in a place like this.’
As Monica rattles on about the sterile look of the new couple’s garden and how Jack has been seen up there lending a hand, he keeps his expression polite and his focus elsewhere.
Janey thinks she’s safe up there in the big glass house. She thinks she’s left the past behind. But he knows that perfection cracks easily when you know where to push.
He swirls the dregs of his tea, sips, then lets the bitter taste pool on his tongue. He’s not going to rush. He’s going to savour this – pulling her world apart one small, insidious piece at a time.
33
Merri
I turn the radio on and Oasis are playing, one of Paige’s favourite bands. I wonder how she’s doing at the house and rattle off a quick text asking how she is.
The gate bell rings as I’m unpacking another box. I wipe my hands on my jeans, brushing off the dust. It’s been just over a week since we moved in, and the house still feels more like a project than a home. I glance at the clock: it’s not yet ten. Dev’s gone into town to get some bits and bobs we need and probably won’t be back for another hour or so.
I push the security intercom to speak and a tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair crackles into view.Simon.
I buzz him through, and when I open the door, Simon shifts his feet and tucks his hands into his pockets. He smiles, the same easy, crooked smile he had when we met at his place last night.
Then the smile disappears and his eyebrows knit together. ‘Hey, Merri,’ he says. ‘How are you? Tilda told me what happened. Sorry to hear it.’
