The Woman At The Door Daniel Hurst (online e reader TXT) 📖

is a total chauvinist, but he has made some dodgy remarks over the years about the fairer sex, whether it’s been at neighbourhood barbecues or sometimes just when we pass on our driveways. But if Rebecca wants to come with me then I guess she can.

‘Sure,’ I say with a shrug. ‘Let’s go do some detective work.’

8

REBECCA

I tuck my hair behind my ears and fiddle with the neckline on my blouse as Sam and I wait for Steve or his wife to come and answer the front door. I’m not sure why I feel nervous about going into this house, but it might have something to do with the fact that I know Steve can be a bit of a male chauvinist, so I guess I feel like he is going to judge me and my appearance as soon as he sees me. But I shouldn’t care what he thinks. If he has a problem with women then it is his problem, not mine.

I’m just here to check his CCTV footage with my husband to see if we can spot the woman who came to our door last night.

I see movement through the frosted glass window of our neighbour’s front door before hearing the sound of a key turning in a lock. Then the door swings open, and I’m suddenly face to face with Steve, the man who once tutted at my husband because he was carrying the shopping bags in from our car instead of making me do it.

‘Hello?’ Steve says with intonation in his voice as if he’s unsure why we are here.

‘Hi mate. How’s it going?’ Sam replies chirpily with a very generous use of the word “mate”. These two men are definitely not mates, and their relationship doesn’t extend to more than a few grunts about football results over the garden fence whenever they’re both in their back gardens. But my husband needs something from Steve today, so I guess “mate” is the right word for this occasion.

‘I’m fine,’ Steve replies, and I notice him looking me up and down as if I’m on a TV screen and not standing right here looking back at him.

‘Great. Sorry to bother you, but we were just wondering if you could help us. We had a visitor last night. Or it could have been a few people. Kids, most likely. But they made a bit of a nuisance, only I didn’t get a good look at them, and I was wondering if your camera might have picked them up.’

Sam nods in the direction of the small black camera that is fixed to the wall above the door to Steve’s garage. It looks out across his driveway where he has a couple of BMWs parked, but from what Sam has said, it also covers the pavement and some of the road too. Apparently, Steve was bragging about it over the garden fence a while back and saying how good it was for home security.

‘You want to look at my camera?’ Steve asks, taking a few seconds to catch up with what was a rather basic suggestion.

‘That’s right,’ Sam says. ‘If that would be okay? We might be able to stop these kids if they come around again. Who knows, they might come to your place next time.’

I notice how easily Sam is fibbing to our neighbour, and while it is serving its purpose here, it does concern me a little because I never thought of him as being a good liar, yet here he is spouting out a false story as if it’s the most casual thing in the world.

If he can do this then what else could he have lied about?

‘I can have a look and let you know if I see anything,’ Steve suggests, which is rather helpful but might take some time, which doesn’t really suit us because we need answers faster than that.

‘Is there any chance we could just come in and have a look with you? It’s just we know what time it all happened, and it’ll probably be a lot quicker if we help. We don’t want to waste too much of your time.’

Sam is being very persuasive.

‘Err, I dunno. The missus has just got out of the shower. I’ll have to check if she’s decent.’

‘That’s okay. We can wait a minute,’ Sam tells him, and Steve shrugs before disappearing inside his house and leaving us waiting by his open front door.

I look at my husband, and he gives me a smile as if to say that everything will be fine and we’ll be inside checking the camera footage in a moment. I notice that he does seem relaxed, and that makes me feel a little better because I feel like if he had anything to hide about this woman then he wouldn’t be behaving like this. He’d most likely be trying to get me to forget all about her.

Thirty seconds later and Steve comes back, looking a little annoyed about things but surprisingly polite enough to not tell us to get lost.

‘Come in,’ he mumbles in our general direction, and we do as he says, stepping into his home and closing the door.

This is the first time that I have ever been in my next-door neighbours’ house, although I’m hardly going to pop round for a cup of tea when the guy who lives here hates women and thinks they exist purely to serve the needs of men. As if on cue to remind me of his personality, Steve tells us both that his wife will be down in a moment if we would like a cup of tea before he leads us through his living room towards the back room where I assume the CCTV footage is stored.

As I walk through the home, I realise that it is exactly the same layout as mine, except everything is in the opposite place. Instead of being on the left, it’s on the right. The staircase. The fireplace. The archway into the dining room. It’s