20

Abi sat, rooted to the couch, the tips of her fingers pale from gripping the wineglass as she watched Robert edge closer to the patio door. He hovered one hand over the handle, the other over a switch for the outside light. With one last glance at Abi, he yanked opened the door and snapped on the light.

Abi sprang to her feet and skipped after Steven as he jumped into the yard, his senses on high alert. The muscles under his T-shirt were noticeably rigid, tense; the vein in his neck pounding rapidly.

The sound of the sliding door rattling in its housing reverberated throughout the house as Abi yanked it shut and was immediately followed by another noise, one that drew both Abi and Steven’s attention. It came from Robert’s side of the fence—a clattering, banging. Steven immediately took out his phone, opened turned on its flashlight, and then pointed the glaring light at the fence.

Abi remained inside the house, watching Steven from the threshold. She was reluctant to step outside, but she had an inkling as to what the sound was. Judging by the way Steven glared at the fence, the way his eyes opened wide, his jaw set rigid by clenched teeth, she could also imagine what he had seen.

“What the fuck are you doing!?” Steven barked, his attention on the fence, holding his subject in place with the beam of his makeshift spotlight. He advanced, shuffling baby steps, his gaze never leaving his target.

“I—I—I—”

Abi’s heart sank when she heard the mumbled reply. She hadn’t known her neighbor long, but she recognized his anxious utterances. She knew it was Robert. And in the time it took Steven to move across the garden, to edge closer to the fence and force his intimidating posture on her neighbor, she also understood exactly what had happened.

“You were spying on us,” Steven yelled, echoing Abi’s thoughts.

“No—No, I swear—”

“We’re going to call the police—” For the first time in the confrontation, Steven turned to Abi, his gaze softening. “Call the police, Abi. Tell them your creepy neighbor was spying on you.”

Abi nodded quickly as Steven spoke to her, desperate for him to finish and to focus back on Robert, worried that every second he was distracted was a second that he was at risk. If a lifetime of horror films had taught her anything it was that you never turned your back on a crazy person.

Steven turned away from Abi, back to Robert, whose flustered, heavy breathing she could hear from inside the house.

“Please don’t phone the police,” Robert said. “You don’t need to do that. I wasn’t doing anything, I swear.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” Steven barked. The anger in his voice made Abi flinch, but she didn’t move. She wanted to head back inside, grab her phone, and call the police; she wanted to run to the kitchen and get a weapon just in case. But she did none of those things and remained where she was, frozen, uncertain.

“I wasn’t, I—”

“I saw you,” Steven reaffirmed. “What’s your game, eh?” He was close to the fence now, just several feet from Abi. A few more steps and he would be out of her eye line and within inches of her neighbor.

Abi closed her eyes tightly, breathed deeply. A dizziness came over her. Her blood raced through her body, creating a waterfall of chaos inside her head, making her legs weak, her stance unsteady. She placed her hand on the wall and leaned against it, taking some of the weight and strain off her weakening legs.

Come on, Abi, now’s not the time.

“We know what you’re up to,” Steven said, now fully out of Abi’s line of vision.

There was a moment of hesitation and defiance. When Robert replied, the fear and shock in his voice had been replaced by uncertainty, bordering on bemusement. “What do you mean?”

Be strong, Abi.

“You’ve been spying on her. Watching her. Stalking her. And that’s not all, is it?”

“Isn’t it?”

Steven’s tone changed, it became lower, softer, his words carried on a wave of disgust: “We know it was you.”

“Do you? Because I don’t, I don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

What would Gran do?

Abi opened her eyes, feeling anger rising, hatred growing. She forced the anxiety aside, took another deep breath, and finally stepped over the threshold and into the yard. The cool night air greeted her immediately, as did the bickering rivals who stood on either side of her fence.

“Hello, Abi,” Robert said in a tone that neither she nor Steven appreciated.

Abi remained still, standing several feet behind Steven, her eyes fixed on her neighbor.

“You better watch yourself,” Steven barked, turning back to Robert, thrusting his finger at him.

“Okay, but can you put your light down now?” Robert said, his tone growing more confident and carefree by the minute. “You’re going to give me a headache.”

“Good!” Steven barked, maintaining his threatening posture but looking visibly perturbed by Robert’s sudden personality shift. He lowered the phone and was about to turn off the app when he noticed something. The beam focused back on Robert, this time on his hands.

“You were taking pictures,” Steven accused.

“What? Don’t be—”

“Why else would you have your phone out?”

“None of your business.”

“You’re right, it’s not. But I bet the police will be interested. Did you phone them, Abi?” Steven asked, the light glaring into Robert’s face, forcing him to shield it with his hand.

Abi shook her head. “No, I-I don’t think—I mean—”

“You made the right choice, Abi,” Robert said smugly.

Steven glared at both of them in turn, a low, grumbled grunt of exasperation escaping his lips. “You keep your eyes off her,” he warned.

It wasn’t the right choice; it was the only one. Abi knew that, and underneath the anger, she knew that Steven did, as well. He hadn’t committed a crime, not that they could prove, and while he had been incredibly creepy, they had no way to prove that he had been in the yard. Pictures could be deleted; lies could be told. It had been a good day, and Abi didn’t want the police to spoil that any more than Robert already had.

“You’re lucky we’re in a forgiving mood.” Steven closed the flashlight app and put his phone away.

Abi noted a look of smug satisfaction on Robert’s face as he removed his hand from his eyes and tucked it into his pocket.

“What is your game here?” Steven pushed.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. First, you go on a date, then the next thing you move into the house next door, you follow her around, hide in her yard—”

“Allegedly.”

“Excuse me?”

“Allegedly, I hid in her yard. I’m not admitting to anything.”

Steven paused, his mouth agape as he processed the conversation and the blank expression on Robert’s face. “You’re messed up.”

“Allegedly.”

Steven shook his head in disbelief. “Tell me, what is it you’re up to?”

Robert shrugged. “Just enjoying the night.”

“Really? In that case, where have you been tonight?”

“I don’t need to answer your questions.”

“You fucking better answer my questions,” Steven barked. “Otherwise I’ll scale this fence and—”

He stopped when Abi rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she said. “Just forget about him.”

She could feel the tension in his shoulders, could sense the anger that coursed through him. But when he looked at her and noted how anxious she was, how uncomfortable she was with the situation and how clearly desperate she was for it to be over, he relaxed.

“You better stay away,” Steven told Robert, his words softer, his tone still threatening. “If I see you anywhere near this house again, I will break your fucking face.” He held his stare for interminable seconds and then pulled away, following Abi as she beat a retreat into the house.

“Good advice,” Robert said as the two departed, “I have some advice for you—”

Steven stopped just short of the patio door. Abi slid inside, eager to away from the confrontation.

She watched Steven’s face as Robert continued, “Be careful with that one, she’s not the little angel that you think she is.”

—

“What did he mean by that?” Abi was angry. The tension, the anxiety, and the worry had wrestled for control inside her head over the last couple of hours before giving way to indignation. “I’m not the angel you think I am?”

Steven shrugged, somewhat amused by Abi’s anger. “Firstly, I don’t think you are a little angel. I knew you had a fire in you—anyone with a gran like yours can’t be wholly innocent. Secondly, so what? He’s just a creepy little incel who pins the blame on you because you refused to date him, sleep with him, and succumb to his every bizarre whim.”

“Bastard,” Abi spat, draining the last of her red wine.

“You have a face like thunder,” Steven noted. “And it suits you. You need to get angry more often.”

“For as long as that prick is around, I will.”

“Keep talking dirty to me, you’re turning me on.”

Abi laughed and shoved him hard, sending him into a panic as he desperately tried to stop himself from spilling his wine.

“I think I’m a little drunk,” Abi said after watching him struggle and then diverting her attention to her empty glass and the bottle next to it.

“You’re not alone.” Steven put his glass down on the table. “Maybe we should call it a night.”

As soon as he spoke those words, Abi’s attention went to the back door. They had turned the outside light on and drawn the curtains, but the commotion still unsettled her. She had panicked after walking in the kitchen and seeing her own reflection in the window; had hurried during three visits to the bathroom, craning her neck to see the small window behind her, fearing that his smug face was on the other side of the frosted glass.

If her gran was there, she wouldn’t have felt the same level of paranoia. Martha was strong. Nothing fazed her. But the old woman hadn’t shown her face.

“Maybe I should sleep here tonight.” Steven seemingly read Abi’s mind.

Abi wanted him to stay. She dreaded to think what would happen if she was forced to spend the night alone—she was tired, tipsy, anxious. The night would be spent pacing the floor and peeking through the curtains. Eventually, she would drive herself insane and would be found either curled in a ball in the corner of the room or chasing her neighbor around the yard with a machete and a mouthful of obscenities.

“Okay.” Abi nodded, a smile on her face as she pictured herself naked, machete in hand, and in hot pursuit of her perverted neighbor. It certainly wouldn’t be the worst outcome, but with Steven there, it was one she didn’t need to worry about. “But I can’t be bothered dealing with my gran’s crude questions right now, so you’re going to have to keep quiet.”

He held up his hands, palms open, before squeezing his lips shut tight and drawing a finger across them.

“Assuming she actually returns,” Abi added, another concern jostling its way to the front of her busy mind. “God knows where she is or what she’s up to, but she’ll probably wander back in the early hours, drunk as a skunk, stinking of kebab meat and beer and singing.”

“Your gran eats kebabs and drinks beer?”

“Yes, amazing, isn’t it?”

“It really is. I mean, I haven’t even seen this woman, and already I think I’m in love.”

“Fuck off,” Abi hissed jokingly under her breath, shoving him on the arm again.

“Abi Ansell,” he retorted in reply, shaking his head in feigned displeasure. “You’re not the sweet, innocent girl I fell for. In fact, you’re a kebab, a wig, and a few beers away from turning into your gran.”

Abi glared at him, an eyebrow raised. “Does that turn you on?” she winked.

He looked appalled at first, but then he nodded. “A little bit.”