I don’t think I slept a wink all night. I resented Adrian for falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and even my sleep spray did little to stop my mind from racing. It’s happening again, this time it’s serious. I know the last one was, but this means we may have to take action because what if Ryan’s right, what if it is a sex house? It’s a disaster and I must do something to stop it immediately before it escalates.
The only person I can trust with this is Jasmine. I’m sure she’ll know what to do, even it means telling a few white lies to get Ryan off the hook. She deals with the law and wouldn’t look kindly on his hobby and yet she’s the one who can stop this, I just have to trust my judgement on this.
As always, she’s left for work before I even boil the kettle in the morning, and so I’m resigned to sending her a quick text instead.
Nancy: Hey, are you free for a drink later, just the two of us? I have something I need to run by you. It shouldn’t take long.
It takes a while for her to reply, but it comes when I finish my morning Pilates.
Jasmine: Sure, I’m back around 7pm. Why don’t you come over and we can chat while I fix dinner?
I’m not sure how I manage to concentrate the rest of the day, and I spend most of it baking to distract my attention. I hear Esme yelling at her boys and pray to God they don’t end up like Ryan. It’s a strange world we now live in that nobody gave me the manual to. My children know and do things I couldn’t possibly comprehend, and that scares me more than anything. How can I police their activities when I don’t know what they are? They are always five steps ahead of me and I’m floundering in a world I know nothing about. I can’t even download a playlist on iTunes and need Ryan or Owen to help me, so what chance do I stand at monitoring their online activity?
Sometimes I wish the Internet had never been invented and children were made to communicate face to face and actually leave their rooms for once. Both of my boys spend more time incarcerated than your average prisoner, and I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve nagged Ryan to get a part-time job, but he informed me he earned more online than any employer could ever pay him. When I asked what it was, he mumbled something about affiliate links and gaming, and I zoned out immediately. If he has money, he spends it on more computer games and software, and I don’t have a clue what he does when he’s locked in his room.
Owen is much the same, although he does at least have a couple of friends he plays football with occasionally. I am fearful for this generation because I’m not sure how they will survive in the actual world.
Nobody appears to want to work these days, just post pictures and revel in the likes and comments. The mere mention of a job in an insurance company, or learning a trade, causes their eyes to glaze over and all the answer I get is a patronising shake of the head and a slight smirk. Yes, I know nothing about this brave new world, but I do know one thing. What’s going on in the house with the pretty pink door is not normal.
Armed with freshly baked flapjacks and a bottle of Prosecco, I knock on Jasmine and Liam’s door at ten past seven. Jasmine opens it looking business-like in her smart navy suit and silk blouse. She looks tired though and I feel bad for disturbing her but she smiles sweetly and says with relief, “Thank god, you brought food.”
She takes my offering eagerly and stuffs a whole slice of flapjack into her mouth and groans with appreciation. “I think I love you, Nancy. Will you become my live-in lodger and feed me 24/7”?
Liam ventures out of his office and seizes one for himself. “Thank god for neighbours, you’re welcome anytime but only with food.”
As I follow Jasmine to her kitchen, it strikes me it’s just like the showroom we viewed when we looked around the development. Nothing is out of place and pristine, and I wonder if they actually use any of this stuff. Jasmine gestures to the nearby bar stool and reaches for the Prosecco. “Take a seat and I’ll pour us all a glass of fizz. It’s been a hell of a day and I need this more than calories at the moment.”
As she pours us a glass, I feel bad as I see the tired lines around her bloodshot eyes and the worry on her face. “Bad day?”
She nods sadly. “It was a pig of a day, actually. I had a meeting with our client and he gives me the creeps. A pervert of the worst kind and not even sorry for what he did. He thinks it’s our job to make his case and get him off scot free, and I suppose it is. I don’t have to like it though—or him.”
She shivers and takes a large slug of the Prosecco, and for the first time since I met her, I feel a little sorry for her. I always envied Jasmine and Liam. They appear to have the perfect marriage. Totally in lust with each other and living the dream. A nice house, amazing jobs and no worries. Not like Adrian and me, where the passion in our relationship died out years ago. Sex is once a week in the missionary position, followed by separate showers and a floor length nightie. I’m guessing Jasmine wouldn’t be seen dead in one of my nighties and probably has a vast wardrobe full of sexy outfits to tempt her husband, who has every reason to look smug most of the time.
How I wish I was Jasmine and how I wish Adrian was Liam.
I suppose I’ve developed a bit of a crush on my charismatic neighbour. He is devastatingly handsome, well dressed, loaded with money and a decent guy to boot. He’s funny, provides good conversation and appears caring and attentive. Adrian, by comparison, appears middle-aged and boring and I don’t find him interesting anymore.
Jasmine looks at me keenly and says bluntly, “What’s the problem?”
“How do you know it’s a problem?”
“Because I read people and you’re nervous as hell. Whatever it is, you can tell me and know it won’t go any further. It’s something I take very seriously, my moral code, that is, and I want to help—if I can.”
My shoulders sag and I notice Jasmine fix Liam with a look that has him backing out of the room with a jovial, “Well, somebody here needs to do some work. Let me know when you’re ready to order takeout and I’ll take care of it.”
“Takeout?”
Jasmine grins. “At least we eat when it’s takeout night. In fact, only Tuesdays and Thursdays aren’t. Then Liam cooks.”
She laughs and I raise my glass to hers. “Respect.”
She nods and then says again more firmly, “Go on then.”
Setting my glass down, I sigh and say sadly, “It’s Ryan. He’s found out some information that I’m not sure is ethical, but I can’t let it slide.”
“What is it?”
Jasmine looks interested and I lower my voice.
“You know what kids are like his age and he embraces the technical world a little to keenly for my liking. Well, to cut a long story short, he has a drone that he likes to play with occasionally.”
I almost can’t look at Jasmine because I’m sure she’s horrified and probably wondering where else he points his equipment, but I carry on, regardless.
“Anyway, it turns out that he filmed one of the rooms in that strange house that backs onto Esme.”
“The one with the pretty pink door?”
She leans forward and I can tell I have her full attention.
“Yes. Well, he has footage of one of the bedrooms and it’s a little disturbing.”
“Good god, they didn’t decorate it in flocked paper, did they? That is shocking.”
Jasmine laughs and I can tell she is joking to lighten the mood that has darkened quicker than daylight in winter.
“The thing is, Jasmine, it wasn’t decorated at all. In fact, the only things in there were a large bed covered in a black sheet with no other bedding. There was a camera on a tripod set up at the foot of it and a wooden chair to the side.”
“Whoa, now you’re talking.”
Jasmine laughs and pours us another glass. “I think I love your son; this is gossip gold. Carry on.”
I stare at her in surprise and can’t help saying, “But he’s invaded their privacy, it’s against the law.”
“It doesn’t look as if they care about the law. I mean, that guy was seriously weird when I saw him but this, I knew something was going on.”
“What do you think—is going on, I mean?”
“Who knows but whatever it is, it’s not your average evening in suburbia.”
“So, what do you think, should we report it or something?”
Jasmine leans back and considers her response. “I’m guessing they could explain that away easily enough and the person who has the explaining to do will be Ryan. No, I think we need to tread carefully and do some investigative work ourselves. Leave it with me and I’ll run a few checks and see if I can find out the history of the purchase. That may help give us the answers we need, but until then, keep your eyes open and an ear to the ground. If there is anything sinister going on, we’re on the case.”
Our conversation switches to gossiping about the other residents, mainly the Wickham’s and by the time they’re ready to order their food, I’m feeling a little better.
Thank goodness for Jasmine, I can leave this in her capable hands and carry on with my mundane life free from drama and intrigue. The only thing I now have to worry about is making sure that Ryan keeps it legal in the future.