Another day, another costume, except this time it’s Halloween, and this time I’m picking what I get to wear – Millsy too. I can’t be mad at him about this morning, it’s not his fault that Nick got upset, not really. Everything is such a mess with all the lying and the manipulating, and Millsy was only trying to help.
He has promised me, no questions asked, that he will help me fix things with Nick – to whatever degree is possible, just as soon as I think of something. Things felt a little fraught between us earlier and he’s my best friend, I don’t want that. So we agreed that we would forget about it for the rest of the day, and just enjoy the big Halloween party at my parents’ house. I did get him to agree to a double-act Halloween costume though, so tonight, we are Khal Drogo and Daenerys Targaryen from Game of Thrones, and we’ve nailed it.
It’s 5pm and we’ve arrived back in Outwood, ready to help Woody get ready for the party later. It’s cold and dark out, and weirdly, all the lights are off at home.
Millsy and I stare at each other, exchanging a “what the fuck” glance, no words needed.
‘Hello?’ I call out as we walk in through the unlocked door. ‘Woody?’
‘I’m in here,’ he calls out, from the kitchen, I think.
We head into the kitchen and find Woody sitting on the floor, in the dark.
‘Every time I come over, you’re doing something proper weird,’ I tell him.
Millsy flicks the light on.
‘No, don’t,’ Woody insists, but it’s too late.
I can’t help but notice that my brother is in his usual clothes.
‘You’re dressed as a…,’ I pretend to think about it. ‘Middle-aged bore,’ I conclude.
‘Oi, I didn’t spend ages helping you find a Spiderman onesie so that you could chicken out of wearing a costume – not after last year’s cringe-fest,’ Millsy insists. He’s referring to photos on Facebook from last Halloween, that show the “family” costume my brother, his wife and my nephew dressed in. ‘I guess not dressing up is preferable to the old man from Up, but only just.’
Yes, my brother did dress as the old man from Up. His tiny wife, Dani, dressed as the little boy and Robbie, my nephew, was the dog. It was as awful as it sounds. Spiderman is a much cooler choice, and Millsy has spent the best part of the last week trying to find this onesie for Woody.
‘Fuck you,’ Woody says to me. ‘And fuck you,’ he tells Millsy. ‘Guys, listen, I messed up.’
‘Yeah, you’ve been banging on all week about how you shouldn’t have got married so young, you want to be more like Millsy, blah blah,’ I state.
‘I’m pretty good hashtag: life goals,’ Millsy insists.
‘Yeah, if the life goal is to collect STDs like they’re Pokémon,’ I quip.
‘At least people will have sex with me because I’m not a big fucking Pokémon nerd,’ Millsy laughs.
‘Guys, listen,’ Woody snaps, seriously. ‘I really messed up.’
We both sit down on the floor next to him, me being careful not to pop a boob out of my Daenerys dress.
‘What’s up, bro?’ I ask. ‘You’re scaring me.’
He exhales deeply before he starts talking.
‘So I’ve been keeping an eye on Weird Ian,’ he starts. ‘I’m obsessed with what’s going on over there. I saw him go in there with a woman earlier…this keeps happening. A woman goes into the house with him, I see them moving around and then suddenly he leaves, and the woman is never seen again.’
‘You’ve still never seen a woman leave?’ I ask. ‘Ever?’
‘Nope. And I’ve been watching.’
I can tell from his tired eyes and nervous disposition that he really has been keeping an eye on things, and that what he’s saying, he is sure is true.
‘So how did you fuck up?’ Millsy asks.
‘Well, tonight I decided enough was enough. I needed to know what was going on…so I waited until it was dark and snuck over there. I climbed the fence into his back garden and I tried to look in the window.’
‘So what happened?’ I ask.
‘I knocked a plant off his garden table and the pot smashed. He heard and headed for the backdoor, so I ran back to our garden – I just made it in time.’
‘Well, there you go, no harm done,’ I reassure him.
My brother shakes his head solemnly.
‘OK, what harm did you do?’
‘I’d been using my phone for the torch,’ he tells us. ‘I must’ve dropped it in his back garden.’
‘You idiot,’ Millsy tells him. ‘Everyone knows: make sure you never leave any evidence at the scene of the crime.’
‘Like your DNA, or your name written in Sharpie on the bathroom wall,’ I remind him.
‘I still have no idea why I did that,’ he laughs.
I turn back to my brother.
‘What happened next?’ I ask.
‘He went back inside, and then he left not long after – no sign of the woman.’
‘So, just go get it.’
‘No way,’ my brother insists. ‘He’s up to something, I’m not getting strangled.’
‘Millsy?’
‘Fuck that,’ he laughs.
‘You two are supposed to be men,’ I remind them, but not even a swipe at their masculinity is going to talk them into it. ‘You’re both pathetic,’ I tell them. ‘I’ll go, because I’m not scared. And anyway, if you said he was out, then it’s no big deal.’
‘Go on then,’ Millsy laughs. ‘Reverse psychology won’t work on me, dude.’
I shake my head as I pull myself to my feet. The two main men in my life would sooner see me trespass in a potential serial killer’s garden, rather than risk it themselves.
I leave via the backdoor and make my way down to the end of the garden. I glance back and see that not only is the kitchen light off again, but I can just about make out my brother and Millsy peeping up from above the worktop. Pathetic.
I reach the fence at the bottom of the garden, the one that backs onto Ian’s garden, and wonder how the fuck I’m supposed to get over it. Not only am I at least seven inches shorter than my brother, but I’m wearing a long cream dress. Definitely not climbing attire.
What would Daenerys do? She’d be strong and resourceful. Or maybe she’d just have a dragon fly her over. The only pet we have back at home is a nameless fairground fish that just refuses to die, that’s not going to be much use to me.
I glance around the garden, spotting the toddler-sized F1 car that my dad prematurely and excitedly bought for Robbie. I push it up towards the fence and climb on top, using it as a boost to get over the wall. Just as I manage to get one leg over the top of the fence, my foot slips, sending the car flying. I manage to keep balanced on the top of the fence, but there’s no turning back now. I swing my other leg over and drop down on the other side into Ian’s garden.
I blow air out of my cheeks. Here we go. I creep in an almost crouched position across his garden, towards his house, carefully checking in the long unkempt grass for Woody’s iPhone. He said he was looking in the window, so my best bet is to look there.
There it is! I grab it, ready to turn on my heels and run, when curiosity gets the better of me and I peep in the window. My heart bangs hard against my chest the moment I realise that Ian is in the window, looking out, right into my eyes. Fuck, I thought Woody said he had gone out. And what’s that in his hand? No way. Is that…a woman’s head? I step back from the window in horror, but Ian is straight outside.
‘What are you doing on my property?’ he asks me, his stony face giving nothing away.
‘I, erm, well I came to tell you that we were having a Halloween party. Just to let you know we might be a bit loud, but that you could tell us to turn the music down or whatever if it’s disturbing you,’ I babble. ‘I tried the front door but you didn’t answer. I thought maybe you were backdoor people, you know how some people insist on everyone using the backdoor? My mum tried it once, it didn’t last. So yeah, I thought I’d try the backdoor, in case your mum is the same, and then I dropped my phone and…’ my voice trails off. I can’t help but stare at the “head” in his hands. He’s holding it by a fistful of hair but he’s in the shadows, so I can’t quite make it out. I don’t know what else it could be, all I need to know is that I need to get out of here.
‘My mum doesn’t live here any more,’ he tells me.
‘Oh, OK. Well, bye,’ I blurt.
‘Wait,’ Ian insists. ‘Stop right there. I know you’ve all been spying on me.’
‘Spying? What do you mean?’ I ask innocently.
‘Cut the crap,’ he snaps. ‘I can see your minions watching us right now.’
I glance back at my house just in time to see Millsy and Woody bob down. Those fucking idiots.
‘Look, it’s nothing to do with me,’ I tell him. ‘I just came to tell you about the party and now I’m going to go home.’
I make my way around the side of the house to leave out of the front garden – because I’ve no idea how I’m going to get back over that fence and also because the front garden isn’t secluded enough to murder me in.
I hear Ian follow me.
‘Stop,’ he calls after me. ‘Or I’ll call the police.’
We’re out of sight of my house now, and no one can see us.
‘Fine, call the police, I’m sure they’ll be interested in all the women who come over to your house and never leave,’ I say boldly, except I can’t hide how terrified I am and my voice wavers and cracks.
Ian laughs manically.
‘What’s so funny?’ I ask as Ian approaches me slowly. As he reaches me he raises the severed head to my eye level.
‘That’s a wig,’ I tell him.
‘I know it’s a wig,’ he replies. ‘What did you think it was, a head or something?’
Yes, but I’m not going to vocalise that.
‘It’s for my latest photography project,’ he tells me. ‘I’m photographing men in authoritative positions dressed as women.’
My brain spends a few seconds processing this. That’s why we see women in his house who never leave – we’re not seeing Ian make a hasty exit, we’re seeing the models leave in their normal clothes. That’s why we see him with his hands all over them, he’s making adjustments. That’s why he’s got a wig in his hand – not a human head.
‘Well, we saw you digging a hole in your back garden, and…’
‘I wasn’t digging a hole,’ he explains, ‘I was filling in a hole next door’s dog dug up.’
‘So, where’s your mum?’ I ask him.
‘In a home,’ he replies. ‘What on earth has been going through your heads?’
I laugh to myself.
‘Look, we are having a Halloween party if you’d like to come?’
‘I’d like that,’ he replies. ‘I’ve never been to a Halloween party. Do I have to dress up?’
‘It’s not a big deal if you don’t, but feel free,’ I tell him, suddenly feeling bad. It’s like the neighbourhood sex offender all over again – when will the three of us learn to stop judging books by their covers? Just because Ian is introverted, we just went nought-to-serial killer.
‘Can I bring anything?’ he asks. ‘Anything to eat or drink?’
‘If you like,’ I tell him.
‘OK, I’ll bring soup,’ he replies.
‘OK,’ I say with a laugh. ‘See you in a couple of hours.’
Having left via the front of Ian’s house, it takes me at least five minutes to get back to my parents’ place. As I walk up the driveway, Millsy and Woody come rushing out. Woody is armed with a baseball bat, Millsy with a lighter and can of deodorant.
‘Ruby, you’re OK,’ Woody gasps happily.
‘I’m fine. It was all a big misunderstanding,’ I assure them. ‘But, before I tell you all about it, were you just coming to save me with a baseball bat and a DIY flame-thrower?’
The boys nod sheepishly.
I smile, touched, until I realise Woody is wearing his Spiderman onesie.
‘I see you found time to put your costume on,’ I notice, raising my eyebrows in disbelief.
‘Rubes, I spent hours tracking that onesie down, you know that,’ Millsy reminds me. ‘Plus, it would’ve looked badass – and if we’d made the news…’
I shake my head in despair.
‘Let’s just get ready for the party,’ I say. ‘And I’ll tell you what happened with Ian while we do – I invited him to the party, by the way.’
‘So Weird Ian isn’t weird?’ Woody asks.
‘Oh, he’s definitely weird,’ I tell them. ‘He’s bringing soup.’