As I passed the pool, something caught my eye: a glint of orange light reflected at the spot where a jet of water created ripples, and that was strange because there were no sources of warm-coloured light outside at all. Everything looked chilly and blue.
I scanned the surroundings, trying to spot where the light was coming from, but I couldn’t find it, and when I looked back at the pool the shimmer had vanished, so I started again towards the house, only for a noise to make me stop once more. I held my breath until I had located the origin. The sound was coming from the outhouse.
I approached the window and saw a tiny glint of light leaking out at the bottom of the blind – the same orange light I’d seen reflected in the pool. I was about to crouch down to peer in when I recognised the sound I was hearing, that regular thud, thud, thud . . .
Blushing, I returned to the house. You idiot, I thought. Just because you don’t have sex any more, you assume that nobody else does. But of course they do!
Thinking that it was considerate of them at least to do it in the outhouse, I returned to the bedroom, but Ant’s absence was still bothering me. My brain was working pretty slowly that evening, I’ll admit, and I can only assume it was to do with all the alcohol I still had sloshing around my veins.
I went back to the kitchen and looked out at the unlit courtyard and tried to think. There was no way that Ant would have gone to the neighbours’ place alone, of that much I was sure. I returned to the children’s room and inspected the beds more closely, but other than the fact that Ben and Lucy had swapped places, all was as it should be.
I checked the two unused bedrooms, but they were both untouched and musty smelling. Finally, I hesitated outside Joe and Amy’s room. I listened for a moment and heard the sound of snoring coming from within. It sounded a lot like Ant, so – smiling and thinking, Lord, how drunk was he? – I pushed the door open. The hinges creaked loudly but the occupant of the bed continued to snore.
I opened the door further until a little light from the kitchen fell across the bed, and then crept across the room to look. As I leaned over, I could smell wine and unfamiliar sweat – it was Joe lying there, smiling as he snored. I wondered what he was dreaming about.
I closed the creaky door once again and pinched the bridge of my nose as I tried to think. Perhaps the two neighbours were ‘at it’ in our shed? But I couldn’t come up with any reason why it would be them. Perhaps it was some local kids, or maybe the owners?
I returned to the front door, let myself out and crossed the warm paving stones to the outhouse. The rhythmic thudding from within was still ongoing, and wasn’t that a grunt I’d heard? I brushed the doorknob with my fingers, but then imagined bursting in on the boys from down the road or perhaps some strangers, so I walked to the window instead. Feeling like a peeping Tom, I crouched down to press my nose against the pane, but the chink of visibility was tiny and all I could see was a vague blur of flesh.
I straightened and returned to the door, where, after taking a deep breath, I reached for the handle. My heart was beating so fast and so hard that I could hear the blood surging through my veins as I pushed at the door. It was locked. Strangely, I hadn’t imagined that possibility. I rattled the door handle, but the only thing that happened was that the noises stopped. A voice inside whispered something.
I needed to know, I realised. Whatever this was, I had to know. It was too late to walk away. So I rattled the handle again, and then with a croaky voice that surprised me, I called out, ‘Who’s in there, please?’
There was no answer, so I called out again, more assertively, ‘Hello, who’s in there, please?’ The silence was absolute. Even the distant dog had stopped barking.
After thirty seconds or so, I heard a rustling noise, and then a voice said, ‘Just open it.’ There was a pause and the sound of the bolt sliding back before the door opened to reveal Ant, fully clothed, looking flushed. Behind him, Amy was sitting in a dusty old armchair, but even by the orange light of the old torch they were using I could see that her cheeks were red.
‘Heather,’ Ant said. Amazingly, he managed to sound irritated and perhaps even bored by the interruption.
‘Christ,’ I said, breathing the word more than saying it. ‘It is you.’ A batch of bile rose, and I had to swallow it back down to avoid being sick.
‘It’s, um, not what you think,’ Ant said, sounding vague. He didn’t seem to be able to find the energy to try to sound convincing. ‘We were just . . .’ He glanced over his shoulder at Amy and shrugged at her.
I laughed then, a sour, crazy, witchy sort of laugh that just erupted from nowhere. ‘You were just what?’ I asked, swiping at a couple of tears that were sliding down my cheeks. I couldn’t tell you if they were tears of laughter, or tears of anger. Perhaps it’s possible that they were both.
‘We were just—’ Anthony said again, but he still hadn’t come up with a suitable alibi.
‘Oh, for
