Free Fourteen Days by Steven Jenkins Page A

Back to my old life. Maybe I’ ll organize a work’s night out. We haven’t had one of those in a while. Invite Nic as well. That’s if she’ll go along this time. I could ask some of the boys to come too. Make a big night of it.
    As the soap washed away from his eyes, he opened them. Looking straight ahead, the blur in his vision faded. The silhouette of a figure moved past the outside of the steamy glass.
    His heart slammed against his chest as he stared at the dark shadow. Frozen, he watched it move toward the open bathroom door, and out onto the landing. Almost hyperventilating with horror, he turned off the water and slid the glass door open a few inches. “Nic?” he yelled, as he poked his head out. His voice was quivery, his body shivering from the cold and fright as he explored the empty room. “You home?”
    With no reply, he got out and covered his midsection with the towel. “Nic? Don’t piss about now. It’s not funny.” Creeping toward the door, he clenched both fists, his body hunched. Each wet footstep slapped against the cold tiled floor as he reached the landing. Holding his breath as he stepped out on the soft carpet, he turned his head to check both sides of the landing. Each side was deserted. Still gripped with fear, he edged to the banister and peered over, looking down at the hallway. “Nic? You home? Nicky?”
    Still no reply.
    Unsure of what to do next, he remained on the landing, cold and half-naked. The slightest sound made him tense up in panic. His neck cricked from turning back and forth, checking every corner of the landing.
    Jesus Christ, what was that? This ain’ t right. Something’s going on here. This can’t just be coincidence .
    He shook his head, unable to fathom the situation. This is getting out of hand now. I can’t go on like this.

    “Oh, hi, Ilene, how’ve you been? Everything all right?” Richard politely asked his elderly neighbor.
    Smiling when she realized who it was at her door, she leaned in close. Her thin body was covered in a thick blue dressing gown, her white hair tied back loosely. “Hello, Richard. I haven’t seen you in a while. Have you been away somewhere on holiday?”
    “No, not this year,” he replied, shaking his head. “Just been tied up with work. The usual stuff.”
    “You’re a busy little man. I hope you’re spending some of your time with your lovely wife Nicola.”
    Fake-smiling as the guilt resurfaced, he changed the subject. “Yes, thanks. Ilene, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about my house.” He leaned against the stone doorway as he waited for a reply.
    “Your house? Yes, no problem, Richard. Anything the matter?”
    “No, nothing’s wrong—just a few things I wouldn’t mind finding out.”
    “What sort of things?”
    “Do you remember who lived in the house before the last man?”
    Looking up as she tried to remember, she played with the collar of her dressing gown. “Let me think. Let me think. Mmmm …if I’m not mistaken there’s only been two other owners of your house—the last owner, Mr. Young, and Mr. and Mrs. Rees.” She thought for a few seconds, and then nodded. “Yes, that’s it. No one else. Just them. Nigel and me were one of the first people to live on this street back in the eighties. We bought it brand new. Then a few months later, Nancy and Steve moved into your house. Very nice couple. Always polite. Always chatty.”
    “Did the last owner, Mr. Young, have a wife? I only met the man once when Nic and I had our first house-viewing. Everything else was through the estate agent.”
    “No,” she replied, shaking her head. “He wasn’t the talkative type. But he did have a girlfriend. She stayed over most nights. Never knew her name though. Never even spoke to her. Hardly ever came out.”
    “And what did she look like? Do you remember?”
    “Well, she wasn’t a girl you’d easily forget.”
    “What do you mean?” he asked, intrigued.
    “Well, she was one of