Revenge of the Tide (35 page)

I’ve got quite good at getting this right, but it still takes a long time. The more thorough I am, the less likely I’ll find myself on the path behind the house cursing my carelessness and checking my watch.

The door is particularly bad. At least in the last place, that poky basement in Kilburn, I had my own front door. Here I have to check and re-check the flat door properly six or twelve times, and then the communal front door as well.

The flat in Kilburn did have a front door but nothing at all at the back, no back door, no windows. It was like living in a cave. I didn’t have an escape route, which meant that I never felt really safe in there. Here, things are much better: I have French doors which lead onto a small balcony. Just below that is the roof of the shed which is shared with the other flats, although I don’t know if anyone else uses it. I can get out of the French doors, jump down to the shed roof, and from there down onto the grass. Through the garden and out the gate into the alleyway at the back. I can do it in less than half a minute.

Sometimes I have to go back and check the flat door again. If one of the other tenants has left the front door on the latch again I definitely have to check the flat door. Anyone could have been in.

This morning, for example, was one of the worst.

Not only was the front door on the latch, it was actually slightly ajar. As I reached for it, a man in a suit pushed it open towards me which made me jump. Behind him, another man, younger, tall, wearing jeans and a hooded top. Dark hair cropped close to his head, unshaven, tired green eyes. He gave me a smile, and mouthed ‘sorry’, which helped.

Suits still freak me out. I tried not to look at the suit at all, but I heard it say as it went up the stairs, ‘…this one’s only just become available, you’ll have to move fast if you want it.’

A lettings agent, then.

The Chinese students who’d been on the top floor must have finally decided to move on. They weren’t students any more, they graduated in the summer – the party they’d had had gone on all night, while I lay in my bed underneath listening to the sound of feet marching up and down the stairs. The front door had been on the latch all night. I’d barricaded myself in by pushing the dining table against the flat door, but the noise had kept me awake and anxious.

I watched the second man following the suit up the stairs.

To my horror the man in jeans turned halfway up the first flight and gave me another smile, a rueful one this time, raising his eyes as if he was already sick of the letting agent’s voice. I felt myself blushing furiously. It’s been a long time since I made eye contact with a stranger.

I listened to the footsteps heading up to the top floor, meaning they’d gone past my front door. I checked my watch – a quarter past eight already! I couldn’t just go and leave them inside the house.

I shut the front door firmly and unclipped the latch, checking that it had shot home by rattling the door a few times. With my fingertips I traced around the edge of the doorframe, feeling that the door was flush with the frame. I turned the doorknob six times, to make sure it was properly closed. One, two, three, four, five, six. Then the doorframe again. Then the doorknob, six times. One, two, three, four, five, six. Then the latch. Once, and again. Then the doorframe. Lastly the knob, six times.

I felt the relief that comes when I manage to do this properly.

Then I marched back up to the flat, fuming that these two idiots were going to make me late.

I sat on the edge of my bed for a while with my eyes lifted to the ceiling, as if I could see them through the plaster and the rafters. All the time I was fighting the urge to start checking the window locks again.

I concentrated on my breathing, my eyes closed, trying to calm my racing heart. They won’t be long, I told myself. He’s only looking. They won’t be long. Everything is fine. The flat is safe. I’m safe. I did it properly before. The front door is shut. Everything is fine.

Every so often a small sound made me jump, even though it seemed to come from a long way away. A cupboard door banging? Maybe. What if they’d opened a window up there? I could hear a vague murmur, far too far away to make out words. I wondered what price they were asking for it – it might be nicer to be higher up. But then I wouldn’t have the balcony. As much as I love being out of reach, having an escape route is just as important.

I checked my watch – nearly a quarter to nine. What the fuck were they doing up there? I made the mistake of glancing at the bedroom window, and then of course I had to check it. And that started me off, so I had to start again at the door, and I was on my second round, standing on the lid of the toilet, feeling my way with my fingertips around the edge of the frosted window which doesn’t even open, when I heard the door shutting upstairs and the sound of footsteps on the stairs outside.

‘…nice safe area, at least. Never need to worry about leaving your car outside.’

‘Yeah, well, I’d probably get the bus. Or I might use my bike.’

‘I think there’s a communal shed in the garden; I’ll check when we get back to the office.’

‘Cheers. I’d probably leave it in the hallway.’

Leave it in the hallway? Bloody cheek. It was untidy enough as it was. But then, maybe someone other than me would make a point of locking the front door.

I finished off the check, and then did the flat door. Not too bad. I waited for it, the anxiety, the need to go round and start again, but it was okay. I’d done it right, and only two times. The house was silent, which made things easier. Best of all, this time the front door was firmly fastened, indicating that the man in jeans had shut it properly behind him. Maybe he wouldn’t be a bad tenant after all.

It was nearly nine-thirty by the time I finally got to the Tube.

 

 

Elizabeth Haynes grew up in Sussex. She works as a police intelligence analyst and lives in Kent with her husband and son. Her first novel
Into the Darkest Corner
was Amazon’s Best Book of the Year, winner of Rising Stars and featured on the Specsavers TV Book Club.
Revenge of the Tide
is her second novel.