The Neighbours: A gripping, addictive novel with a twist that will leave you breathless. Hannah McKinnon Mary
he made wide eyes at me, too.”
I tried not to laugh. “So, what did you say?”
She sniffed. “That being a girl and liking fashion and video games aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“Good comeback.”
“I know, right? I said Dad practically raised me on Tomb Raider. Told him I dressed up as Lara Croft for years.” She laughed. “Remember the rucksack I filled with Medipacks we made from empty toilet rolls? I spent hours with that thing strapped to my back upside down, running around the garden with water pistols.”
I smiled as I recalled the memory, a time when things had been so much easier between us. “And you won best Halloween costume at school.”
“Twice.” Her smile disappeared all too quickly and was replaced with a frown. “Seriously, Zac’s such an idiot.”
“He definitely sounds arrogant,” I said, making sure to tread carefully. “And just because he lives next door doesn’t mean you have to have anything to do with him.”
She crossed her arms. “I couldn’t care less if I never see him again. Him living next door will have nugatory effects on my life.”
“Nugatory?”
“It means trifling, inconsequential,” she said proudly. “I got it from that Word of the Day calendar you gave me.”
After that, she asked me for advice on her homework. And when she read her presentation out to me, her eyes and voice eager for praise, I gave it to her by the bucket load. She was probably wondering about the source of my continually sprightly mood, and, knowing the somewhat cynical view of the world I’d bestowed on my daughter, she maybe even speculated I had a bag full of uppers.
I sighed. Now that I’d driven far away enough from home I could admit the truth to myself. The past few days had been hell. At first I’d been in a state of panic after seeing Liam on Saturday, then it had given way to curiosity, which was worse because everyone knows the saying about what it did to the cat.
For the past three mornings, I’d either left even earlier than usual, or made sure Liam’s car was gone before I ventured outside. As soon as I got home Monday evening, I’d tidied up the garage so I could park my car in there, avoiding a chance encounter. When I saw him again it had to be on my terms. I wanted—no, needed—to be prepared.
Of course, I knew my attempt of grabbing the upper hand was window dressing. I reasoned if I was able to control my actions, then maybe I’d become master of my thoughts, too. I’d hardly stopped thinking about him. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he thinking about me? About us? What would he say the next time I saw him? Because, inevitably, there would be a next time.
At night I lay in bed awake, wondering if he was making love to Nancy, and it made my stomach churn. I imagined his lips and fingers gliding over her skin and her silky soft curves, the memory of me a transparent ghost floating somewhere at the back of his mind, whispering to him, demanding attention yet remaining entirely ignored. Then again, maybe while he was thrusting into her he imagined she was me. Like I did when I was with Nate.
The surprised expression on my husband’s face when I’d walked down the stairs in my new underwear a while earlier had quickly given way to a look of utter devotion. It almost made me rush back to the bedroom and pull my clothes on. But it wasn’t cheating, not technically. And I wanted...well, not Nate, not exactly, but I needed to feel his desire for me, both physical and otherwise, so I could keep pretending it was enough.
That it had ever been enough.
THE DRAUGHT GOT to me a few minutes after Abby left, so I forced myself up. I grabbed the tartan pajama bottoms Sarah had given me one Christmas, and rescued my badly crumpled Genesis T-shirt from the floor. I was pulling on my left sock when the doorbell rang.
“Oh...hi, Nate.” Liam smiled when I opened the front door, and I noticed how sharp he looked. His long black coat, charcoal gray suit, blue shirt and paisley tie made me feel like a hobo. He indicated behind him with his thumb. “I’m in luck. I thought I saw your car leave.”
“Abby must’ve taken it. She’s gone to get Indian for dinner.”
“Yum.” He patted his flat middle. Funny, I’d imagined he thought carbs were witchcraft.
I frowned. “So...?”
Liam cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, I’m glad I caught you.” A slight shrug. “Uh...do you know any good repairmen? The, ah, heating’s a bit...weird.”
“Weird? Has it turned into the TARDIS or something?”
He laughed. “No, but that would be cool. It made these, uh, clunking noises last night. Nancy didn’t hear a thing. Never does when she’s asleep. But I don’t want it dying on us, you know?”
“Want me to come and have a look at it?”
“Oh, no.” He held up his hands. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“Come in for a sec.” I waved him inside. “You’ll freeze your nads off.” As I closed the door behind him, I added, “I don’t mind giving you a hand. Doesn’t make sense to call a repairman if it’s an easy fix.”
“Well...only if you’re sure?”
“’Course. I’m playing volleyball tomorrow. How about Friday evening?”
“Yeah, great, thanks. It’ll give Nancy another reason to cook you dinner.”
“Oh?” That sounded intriguing.
“Yeah, she wants to invite you all over soon.” He grinned. “Keep you in our good books. I’ve always had two left hands when it comes to anything manual. Much to her despair.”
Of course that was why Nancy wanted me to come over. Why else would it be? I laughed at my stupidity. “No worries. I got my DIY knowledge from my grandfather. Taught me everything I know.” I nodded toward him. “Looks like you’re just getting back from work.”
“Yeah.” Liam stretched out his neck and loosened his tie, then stuffed it into his coat pocket. “Long day.”
“Finance, isn’t it? That’s what you said the other night?”
“Yup. Typical banker, I’m afraid. But I’m one of the good guys. Honest.” He held up his fingers in a Boy Scout salute.
I grinned, thinking some male company might not be too bad for a while, seeing as I was permanently outnumbered in my house. Even our dead cat had had a pair of ovaries, for Christ’s sake. “Got time for a beer?”
He seemed to hesitate again. “Won’t Abby mind?”
“’Course not. And she won’t be back for half an hour anyway. She probably went to the Funky Bombay.”
Liam laughed out loud. “The Funky Bombay?”
“Yeah. It’s farther away but worth it. I’ll give you the address if you like. Dump your coat on the banister and go on through to the back.”
As we walked across the hall I saw Liam look at Tom’s picture. His steps slowed, and I wondered if he’d ask about the guy in the picture. It happened sometimes, and the photograph was the first thing Abby had hung up when we’d moved in. “I want it on the landing,” she’d said, handing me the hammer and nails. “So I can say good-morning and good-night to him when I walk past. You don’t mind, do you?”
Of course I didn’t mind. Although, and I knew this was a selfish bastard attitude, I sometimes resented Tom, but at least I felt like a prick for thinking it. He still had such a solid grip on Abby, unrelenting and strong. I wanted her to move past the accident. Not forget—you can’t forget something like that—but I wanted her to forgive