Page 39 of Six Steps to Happiness
“Spirits. Ghosts. Whatever it is they’re called these days.”
Ronnie almost whimpered.
“Of course, I told her she was talking rubbish.”
“Of course,” Ronnie repeated.
“I said I’ve never heard anything so daft in my life.” He took another sip of tea. “I’ve never believed in any of that stuff. In my view, once we’re gone, we’re gone.”
“Quite.”
“The woman was adamant she’d seen something though. Of course, we just had to figure out what that something was. I mean, there had to be some plausible explanation.”
Ronnie crossed her fingers in the hope that any conclusion didn’t involve her. “And was there?” she asked, not really sure she wanted Mr Wright to continue.
“That’s the thing. She said the more she thought about it, the more she realised she wasn’t looking at a vision in white at all.” He drank some more tea. “She was looking at you.”
Ronnie froze. “Me?” Mrs Wright hadn’t said a word to her about any of this.
“Yes. In next door’s front bedroom of all places.”
28
Willing herself not to appear guilty, Ronnie let out a pretend laugh. Her neighbour, however, remained deadly serious. Ronnie swallowed hard, reminding herself that Mrs Wright could make as many claims as she wanted, there was no physical evidence to put Ronnie inside next door. “I don’t know why she’d think that,” Ronnie said.
Mr Wright suddenly smiled her way, but any joy he tried to portray failed to show in his eyes; they seemed to say something different altogether. Ronnie’s discomfort increased as she wondered where he was taking their little chat. She put down her cup and, resting her forearms on the table, breathed a little deeper.
“I suggested she might be imagining things, but Mrs Wright does know her own mind.”
Ronnie scoffed to herself. Only a moment before, he was suggesting the woman didn’t. Ronnie recalled her mother-in-law’s prior conversation about the vultures that circled following the death of Nick’s dad. Bea had cautioned her about Mr Wright, and it was beginning to sound like Ronnie should have listened.
“And she was having none of it.”
Wherever their talk was headed, Ronnie knew from his expression that he thought he had the upper hand. However, she was done with men thinking they could get the better of her. Mr Wright clearly expected a reaction, a sign of panic or desperation from Ronnie, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she sat silently staring back at him, remaining outwardly calm as she listened to what he had to say on the matter. She thought it strange how she’d never noticed the droplets of spittle in the corners of his mouth before. Or clocked the creepy tone of the voice coming out of it. Every word sounded unnecessarily drawn out. He was obviously getting something out of Ronnie’s unease, even if she was trying to hide it.
“And then when I heard about the funny stuff going on next door, it was easy to put two and two together. You, the spurned wife. Gaye the other woman…”
Again, Ronnie refused to react.
“Mrs Wright was all for going over and telling number eight what she saw. Naturally, I persuaded her not to. Well, you don’t, do you? Interfere in other people’s business?” He reached over and placed a hand over Ronnie’s.
Staring at the palm wrapped around her fingers, Ronnie felt sick. Her skin crawled under the man’s touch.
“Of course, I could convince her I was wrong. Tell her that I think differently now, that she should be honest, having had the chance to think about it. I mean, why keep a secret if there’s no reward?”
Continuing to stare at Mr Wright’s hand, Ronnie let their conversation sink in. Bile rose in her throat as she considered what Mr Wright was suggesting. Sex for his and Mrs Wright’s silence. Anger welled inside of her, while pictures of the ever-so-respectable Mr Wright flitted through her mind. The way he opened car doors for his wife, held her hand in the street and chatted amiably with his neighbours like any good fellow would. When all along he was a predator. A predator wearing a mask.
The room fell silent apart from Charlie’s bone chomping; a bone that Ronnie wanted to snatch from the yellow Lab and ram down Mr Wright’s throat. She looked from the man’s hand, to his face. Taking in his smug expression, he still seemed to think he had the upper hand.
She slid her palm from underneath Mr Wright’s. “Do this often?” Ronnie asked. “Blackmail women for sex?”
Mr Wright licked his lips. “What you see as blackmail, I see ascoming to an arrangement.”
Ronnie scoffed. “Phrase it how you want, Mr Wright, but you’re still a dirty old man. Someone who resorts to extortion to get your leg over.” Ronnie knew she sounded vulgar, but that’s exactly what the situation she found herself in was. “I’m guessing it isn’t the first time you’ve done this? Watching and waiting, until the time is ripe. But I’m not the vulnerable little woman you had me down for, Mr Wright. I think your wife’s alleged visions should have told you that.”
Mr Wright opened his mouth to say something, but Ronnie had long heard enough from him.
“Excuse me, you’ve had your say. Now I’m talking.”
