Watched: When Road Rage Follows You Home by Kerry Wilkinson Page A

the slightly open window. She began having outlandish thoughts about how someone with an old coat-hanger could sneak around the side of the house and hook it open, leaping into the house while her back was turned and she was unable to hear anything because of the noise from the mower. That meant she had to peer around the side of the house each time she turned too. Then she had to check through the glass after each length of the lawn to ensure no-one was waiting in the kitchen for her.
    By the time she’d mowed a third of the garden, Esther had a full routine: push the mower half the length of the garden, stop, peer around the side of the house to make sure there was no-one there, look through the kitchen window for anything untoward, run her finger the length of the open slit to ensure it couldn’t open any further, empty the grass into the bin. Repeat.
    Because of the interruptions, it took Esther an hour-and-a-half to do something she should have been able to manage in thirty or forty minutes.
    With the grass finally cut and the bin full, she stopped to get her breath, sitting on the lawn and running wisps of loose grass through her fingers. The area had been transformed, with the garden so much bigger than it appeared when they’d first moved in. She tried to relax but knew she couldn’t while the window was open. In a flurry of movement, she unlocked the back door, dashed inside, pulled the extension cord through and then locked everything again before returning to the garden.
    Much better.
    She lay back and closed her eyes. It was another glorious morning: warm and sunny but with a delicate, cooling breeze.
    Just as Esther was beginning to feel relaxed, she heard a crack from the hedge behind her, jumping into a sitting position and spinning all in one go. Patch was edging underneath the bush but stopped at her sudden movement, ears pointed and high as if asking for permission.
    Esther stretched her hand out. ‘Come on, fella, it’s a bit different around here today.’
    Patch slinked closer, looking almost as spooked as she felt. Esther wondered how long he’d been creeping through the reeds of their garden: now it was flat. He allowed her to stroke his back, peering at her expectantly, planting the thought in her mind. Esther told him to wait as she disappeared towards the house – unlock, get food and water, relock, check the handle. Patch was sitting patiently in the centre of the lawn as Esther returned. He gobbled down the tin of food and lapped at the water, before rolling onto his side, eyes lolling lazily. Esther lay next to him, fingering the area on his neck where the skin had been burned away.
    Finally, she felt calm. The lack of sleep and constant edginess had left her body flooded with exhaustion, broken only by a desire to get things done. The quicker everything was finished, the faster they would be able to get on with their lives.
    ‘Morning…’
    The cheery female voice made Esther sit up abruptly. The fence separating their house from Liz’s was tall across the back garden but only waist-high along the side area by their back door.
    Liz was resting on the lower fence with a mug of tea. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to say how nice it looks back there now.’
    Esther stood, brushing the loose grass from her clothes and peering around for Patch, who had bolted towards the hedge.
    Liz half-turned. ‘Sorry, love. If you’re busy, I’ll leave you to it.’
    ‘No, it’s okay. It’s nice to talk to someone.’
    Esther moved around to the side of the house, feeling for the door key in her pocket, reassured that it was still there.
    Liz nodded towards the front of the house. ‘Did you sort the thing with your car?’
    ‘Yes, no worries.’
    ‘And you’ve not had any other problems?’
    Esther thought about letting on about everything but the other woman already had her own ideas about Dougie and everything was so circumstantial. Even if any of it was provable, Liz