The Neighbour From Hell, page 16
At a time when my family should have been sticking together like glue—we were disintegrating. Melanie met her older boyfriend, Timothy, and moved in with him. We rarely saw her again. The last time I heard from her, she was living in Scotland. That was years ago. I have no idea where she is now.
Dad left us too. He and his new girlfriend, Gillian, also got a place together. I saw them a couple of times after the trial, but we too lost contact. It was just mum, and I. Mum was at her self-pitying best. Blaming me for everything. Bullying me non-stop and then turning the blame on me for making her angry. Not even achieving good grades made her happy. She was hell to live with.
And I knew that one day I was going to snap.
Chapter 37 - Felicity
On Monday morning, I watched Stephanie through my bedroom window. She pottered around her front garden while drinking something out of a tea mug. I moved when her eyes jumped up to my window. Then, I heard Lance's voice.
He and Stephanie chatted and giggled over the garden hedge. Stephanie flicked her hair back behind her ears. It was plain to see she was flirting with Lance. Alice came out onto the front path and gave Stephanie a high five. I moved from the window and called Daisy on my phone. "Daisy, it's me, Felicity."
"Hi, Felicity," she replied, a little hesitantly. "How are you?"
"Good. Can we meet?"
"Felicity—"
"It's important. Are you free this morning?"
"Yes,” she said with a sigh. “Is 9:30 okay?"
"That's fine," I said. "See you then."
***
Lance was coming into the house as I made my way downstairs. He leaned on the bannister.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Out."
"Out where?"
"Excuse me, please," I said, brushing by him. I put on my coat and scarf. "I don't have to tell you everything."
"Felicity, this can't go on," Lance said.
"I know."
"So stop and talk to me," he pleaded.
"I've tried talking to you, Lance. You never listen."
"I'm listening to you now."
"I've told you how Stephanie makes me feel. Yet, you stand there giggling with her on the doorstep."
"She's our neighbour. It's what neighbours do."
"And I'm your wife. Maybe you should try to remember that."
"Dad?" Alice shouted.
"Felicity, wait. Please tell me where you're going."
"Look after Rosie until I get back," I asked him before I slammed the front door behind me.
***
I arrived at Driven at 8:45 am. Colleagues, bar Stephanie, were arriving for work. Lucas was by the coffee machine when I entered the building. We smiled at each other before I headed straight upstairs to Daisy's office.
"Hi, Felicity," Daisy said when I entered. We hugged each other. "Take a seat."
"Thanks for agreeing to see me."
"It's all right. Are you okay? You sounded anxious on the phone."
"I need some information on Stephanie."
"Talk about getting to the point,” Daisy said. “What kind of information?"
"She must have filled out an application form when she applied for this job. I want the name of her previous employer."
Daisy's eyebrows pulled down in confusion. "What for?"
"It's important."
"That’s confidential information. I can't go rooting through Stephanie's personal details."
"But you can sack me and give her my job?"
"This is becoming an obsession."
"I'm only asking for a name."
"No."
This was going to be harder than I thought. But I wasn’t prepared to give up.
"You won't get into any trouble,” I told her. “Nobody would ever know."
"Why can't you leave this alone?"
"And let her destroy my family?"
Apprehension roared in my gut as Daisy started typing. "She was very vague, but she mentioned she worked for a law firm in London called Macintosh and Stone."
"London?"
"Yes. That's all I'm willing to say."
I got my phone and typed Mackintosh and Stone into the notes app. "Thanks," I said before heading towards the door.
"Would it make any difference if I asked you not to do whatever it is you're planning to do?" Daisy asked.
"No."
***
On my way out, I saw my office door open. When I looked inside, it was empty. Stephanie hadn't arrived yet.
Sneaking up to the desk, I switched on the laptop and logged into her account. I knew her login details. The stupid idiot had never changed them. Loading her emails, I composed a new email, telling all members of staff that they were about to receive a bonus of one-thousand-pounds. Exhilaration fizzled in my chest as I pressed send. I switched off the laptop and headed towards the door. Stephanie was just coming in.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. Alarm flickered in her eyes.
"I had an appointment to see Daisy."
"I mean, what are you doing in here? This is my office now."
I crossed my arms. "I better leave you to it, then," I said airily.
I closed the office door behind me. Stephanie made me sick. I couldn't bear to breathe the same air as her.
Lucas was standing by his office door on my way downstairs. "Hi, Felicity," he said. His eyes searched my face.
"Hi, Lucas, “I replied.
"I texted you, but I never got a reply. The offer is still open," he said quietly. His eyes scanned the office for eavesdroppers.
"And let Stephanie win?" I asked.
"You've got to put yourself first."
"Don't worry. I intend to."
I carried on walking until I reached my car. When I got inside, I searched for Mackintosh and Stone on my phone and landed on their website. I clicked the contact tab and pressed the telephone icon next to the telephone number. "Good morning, Mackintosh and Stone, Caroline speaking," said a cheery voice.
"Good morning. May I speak to Stephanie Bryant, please?"
"Stephanie Bryant?"
"I was told she works there."
"Who's speaking?"
"I'm an old friend. Gaynor," I lied.
"Stephanie no longer works for us."
"Do you know where's she working now? Or how I could contact her?"
"I'm afraid Stephanie's dead."
I froze in astonishment. "Dead?"
"She died a few years ago."
"I see."
"I am very sorry."
"How dreadful. Thank you for your help."
"It's okay. Take care."
"Bye."
I pressed the phone to my chest. Stephanie stated that Mackintosh and Stone were her previous employers. But, according to them, Stephanie was dead. Why would they think she was dead? Had she faked her death? Because Stephanie was very much alive. A cold tremor shot down my back. Now, I knew she was hiding something.
***
When I got home, I headed straight up to the study. Lance went off to work. Rosie was asleep in the nursery. I planned to spend the morning digging up all I could about my parasite neighbour.
As I searched the Internet for Stephanie Bryant and Mackintosh and Stone, I noticed that no pictures of my neighbour showed up. That was odd. I clicked on the news tab on Google, and a headline jumped out at me.
Woman Found Dead in London Flat Committed Suicide!
A woman found dead at her home on the 17th August has been identified as thirty-three-year-old Stephanie Bryant from Bedford, Bedfordshire. According to the coroner's report, Miss Bryant had taken her own life. She had a history of depression and anxiety. A suicide note was found near Miss Bryant's body.
Though reports claimed Stephanie had mental health issues, her family had rebuffed such claims as ludicrous.
“My Stephanie was a happy, outgoing and caring girl,” claimed Pauline Bryant, Stephanie's mother, 64. "There was no way she would have done this. No way."
Mrs Bryant has asked the City of London Police to look into her daughter's death further. At the time of Stephanie's death, she was said to be sharing with her flat-mate, Catherine Belfonte. Miss Belfonte has been unavailable for comment.
At the end of the article, there was a picture of Stephanie Bryant and Catherine Belfonte. The Stephanie in the photo was not my neighbour. Catherine Belfonte was. She had short black hair in this picture and bright green eyeshadow. It was Stephanie from next door. So was Catherine Belfonte now calling herself Stephanie Bryant? And using the identity of a woman had killed herself?
***
After tending to Rosie and doing a couple of jobs around the house, I returned to the study. It was 5:30 when Lance knocked on the door. I wasn't in the mood for another argument.
"Are you still angry?" he asked
"Are you going to listen to me?" I replied.
He closed the door and perched himself on the chair by the desk. "I'm worried about Alice. She knows something is wrong."
"Then she's more perceptive than her father," I commented drily.
"I want to sort this out," Lance continued.
"So do I."
I looked out the window.
"I'm sorry. Is that what you want me to say?" Lance asked, clearly doubting me.
"I want you to believe me."
"I don't agree that Stephanie is a madwoman who will butcher us in our sleep."
"What if Stephanie is someone else?"
Lance's eyes widened with confusion. "How do you mean?"
"I found an article on the Internet about a young woman who committed suicide in London. Her name was Stephanie Bryant. Her flat-mate was Catherine Belfonte. Catherine bears a striking resemblance to Stephanie next door."
I took the print-out and handed it to him. He scanned it and then gazed at me. "I don't understand."
"You can see for yourself. Stephanie Bryant killed herself. This Catherine has been using her identity and conning us."
"This is turning into an obsession," Lance said, pulling his hair.
"She's lying," I shouted. "She's lying about everything. Read the article."
"This woman could be anybody. So, she looks a little like Stephanie,” he admitted. “It proves nothing."
"What about the name? What about the fact that she said she used to work for Mackintosh and Stone? Stephanie Bryant killed herself. That woman next door is not her."
Lance stood up. "What the hell has happened to you?"
"You still don't believe me!" I said, exasperated.
I followed Lance into the bedroom and closed the door. The bedroom window was wide open.
"I can't believe what you've done," Lance said.
"I have done nothing. Lance. That woman is a fraud. She said she was from York. Stephanie never mentioned anything about living in London. She's lied about her past work experience. Wait until I tell Daisy about this."
"You need to stop."
"No way. I'm only just beginning. I bet she murdered that poor girl. And now she's running around using somebody else's name."
Lance turned to leave the room, but I stood in his way. When he pushed me out of the way, I almost hit my head on the edge of the bed. The bedroom door opened and Alice stood in front of us with Rosie.
Lance scooped the two of them out into the hall, comforting them with soothing words.
I slammed the bedroom door. When I went to the window to close it, Stephanie was standing in her garden with folded arms. Amusement kindled her gaze.
Chapter 38 — Felicity
The following Tuesday morning, I met Jackie at her favourite cafe bar in town. She cradling Rosie while we were sitting at a table by the window.
"Oh my God," Jackie said.
"I know. Right?" I replied.
"So, Stephanie used to share a flat with this woman?"
"According to the article. Only, then, Stephanie was called Catherine Belfonte. She stole this dead woman's identity. Hardly the behaviour of a normal human being. Is it?"
Jackie's brows arched in astonishment. "Wow."
I took my phone, searched for the article, and showed it to her.
"Catherine looks like Stephanie. Don't you think?" I asked.
"I suppose,” Jackie agreed. “How else would you explain her having this woman's details? And using them to get a job at Driven."
"I knew there was something odd about her. But this?" I added, feeling somewhat vindicated.
"Hang on a minute," Jackie said, lowering her voice. "How did this woman die? This Stephanie?"
"She committed suicide."
"How?"
"Hung herself."
Jackie narrowed her eyes. "What if she didn't hang herself?"
"You mean?"
"Well, it's clear that this Catherine--or whoever she is—is capable of anything."
"And she's got Lance wrapped around her little finger," I said.
"Have you told him?"
"What's the point? He won't listen to me."
"Well, you need to make him listen. Stephanie is crazy."
***
The house was empty when I got home. I put Rosie to sleep in the nursery and went back downstairs to watch TV. I missed the office. There were only so many times I could dust, clean the kitchen, and watch another episode of the Real Housewives of Orange County.
While I was eating a chocolate digestive and watching TV, I saw Stephanie hanging up washing in her back garden.
I opened the patio door and marched up to the fence. "I want a word with you", I said.
"Give it a rest, Flick. I've only just got home."
"Which name would you prefer? Stephanie or Catherine?"
She stopped and lowered her head. "What?"
"I know what you did."
Stephanie walked up to the garden hedge. "Did you forget to take your happy pills?"
"I'm onto you. And I'm warning you to stay away from my family."
"It's you that’s obsessed with me. Have you been digging around in my past again? You'll find nothing."
I went into the house and got my phone. When I got back to her, I shoved it in her face.
"How do you explain this?" I asked her.
"It's a picture of two women," she said.
"It's you."
"Me? Oh, come on."
"You stole that women's identity. You're not called Stephanie. And all those lies that your mum and husband are dead."
"They are."
"You're a liar."
"Why would I make that up? Do you think it's some joke having a dead mother and a dead husband? How dare you? How bloody dare you?"
"I will not let you wreck my life like you did to that girl in London. I wonder what else you’ve lied about."
Stephanie's lips pressed together as she picked up her empty laundry basket. "You've really lost the plot. By the way, I know it was you that sent that email to all my colleagues. You’d better watch your back, girl.”
***
I was sitting on my bed when Lance and Alice got home from the supermarket.
"Where have you been?" I asked when he opened the bedroom door. "I was calling you."
"You knew where I was."
I closed the bedroom door. "Where's Alice?"
"Watching TV. I'm worried about her."
"You need to listen to me."
"Felicity—"
"I've found out something about Stephanie's past. Her ex-flatmate hung herself and Stephanie has been using her identity ever since."
"What?"
"It's true."
Lance covered his face with his hands. "While I was at the supermarket, Stephanie texted me. She's going to the police."
"The police? What for?"
"She’s going to report you for harassment."
Exasperation clouded my face. "Me?"
"You've gone too far."
"She's doing this because I'm about to expose her. Catherine is her proper name. She has been lying to everyone."
Lance put his hands on my shoulders. "We can't go through this again."
"I always get the blame for everything. Nobody listens to me."
"How do you mean?"
"Let Stephanie go to the police. I'll tell them she's a murderer."
Lance came up to me. "A murderer?"
"That poor girl killed herself. Maybe Stephanie or Catherine drove her to it."
"Stephanie is from York," Lance told me. "She's never lived in London. Her husband died, and that was why she moved to Leeds. She wanted to make a fresh start."
"It's lies."
"We've been here before. You accused my friend of harassing you. And then there was Trevor."
"Why do you have to bring them up?"
"To make you see how crazy this is."
"You didn't believe me then, either," I said.
"Because it wasn't true. You said so yourself."
"No, you said so. I am right about her. I know I am."
I went into the bathroom for a shower. Fine, if Lance didn't believe me. It didn't surprise me he took Stephanie's side. As for his mate, who thought it was appropriate to send me flirty texts after claiming I'd led him on? Throwing a weeks' worth of garbage through his letterbox was nothing compared to what I could have done.
Then there was Trevor, my mother-in-law's neighbour. Dear married Trevor, who also thought I fancied him. So, he began watching the house and following me around. Was I supposed to let them get away with such behaviour? I wasn't wrong about them, and I'm wasn't wrong about Stephanie.
***
While Lance was making spaghetti Bolognese in the kitchen, Alice and I sat waiting on the couch.
"Your dad mentioned that he's worried about you," I whispered to her.
"Why are you and dad always fighting?" she asked.
"Adults fall out sometimes."
"You're always arguing about Stephanie."
"You don't need to worry about your dad and me."
"You need to stop picking on her. My mum said you pick on people and make them sad."
I wanted to scream. "That's not true."
Lance put his head around the living room door. "Dinner is served. Would you ladies like to make your way into the kitchen?"
