The Woman At The Window
Diana had politely rebuffed her awkward neighbour’s advances – and now it seems she was right to be wary…
He’s standing at the end of the aisle by the canned goods, reading the label on a tin of baked beans but I can feel Alan watching me.
It’s uncanny, the way he keeps appearing in the corner shop at the exactly the same time as me.
He didn’t do it when my ex-husband David was here but he’s long gone, living in a lovely detached house on the other side of town with his new girlfriend.
At some point Alan will build up the nerve to speak to me, flushing red as he makes a comment about the weather or the time of year, then he’ll scuttle out of the shop at top speed.
Last month he built up the nerve to ask me out for a drink.
I said no. It’s still too soon after David left me and besides, he’s not my type.
“Hello, Alan.” Despite my unease I smile and walk towards him. “I heard about your father. I’m very sorry. He was a lovely man.”
Edward White, Alan’s dad, owned the terraced house opposite mine. Our gardens back onto each other and, if the lights are on and the curtains are open, we can see into each other’s homes.
When Mr White took ill six months ago Alan moved in with him.
Then, a week ago, I heard sirens wailing as I brought the washing in and feared the worst. Five minutes ago Sanj, the shop owner, told me the bad news.
“Thank you, Diana.” Alan stares down at his feet.
“If there’s anything I can do?”
“Well, you could always go out for a drink with me.”
“Oh, um…” I take a step backwards. As I do, Sanj comes out of the back room, carrying an armful of soft drinks.
“Diana!” he shouts. “Watch out. You’re going to step on a mouse!”
I simultaneously scream, spin and stare at the patch of floor I just stepped on. There’s no mouse.
Sanj bursts out laughing. It’s such an infectious sound that I laugh too.
“Every time!” Sanj gasps, plonking the drinks on top of the freezer at the end of the aisle. “Every time she comes in I scare her and every time she laughs.”
Alan stares from me to Sanj, both of us still crying with laughter, then he scuttles out of the shop.
I’m sitting in my study, inputting some figures into a spreadsheet, when I see her.
At first I think it’s a trick of the light, the sunlight glinting off the dormer window in Edward’s attic room but it’s definitely a woman.
A woman with long blonde hair walking with her shoulders hunched, from one side of the room across to the other.
I continue to watch for a couple of minutes but she doesn’t reappear.
Strange. In all the years I’ve lived here, Mr White has never had a single female guest. His wife died back in the Eighties and Alan was their only child.
The blonde woman must be one of Alan’s friends, there to help him sort through Edward’s things. Or perhaps she’s a cleaner he’s employed.
It’s times like this that I miss my ex-husband. When we were still together I’d text him all through the day about things that amused or bothered me.
I love working for myself as a book-keeper but sometimes it can be lonely.
Getting texts from David would help break up the tedium – if he was in a good mood, that is.
If he was in a bad mood he’d tell me I had an overactive imagination or accuse me of being a busybody. Actually, maybe I don’t miss him that much.
“I… um… I don’t suppose you know if Alan’s got a friend or relative to stay?” I ask Sanj as I dig around in my purse for some money to buy the pint of milk I’ve just put on the counter.
I don’t actually need another pint of milk but I fancied stretching my legs.
He shakes his head as I hand him a pound coin.
“No idea. I haven’t seen him today.”
“No, me neither.”
I glance towards the end of the aisle where a woman is helping her pre-schooler choose a magazine. I’ve got so used to seeing my Alan shadow whenever I come in that it feels odd, not seeing him hovering about looking awkward.
“Your change.” Sanj drops something into my hand as I continue to stare across the shop.
I close my fingers, then fling them open again as something sharp pricks at my palm.
“Sanj!” I say as he picks up the large plastic beetle I’ve just dropped on the counter. “You’re a nightmare!”
“Be grateful you’re not married to him,” his wife shouts from the back room, which makes us all laugh.
I did a double take as I sat down to start work. The woman in the attic was back, the second day in a row.
Only this time she wasn’t pacing around. She was sitting completely still in a chair in the centre of the room. She’s still there now.
I’m too far away to make out her features but I can see the blonde hair framing her face.
I’ve been in the study for at least fifteen minutes now and she hasn’t moved once the whole time.
Is she asleep? What if she’s…
I rub my arms brusquely as all the small hairs suddenly stand to attention.
No… no… she can’t be dead. I’m being ridiculous.
Any second now Alan will come into the room and she’ll yawn and stretch her arms above her head as she wakes up.
I rub my hands over my face and try to concentrate on my work but it’s no good. I can’t work for more than a couple of seconds without glancing out of the window.
I need to talk to someone about this or I’m going to go doolally.
David won’t reply. I’ll try my friend Fiona instead.
Fiona, I text, if you were looking into someone’s window and a woman was sitting still for half an hour and not moving would you be worried?
Thirty seconds later my phone pings.
I’m more worried about you staring into someone’s house for half an hour. What on earth are you doing?!
I’m at my desk, I type back. Not standing in the street! It’s old Mr White’s house. Remember me telling you about him? The woman is in his attic.
Maybe she’s watching TV? I don’t move a muscle if Emmerdale is on.
I put my phone back on the desk. I’m being silly, of course I am.
But I’ve got a horrible feeling that the attic opposite was never completely converted. I’m pretty sure I heard that the previous owners ran out of money before they could finish it.
And Mr White had more bedrooms than he needed.
The thing is, Fi, I type back, I’m pretty sure the attic wasn’t –
A scream catches in my throat and I drop the phone as the woman in the window propels herself across the room and thumps at the window with clenched fists.
A second later she’s gone.
I only caught a glimpse of her before she disappeared but, even from this distance I could see the white cloth binding her wrists together.
I snatch up my phone again. This time I dial 999.
You’re quite, quite sure you searched the place properly? You definitely went into the attic?”
The female police officer sitting in my living room glances at her colleague and raises an eyebrow.
“We did, yes.”
“And you didn’t find the woman?”
“We didn’t find any women. But the home owner was in. A Mr…” She glances at the notepad in her hands.
“Mr Alan White. He told us that he’s been living alone in the property since his father died.”
“But…but…” I look from her to her colleague and back again. “I saw her. I swear on my husband’s life… actually, maybe not him. I swear on my own life.
“I definitely wouldn’t have called you if I wasn’t worried by what I saw.
“Maybe he’s got her hidden in a cupboard or something?”
“There was no evidence of anyone else in the house or any sign of a struggle,” the male police officer says. “And no one matching the description you gave has been reported missing.
“We ran a background check on Mr White and didn’t find any cause for concern.”
“So that’s it, then?”
“Perhaps you saw someone in one of the other attic rooms? There are a lot of loft conversations on that side of the road.
“Or maybe you saw something disturbing on someone’s television?”
“Give us a ring if you see anything else,” he adds as I stare at him, open- mouthed. “We’ll let ourselves out.”
Sanj listens, his dark eyebrows raised, as I tell him about what happened
an hour ago.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” I say. “I swear to you, Sanj. I don’t feel safe in my house. I definitely felt as though the woman was looking at me when she banged on the –”
The bell above the door tinkles and we both turn to look as a customer steps into the shop.
She’s only inside for a split second before she turns to go again, but it’s enough time for me to clock the long blonde hair and the hunched shoulders.
“That’s her!” I shout, practically throwing the loaf of bread I’m holding at Sanj. “Ring the police!”
By the time I get outside the shop the blonde woman has already disappeared around the corner.
I speed after her, pumping my arms hard, but with her long legs she’s like a rocket and by the time I reach the corner she’s already disappeared into Alan’s house.
When I reach the door I shove on it, expecting it to be shut, but it’s on the latch.
It swings open and, before I know it, I’m inside.
“Wait!” I shout as footsteps thunder up the stairs. “I want to help you.
“The police will be here any second, Alan!” I add, just in case he’s in earshot.
My thigh muscles burn as I scrabble up the attic ladder, then I freeze
as I peer over the top.
Sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of the room, a bare light bulb swinging above his head, is… Alan.
“Surprise!” he says, grinning weakly as he wipes the sweat on his forehead.
I stare around the room, my heart in my throat as I search for the terrified woman but she’s completely vanished.
It’s just me and Alan and a bottle of red wine and two glasses on the floor beside his chair.
There’s also… oh no… oh no, no, no. I press a hand over my mouth as I spot the length of long, blonde hair and a strip of white cotton on his lap.
“What…” My mouth is so dry I can barely speak. “What’s going on?”
“Well –” He shrugs. “You wouldn’t agree to go out for a drink with me so I thought we could have one here instead.”
“What’s… that?” I gesture at the hair.
“A wig.” He picks it up and plonks it on the top of his head. “After I saw how much you enjoy the practical jokes Sanj pulls on you, I thought you’d laugh your head off.
“I make a great woman, don’t I? A bit burly but…” He laughs loudly. “You fell for it.”
“Er…yes. I did. Ah, ha-ha, ha-ha.”
I half climb, half slip back down the ladder before my trembling legs finally start to work again and I speed back down the stairs and out onto the street.
“Please tell me you rang the police!” I shout as I burst into Sanj’s shop.
“Ha, ha!” He bursts out laughing. “I’m not falling for your little joke. You nearly got me, though.
“You can stop pretending to be scared now.
“Diana? Diana, why are you looking at me like that?”
Look out for a new themed series of stories from our archives coming soon…
