by Jo Dearden
a glass of wine
The cottage was on the edge of the village. The front garden was overgrown, and weeds were
poking up through a stone slab path. A pretty
rambling pink and white rose trailed over the front door and was stretching
towards the two upper windows. The previous owner had left to work abroad, and
the house had lain empty for a few months. A For Sale notice swung forlornly on
its hinges, creaking in the wind.
The estate agent was encouraging, and Janet didn’t need much
persuading. She loved the view of open fields from most of the windows. It
seemed an idyllic spot in the spring sunshine. The price had also been reduced.
She had been looking for somewhere smaller to buy since her divorce had come
through and the house she had shared with her husband had been sold.
‘I’ll take it,’ she told the man who had shown her round.
‘Don’t you want to think about it,’ he said, slightly surprised at
her impulsive decision.
‘No, it’s just what I am looking for. I can move in as soon as all
the legals have been done.’
The day arrived for Janet to move into her new home. She felt
nervous and excited. The removal men were efficient but seemed in a hurry to
leave. By early evening a sea of boxes seemed to occupy almost every inch of
floor space. Janet poured herself a large glass of wine. The boxes can wait,
she thought as she dragged a kitchen chair into the back garden. It had been an
exhausting day.
The doorbell rang. An attractive woman in her forties wearing skinny
jeans and a navy jumper stood on the doorstep. Her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail. Her
expensive sunglasses perched on top of her head. She was holding a small bunch
of flowers. ‘Hi there. I’m Liz. I live next door. I’ve just picked these from
my garden. I hope you’re settling in,’ she said thrusting the flowers towards
Janet.
‘Oh, yes, thank you. I still have most of my boxes to unpack but
I’m getting there. Would you like to join me for a glass of wine? I was just
having one in the garden.’
‘No, sorry, I can’t stay now. Perhaps another time.’ Janet watched
Liz walking down the unkempt front path. As she reached the gate, she turned around.
‘Oh, by the way, don’t forget to lock all your doors and windows. A couple of
houses in the village have been broken into recently.’
Janet closed her front door and twisted the key in the lock. She suddenly
felt quite deflated. This was not quite the start she had envisaged. She wasn’t
finding it easy to live on her own since her husband had left her for his
secretary, a curvaceous blonde about ten years younger than her. She was hoping that moving to a smaller house
would be less daunting. She had always felt scared of potential intruders or
seeing something supernatural. She had never actually seen anything, but now
she was alone, uncertainties and fears had crept over her.
Janet stepped out of her back door and picked up her unfinished
glass of wine. Dusk was beginning to fall and there was now a chilly breeze. I
must be strong she thought. I really want to be happy here. The telephone rang.
It was the estate agent. ‘I just wanted to make sure your move has gone well.’
‘Well, yes, thank you. I’m a bit worried though about these
burglars who are supposedly doing a few houses in the village.’
‘Ah, yes. Just make sure you are all locked up. I think the police
are getting close to catching them.’ Oh great, Janet thought as she clicked off
her phone.
After supper, she decided to go to bed as exhaustion finally got
the better of her. It was about midnight
when she woke with a start. She thought she had heard a bang. Perhaps she had
dreamt it. But no, there it was again. She could now hear a scraping sound. Janet
snapped on her bedside lamp and threw back the duvet. A wave of terror washed
over her. She decided to open her
bedroom window as it overlooked the front of the house.
She waited a few moments as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She
couldn’t see or hear anything. Perhaps she had been dreaming after all. She
tried to go back to sleep but her mind was in overdrive. Eventually as dawn
broke, she went downstairs and put the kettle on. As she sat drinking a cup of
tea at her kitchen table, she noticed a small knife lying on the dresser. She
was sure it had not been there last night. It didn’t belong to her. Perhaps one
of the removal men had left it.
She wandered into the sitting room. A devastating scene confronted
her. Some of the boxes had been opened and the contents were strewn across the
floor. She heard herself scream as she ran into the hall. She fumbled with the
front door key. As she opened the door, she almost fell into the arms of a
policeman, who was standing on her doorstep.
‘Are you Mrs Janet Brown?’ he asked her.
‘Yes, oh please help me. I’ve been burgled. I only moved in
yesterday. I don’t know what to do,’ she sobbed.
‘I think we may have caught the culprits. We’ve been on to them for
some time. There are two of them and they work for a local removals firm.’
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