The Neighbour From Hell Read online




  THE NEIGHBOUR FROM HELL

  Kimberley Louise

  Copyright © 2020 by Kimberley Louise

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Jane Dixon Smith.

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 - Nine Months Earlier - Felicity

  Chapter 2 - Nine Months Later - Felicity

  Chapter 3 - Felicity - One Month Later

  Chapter 4 - Felicity

  Chapter 5 - Zoe Drake - 1997

  Chapter 6 - Claudia

  Chapter 7 - Felicity

  Chapter 8 - Felicity

  Chapter 9 - Felicity

  Chapter 10 - Zoe Drake - 1997

  Chapter 11 - Claudia

  Chapter 12 - Felicity

  Chapter 13 - Felicity

  Chapter 14 - Felicity

  Chapter 15 - Zoe Drake - 1999

  Chapter 16 - Claudia

  Chapter 17 - Felicity

  Chapter 18 - Felicity

  Chapter 19 - Felicity

  Chapter 20 - Zoe Drake

  Chapter 21 - Claudia

  Chapter 22 - Felicity

  Chapter 23 – Felicity

  Chapter 24 – Felicity

  Chapter 25 - Zoe Drake - 1999

  Chapter 26 – Claudia

  Chapter 27 - Felicity

  Chapter 28 - Felicity

  Chapter 29 – Felicity

  Chapter 30 - Zoe - May 1999

  Chapter 31 - Claudia

  Chapter 32 - Felicity

  Chapter 33 - Felicity

  Chapter 34 - Felicity

  Chapter 35 - Zoe Drake

  Chapter 36 - Claudia

  Chapter 37 - Felicity

  Chapter 38 — Felicity

  Chapter 39 - Felicity

  Chapter 40 - Felicity

  Chapter 41 - Zoe Drake

  Chapter 42 - Claudia

  Chapter 43 - Felicity

  Chapter 44 - Felicity

  Chapter 45 – Zoe Drake

  Chapter 46 - Claudia

  Chapter 47 - Felicity

  Chapter 48 - Felicity

  Chapter 49 - Felicity

  Chapter 50- Zoe Drake

  Chapter 51 - Felicity

  Chapter 52 - Felicity

  Chapter 53 - Felicity

  Chapter 54 - Felicity

  Chapter 55 - Felicity

  Chapter 56 - Felicity

  Chapter 57 - Felicity

  Chapter 58 - Felicity

  Chapter 59 - Felicity

  Chapter 60 - Felicity

  Chapter 61 - Felicity

  Chapter 62 - Felicity

  Chapter 63 - Felicity

  Chapter 64 - Zoe Drake

  Chapter 65 - Claudia

  Chapter 66 - Felicity

  Chapter 67 - Felicity

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  Books by Kimberley Louise

  Chapter 1 - Nine Months Earlier - Felicity

  “So, what do you think?”

  My husband’s grin exposed pristine white teeth, and his intense perky green eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. On a dreary Tuesday morning in September, the bleak skies threatened rain.

  I was standing in the empty living room of Number One Hampton Road. Heavy purple pattered curtains draped the enormous bay window. It was one of the few soft furnishings left by the previous owners. The shiny oak flooring creaked beneath my yellow suede loafers.

  The house was a four-bedroom, two-storey end-of-terrace, overlooking a narrow front garden which ran fifteen feet towards a box hedge. I tried to imagine myself living there. Cooking beef stew in the kitchen. Curling up on the couch in front of the cosy log burner in the living room. Enjoying a glass of Chenin Blanc on the patio in front of the French doors.

  But was this too good to be true?

  “Maybe we should keep looking.”

  “It’s perfect for us.” Lance drummed his feet against the floor. “Big spacious rooms. Sizeable garden. And don’t get me started on that kitchen.”

  I smiled and wiggled my eyebrows. “You sound like the Estate Agent.”

  “I am the Estate Agent. That’s why I know this house is perfect for us.”

  I could see why Lance wanted a house in that area. Hampton Road was in Horsforth, a desirable suburb and civil parish in Leeds, West Yorkshire. With an excellent school nearby, and its proximity to a trendy hot spot filled with fashionable boutiques, cafe bars, and restaurants, this house would get snapped up quickly.

  “Seriously, what do you think?”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s a lovely house. And I suppose we can’t live with your mother forever.”

  “That’s true. There’s only so much of her homemade apple pie a man can take.”

  “You know how much she adores cooking for you.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d rather we cook in our own home. Just the two of us.”

  We’d been living with Lance’s mother, Suzie, for two years. I admit it was hardly ideal. Who wanted to live with their mother-in-law? We needed our own place—a little haven just for us.

  “You’re right. We need our own home.”

  “This home.”

  I glanced at him. “It’s expensive, Lance.”

  “I’ve taken care of that.”

  “We could get something smaller, a flat, maybe. There are some lovely ones near the town centre.”

  “I don’t want to live near the town centre. I want to live here. And so do you.”

  I used to find my husband’s stubbornness attractive. Parred with my bull-headedness, our debates escalated. But this wasn’t another one of our squabbles about his fuss-pot mother or me leaving stuff all over the bedroom floor. We were throwing ourselves into a twenty-five-year mortgage!

  “I’m not saying I don’t want to live here.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “It’s a huge commitment.”

  “Felicity, we’ve been saving for years while we’ve been living with mom. What’s the point in saving all of that money if we can’t spend it?”

  I stepped towards the window and pulled my pink cardigan closer to my body.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What are you not sure about?” Lance asked.

  “Can we afford it?”

  “I’ve told you I’ve taken care of it.”

  “But I need to be sure.”

  “Can we ever be sure about anything in life? We have to take risks. You and I know about taking risks.”

  Our relationship had been a risk from the get-go. We’d met at my best friend, Jackie’s birthday party in August 2016. Jackie hosted the party at the house she and I were sharing in Headingley. Her boyfriend, Steve, invited his pal, Lance, who was visiting from Ireland. While I was dancing, someone bumped into me and knocked me over. Lance helped me back up and took me to a chair in the corner.

  He was quite an impressive figure. Tall and lean with silky black hair and green eyes, he had an air of someone who liked to make you feel comfortable in his presence. He was also hilarious. Somewhere in our flirty, getting-acquainted conversation, we kissed. Then, he told me about his wife, Maddie, and ten-year-old daughter, Alice.

  That was that, then! There were more chances of pigs flying than me hooking up with a married guy. But he called me three weeks later, pleading with me to meet up with him. When I refused, he bombarded me with texts for a while and then I heard nothing from him. I assumed he got the message until he contacted me a year later and told me he’d divorced
his wife.

  I agreed to a date to shut him up. Hoping he’d get bored and move on. But he didn’t. Twelve months later, we married at Leeds Register Office, and I moved out of the house I shared with Jackie and into his mother’s home in Alwoodley. Then I suffered a miscarriage and got paralyzed by depression. Lance lost his job and his father, who lived in Ireland, passed away. So this house was a new start for us.

  “It’s posh around here.” I was still looking out the window. Lance wriggled up behind me and smooched my neck. “Do you think we’ll fit in? What if we don’t get along with the neighbours?”

  “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “They might not like us.”

  Lance turned me towards him. His tongue dipped between my lips.

  “This house is right for us. It’s a fresh start. You deserve the best.”

  “Okay, you can stop buttering me up.”

  “I’m not doing anything of the sort. It’s our time to be happy. You know I’m right.”

  ***

  The vendors accepted our offer the same day and that afternoon, Lance and I treated ourselves to lunch at Belles, an Italian bistro near Hampton Road. It was a lovely little place. The jars of decorative oils, dried pasta, and hot peppers on the counter, drawing my eyes. Amid the sounds of swinging doors, people murmuring and talking, and silverware clinking, Lance stretched his hand across the table.

  “There’s no going back now.”

  “I know,” I replied.

  “It’s the right decision.”

  “I know.”

  “And—”

  “Shut up a minute.” I put my finger on his lip. “I need to tell you something.”

  “You’re not having second thoughts.”

  “Let me speak.”

  “Sorry.”

  I shivered and let out a throaty laugh. “I’m pregnant.”

  Lance pumped his fist into the air. “Oh, my God. Baby, that’s fantastic.”

  “Our own little baby.”

  “I’m so happy I could burst.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

  “But what about what happened before?”

  I didn’t want to bring up the miscarriage. For me, it was too heart-breaking to revisit. But it was scary being pregnant again. What if something went wrong?

  “This is the best that could ever happen to us,” Lance whispered.

  “It will be all right, isn’t it?”

  Lance’s arm moved across the table and touched my hand. I realised I was shaking.

  “It will be perfect.”

  Chapter 2 - Nine Months Later - Felicity

  “What are you going to do today?” Lance asked.

  I was lying on the bed, watching him towel dry himself after his shower. We’d moved into Hampton Road eight months ago. I remembered it being a special time. Setting up home. Everything was monumental. Packing and unpacking. Deciding where we would put our new furniture. Our first meal on the couch together.

  “Maybe I’ll do something exciting like put away the laundry or wash the windows,” I replied.

  “Why don’t you call Jackie?”

  “I called her yesterday.”

  “Call again?”

  “She has a job.”

  A month ago, I had collapsed at work, and my boss, Daisy, insisted I went on maternity leave. Now I spent my days scrolling through my social media accounts and watching Loose Women and Homes Under the Hammer.

  “I’m sure she won’t mind you ringing her for a chat,” Lance said. “Jackie can talk for England.”

  “You’d never say that to her face.”

  “True. She scares the living daylights out of me.” Lance pulled his teal blue polo shirt over his head and then slipped his toned legs into a pair of navy flannel trousers. “I agree with your boss. You’re better off at home. We can’t take any risks, not with a woman—”

  “You were going to say a woman of my age. What a cheek! I’m thirty-five, not seventy-five. Lots of women my age are having babies these days.”

  “I don’t care about them. I care about you.”

  “I’m bored, Lance.”

  “It’s not that bad. You can do whatever you want.”

  “Yeah, great. Life is such a hoot when you’re eight months pregnant.”

  He grabbed his black bomber jacket from the wardrobe. He then came over to me, rubbed my stomach and brushed my hair back from my brow. “It will be worth it when this little one arrives.”

  “Then we’ll have sleepless nights to look forward to,” I said.

  “It will be fine.”

  “It’s easy for you to say.”

  “Trust me,” he said. “I’ve done this before. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  Lance hadn’t seen Alice for months now. Maddie had resorted to childish games when she found out I was pregnant. Planning for Lance to see Alice and then cancelling last minute. She also blamed me for Alice not wanting to spend time with her dad.

  Alice was Lance’s child, and I wanted them to have a relationship. I would never spoil that.

  “Why don’t you call Maddie?” I asked.

  “What’s the point?”

  “She can’t keep you away from Alice forever. You have rights.”

  I got up and followed Lance downstairs into our kitchen, where he poured himself and me some coffee.

  “I’ve got meetings all day,” he said, glancing at his watch. “So I might be late getting home.”

  “You’re not having an affair, are you?”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Haha!”

  “And we’ve got Jackie and Steve coming over for dinner this evening.”

  I tapped my head. “I completely forgot.”

  “I reminded you last night.”

  “Can’t we cancel?”

  “At this short notice?”

  “I’m really not up to it.”

  “It will be good to catch up.”

  “Fine.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes. I’ll rustle something up.”

  Lance kissed me on the lips. “That’s the spirit. I’ll see you later.”

  “So much for wanting me to rest,” I said. “You haven’t finished your coffee.”

  “I’ve got a meeting in thirty minutes and an important viewing after that. I’ll grab one at work.”

  I shrugged my shoulders, followed him to the door, and watched him get into his red Land Rover.

  “Everything will be okay,” he shouted through the car window. “We’re very lucky, you know.”

  “I know,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I waved him off, before glancing at the for sale sign next door. That house had been on the market for months. I wondered why nobody had snapped it up. When I got back inside, I finished my lukewarm coffee and headed upstairs for a shower.

  ***

  After my shower, I tied my hair up and went into the kitchen to make myself a cup of peppermint tea. I was taking my cup to the kitchen window when something or rather someone caught my eye. I peeked between the cream blinds and saw a woman typing on her phone. She seemed official. Did she work for the council? Maybe she was an Estate Agent. Had they sold the house? Two students had rented it some months back, but they’d moved out as quickly as they had moved in. Lance and I never got the chance to speak to them.

  She noticed me watching her and waved. She must have thought I was one of those curtain-twitching, nosey neighbours. I frowned as I moved away from the window. Then, I saw her curling her hand towards herself as though beckoning me.

  I opened the front door, and she walked up to my front path. “Are you okay?” I shouted.

  Her hair hung over shoulders in a mass of shiny apricot curls.

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” I noticed she didn’t have a Leeds accent. “I was just looking around next door. It looks like an impressive house.” I
connected the dots in my head and realised that she wasn’t an Estate Agent. She was a prospective buyer.

  “Oh, you’re looking to buy the house?” I asked. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

  “It’s fine,” she said. Her eyes crept to my stomach. “Yes, I am considering making an offer. It’s a good price. I’d be mad not to consider it. Have you lived here long?”

  “Eight months.”

  “So, you’re still finding your feet?”

  “You could say that.”

  “I can see why you needed the space,” she said.

  I rubbed my stomach. “Yes, well, we are expanding.”

  “How far along are you?”

  “Eight months.”

  “Not long now. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Her flat granny-like black shoes and black tights drew my attention. It was a scorching day in June. What was she thinking?

  “So are you thinking of putting in an offer for number five?” I asked her.

  She bit her lip. “I would be a fool not to. I’ll have this gigantic house all to myself.”

  “Oh, you’re not married? Sorry, I’m so nosey.”

  She gave a kind of forced grin of amusement. “It’s fine, really. I’m happily single.”

  I kind of wanted to go back inside the house. I wasn’t sure why she’d called me out.

  “Good for you,” I said. “Well, I hope it works out for you. I didn’t catch your name.”

  There was a pause. “Stephanie. Stephanie Bryant.”

  “I’m Felicity. I see you’re not from Leeds.”

  “York,” she said. “So not far.”

  “Very nice,” I said.

  I reached out my hand. Very formal, I know, but Stephanie looked formal. Friendly but official.

  “Pleased to meet you, Felicity. I hope all goes well with the new baby.”

  “Thank you. And I hope all goes well with the house.”

  We parted, and I closed the front door. When I looked out of the kitchen window, I saw her taking pictures of the house next door. I rarely socialised with the neighbours because everyone kept to themselves. But Stephanie seemed, well, nonthreatening. She’d be good for a friendly natter over a coffee. And who didn’t want nice, friendly neighbours?

  ***

  Later that evening, Lance and I had dinner with our best friends, Jackie and Steve. We were eating a Chinese takeaway. The three of them were sharing a bottle of wine. I had water.