The Lodger: A Terrifying Psychological Thriller Novel (The Watcher Book 2)
The Lodger
Netta Newbound
Copyright © 2022 by Netta Newbound
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Junction Publishing
Junctionpublishing@outlook.com
www.junction-publishing.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
The Lodger/Netta Newbound -- 1st ed.
To Jackie Gerry - my number one stalker - without whose consistent harassment this book may never have come about…
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Netta Newbound
Prologue
Don shuffled forward, making sure he stayed within the shadows of the overgrown shrubs. He’d been watching for weeks and could set his clock by the family’s routine. Liam, Hannah’s dad, would turn off the outside lights and double lock the doors at 10:30 every single night, then he would head into the living room at the back of the house. Being in the country and not overlooked by anyone had clearly made the family blasé with security as every curtain in the house remained open, giving Don a perfect view into their lives.
Sidling down the path, he reached the living room window and peeked inside. A small table-lamp and the glow from the television were the only things illuminating the room, but it was all the light he needed. Spying Liam with his back to the window, Don moved a step closer and a little further to the left to get a better view of the object of his desire. There she was, lying demurely on the sofa in her white Broderie Anglaise cotton nightdress, her long, slender legs tucked up underneath her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose, recalling the intoxicating scent of her.
He stayed that way for the next half-hour, drinking in her every movement–the way she tipped her head back when she laughed and the crinkle of her nose when she saw something distasteful on the screen–it all fascinated him.
Startled by a sudden movement inside the room, Don jumped backwards, almost losing his footing. Liam was back on his feet, stretching and yawning vulgarly. He held his hand out to the beautiful Agnes, who took it, untucked her legs and rose from the sofa, giving Don a pleasurable glimpse of her shapely ankles.
“Goodnight, my love,” he whispered into the night and watched, hardly breathing, as Liam flicked off the lamp and led her from the room.
Don was in no hurry. Since following Hannah from Manchester he knew he had to be patient and he was set to play the long game. By hook or by crook, he would wangle his way inside that home eventually and, once he was in control, he vowed the curtains would be closed every night.
Chapter 1
Hannah’s stomach growled. She reached inside the top drawer of her office desk for a muesli bar, but her fingers stroked the smooth, empty surface instead. “Oh, you must be joking!” she hissed, shaking her head. She had thirty minutes before her meeting was due to start, and she had no clue how long it would go on for. Was there time to run to the café on the corner and stuff her face? Her stomach made another God-awful sound–not attractive. It would be unprofessional for her to enter the boardroom with that going on.
Purse in hand, she raced from the building and headed down the street to Jackie’s, the quaint coffee shop she often found herself in on the days her mother hadn’t loaded up her lunch box. The tiny place was filled to the gunnels, as per usual. But today of all day’s she could do without it.
“Any chance of a bacon sandwich to go, Felix?” she asked the gawky young waiter, who also happened to be Jackie, the owner’s, youngest son. “I’m starving and in a mad hurry.”
“Sorry, Miss McLaughlin, there’s a forty-five-minute wait for the kitchen. I could do you a coffee and a flapjack?”
Her stomach answered for her, and they both laughed.
“I’d eat a flea-bitten rat right now.”
“That doesn’t sound very appetising!” a familiar voice said from behind.
She jumped and spun around to see their head of security. “Oh, hi, Don. You startled me. We rarely see you around here this early in the day. What’s up?”
He scratched his unshaven chin and nodded. “I received an eviction notice this morning. I’ve got to be out of my flat by the weekend. My landlord hasn’t been paying the mortgage by all accounts, so all the tenants get booted out. I’ve just been to see a place close to here, but it was a waste of time—it’s already gone.”
“Oh, no. Surely they need to give you more notice than that?”
“Yes, normally. But the landlord has known about it for months, apparently.”
Felix reappeared and placed a takeaway cup and paper bag on the counter before her. “Shall I put it on your tab?”
“If you don’t mind, sweetie. I’ll come in before the end of the week and square up with your mum.” She picked up her order, desperate to inhale the contents of the bag, but conscious of how it would look. She turned back to Don and smiled. “Hope you find somewhere soon. I’ll ask about for you if you like?”
“Thank you, Hannah, I’d appreciate that. Sometimes it’s not what you know but who you know, and with me being a newbie around here, it puts me on the back foot.” He winked at her and her stomach clenched briefly. What was that all about? He was quite a bit older than her, but handsome in a ruggedly masculine kind of way. However, she hadn’t even looked at another man since losing Max.
The meeting was already underway by the time she returned to the office. She hated appearing tardy in front of her workmates, especially since her promotion. Max had owned AdCor, the parent company of The Daily Post, and after his death Lenny and Charmaine, his closest fri
ends and the sole beneficiaries of his estate, promoted her to Chief Editor. Insisting it was what he would have wanted for her, they had also gifted her a significant amount of money and substantial shares in the company.
Most of her colleagues had been thrilled for her, but she couldn’t help noticing a subtle shift in her relationship with a few of them. There was a definite frostiness here and there, or hushed conversations when she entered a room unexpectedly, but she hoped that would settle down before too long. Their branch of The Daily Post wasn’t as suave or sophisticated as the Manchester branch, but she loved its laid-back quaintness. Mr Turnbull, her old manager, still had his position, although he’d welcomed her promotion and had taken it as an opportunity to wind down with retirement in mind. He’d been a godsend, sharing as much of his knowledge as he could without overwhelming her.
Throughout the meeting, her thoughts kept returning to Don’s situation. She remembered how she’d felt living in a new town and knowing nobody. If it hadn’t been for the kindness of Diane and Simon, her lovely neighbours, she would’ve been lost. She was the only person Don knew in Shropshire, and, although she didn’t really know him on a personal level, he had been kind to her in Manchester and she felt she ought to repay him somehow.
Whilst clearing her desk at the end of the day, she had a sudden brainwave and practically ran from the office.
At home, she found her mum in the kitchen up to her eyeballs in food preparation. “You’re early!”
“Am I?” Hannah glanced at her watch and saw it was a little after five. “Oh, so I am. Where’s Daddy?”
“In his workshop, where else?”
Hannah dumped her phone and handbag down on the bottom tread of the stairs, then headed across the back garden to her dad’s workshop in the barn.
She slid one of the massive double doors open.
Her dad was on his back underneath a huge farm machine. He’d supposedly retired since her mum had been sick, so he would never be far from her side. Then a couple of months ago he’d started accepting the odd job here and there for a bit of extra pocket money. But word had soon got out and, before he knew it, he once again had more work than he could shake a stick at.
When she called his name, he rolled out on some wheeled contraption. “There she is, the breadwinner.”
Hannah laughed and rolled her eyes. Since her promotion, he’d been extra proud of her. “Hi Daddy, can I ask you something?”
“Of course you can, sweetheart. Hang on a sec.” He rolled onto his side, climbed to his feet with a groan, and reached for a rag to wipe his oily hands on.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stop you working.”
“It’s okay. I was pretty much done here anyway. What’s on your mind?”
“I bumped into Don at work today.”
“Ah, yes, the security guard. How’s he doing?”
“Not good. He’s being kicked out of his flat because the landlord didn’t pay the mortgage. The poor guy has nowhere to live.”
Deep furrows appeared between her dad’s brows. “You’re not going to suggest he move in with us, are you?”
“Not exactly. But I was thinking about the old farm worker’s lodgings back there.” She nodded towards the back of the barn where there was a basic farm worker’s accommodation with one main room, a kitchenette, and shower room.
“You’re kidding, aren’t you? It’s full of tools and grime. Nobody’s lived in there for years.”
“You use the kitchen and the bathroom. I know you sneak in there sometimes to watch the football. It can’t be that bad.”
“Hmm, I’m not sure—”
“We could move anything you’re storing in there to one of the other outhouses. It shouldn’t take much to clean it up with a bit of hot water and some elbow grease. What do you think?”
He looked over his shoulder and scratched his head. “It’s doable, I guess. But who would want to live back there? It’s miserable. And doesn’t he sleep during the day? I’ve been known to make quite a racket out here. Personally, I don’t think it would be ideal.”
“Better than nothing though, which is his only alternative. I’m not saying it must be forever, just till he finds something more suitable. And you’ve got to admit, the extra money would come in handy.”
He shrugged again. “I don’t suppose it will do any harm having him back there. So long as your Mammy doesn’t mind, that is.”
“But you won’t mind if she’s okay with it?”
“So long as my two girls are happy, I’m happy.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” She kissed his bristly cheek and breathed in the heady aroma of industrial machinery she would always associate with him–the rich, dark, dank scent of motor oil and grease. Nostalgic memories of her childhood flooded her mind, the weekends she would spend with her dad and Shaun up to her elbows in some engine or other. Those were the good old days when life seemed slower and far simpler. Her heart contracted. Why was it every time she felt any kind of emotion, immediately she was reminded of Max and her immense sense of loss? Would she ever get over him? It had been well over a year already. When would the pain begin to fade?
“I’d best wash up for dinner.”
His voice jolted her back down to earth, and she gasped. “Sorry, Daddy, I was miles away.”
Back inside the house, she found her mum ferociously mashing a pan of potatoes. “Mammy?”
She stopped mashing and cocked her head to the side. “What do you want?”
“How do you know I want anything?”
“I can tell by the tone of your voice.”
Hannah grinned. “Busted.”
“Well, what is it? Spit it out.”
“I was just talking to Daddy about clearing out the accommodation at the back of the barn.”
“Why would you want to move in there?”
“Not for me, silly. For Don.”
“Don?”
“Yeah, you know, the guy from Manchester.”
“Ah, yes. Nice man. But why would he want to live in there?”
“He’s being evicted, through no fault of his own, and he has nowhere else to go.”
“Would it affect me?”
“No.”
“Would I have to cook and clean for him?”
“No, we can make sure it’s totally self-contained.”
“Then I don’t mind.”
“You guys are the best. Thanks, Mammy, I’ll ring him later and suggest it. Do you need a hand?”
“No, all finished. You could call Daddy for me while I set the table.”
After dinner, Hannah loaded the dishwasher before heading up to her room. She felt a bit funny calling Don on his personal phone, thinking he probably wouldn’t answer a random number, but she needn’t have worried, he answered on the first ring. “Oh, hey, Don, it’s Hannah.”
“Good evening, boss. What can I do for you?”
“Hannah, please. Boss sounds far too pompous.” She laughed. “And besides, it’s what I can do for you. How did you get on today? Did you find somewhere to live?”
“Not yet, but I’ll keep looking. Something will come up, I’m certain of it.”
“I might have a solution, but don’t feel as though you need to accept if you’re not sure.”
“Intriguing.”
“I was just discussing your problem with my parents and Daddy suggested you could possibly move into the old farm lodgings at the back of the barn. It’s nothing flash, but I think we could make it quite homely.”
“Really? Wow! I’m speechless. Are you sure?”
“Maybe you need to see it first. Like I said, it’s nothing flash, but it might help you out, temporarily at least.”
“I’m sure it’ll be just fine. I’ll appreciate anything right now. And I’ll pay the going rate. When can I move in?”
“How about Saturday afternoon? We’re working the market stall in the morning.”
“Sounds good. Can you text me your address?”
Hannah ended
the call and smiled. It felt good to be helping out a friend.
Don hung up the phone, a broad grin spread across his face. Things were falling into place with barely any manipulation from him. So what if moving into the barn hadn’t been part of his initial plan. It could work in his favour. The next step would be for him to move into the main house–of that, he had no doubt.
Chapter 2
It took the rest of the week for Hannah and her dad to clear out the lodgings. The main room was much larger than she remembered and there would fit a double bed on one side and a three-seater sofa on the other. There was even space for a small dining table in the kitchenette. The old cooker had seen better days and would need replacing, but other than a lick of paint and a few throw rugs, it needed very little else.
“I should’ve kitted this out for myself years ago,” she joked with her dad one evening.
“Oh, yeah. I can’t imagine Mammy allowing you to stay out here alone—you know what she’s like. And besides, I can’t see you wanting to slum it out here when you have the comfort of a luxury double bedroom complete with ensuite inside, can you?”
“Probably not.” She grinned. She had enjoyed living alone when she moved to Manchester but, after the way it turned out, she figured she was safer staying in the family home for a while longer. Her parents had seemed thrilled to have her home too—especially since her brother Shaun and his family had moved to Ireland.