Have you ever had that gut-wrenching feeling deep in your stomach, where you feel something isn’t right? You know, when you were younger and your Mum told you that if something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t and to always trust your instinct.
My younger sister and I shared a room and we had a window that faced our neighbours house. Being the inquisitive, nosy, little twerps that we were, we would occasionally look through the window to keep ourselves informed.
This one dull, wintery morning, my younger sister woke me up from a deep sleep; “Kay wake up, our neighbour has killed her husband!”. The very words shook me to the core. I couldn’t believe my ears. She had deduced this simply from looking out of the window. I dragged myself out of bed and walked towards her.
I did have an inkling something wasn’t right for a long time. Okay so I had been suspicious for maybe a week or so. Thinking back, we hadn’t seen ‘the husband’ for weeks. When my Dad had previously asked one of their son’s where his Father was? he had said ‘sleeping upstairs’ and walked off. Mum had asked the wife too, but she had been just as vague, ‘Oh he is busy with family’. Which was it ‘sleeping or with family?’ Hmm.
Over the next fortnight we took it in turns to ‘spy’ on our neighbours. In a non intrusive way of course. Before and after school we would check for any signs of the husband. None. Then came the confirmation. The builders came next door and started to build a boundary wall around their garden. Oh so she has killed him and now buried him too?
Just as we were going about our day, looking through the window, she looked up, smiled and waved at us. Our hearts started racing. We were next. Being the older sister, I conjured up the courage to tell our parents. It was the right thing to do and they could call the police.
We went downstairs, both in a state of panic, feeling guilty about not saying anything for weeks. We had the evidence and we were next . Something had to be done. Unable to form a coherent sentence, my sister looked at me to explain. I told my parents how we thought our neighbour had killed her husband. This brought a crinkle of amusement to my Dad’s hazel eyes. He broke into a lopsided smile and said; “I spoke to him earlier. He’s been out of the country for a few weeks, visiting his sick parents”.
My instinct had failed me, that inkling and gut-wrenching feeling could have been the previous nights tea; failing to sit well in my stomach.
Goddammit all those wasted weeks!
Disclaimer: In case you had any doubt, I did not take the above picture, instead I used a Google image of Poirot.
For a similar light hearted post on Marriage CV go here