‘Hey, Meagan. Wow, you called. I didn’t expect you–’
‘Something is happening in the communal hall outside my apartment. I’m not sure what’s going on, Oliver. A woman is screaming; it sounds like she’s being attacked. I’m frightened. The front door thumped a second ago, and Rob’s out.’
‘Okay. Take it easy. Breathe. Is the front door locked?’ Oliver listened to Meagan as she went slowly to the door.
‘Yes, it’s locked. I’m scared, Oliver.’
He paused, talking calmly into the phone, keeping her relaxed. ‘Meagan, once the front door is locked, you’re safe. You understand that, right? Are you still there?’
‘I’m still here.’
‘Okay. What are you doing, Meagan?’ Oliver could hear her shuffling about, the phone reception cutting in and out.
Again, Meagan whispered, keeping her voice as low as possible. ‘I’m looking out of the spyhole. It seems quiet.’
‘Okay, maybe they’re gone. I’ll stay on the phone if you like.’
‘I’d like that.’
Oliver listened, the fear evident in Meagan’s voice, obvious panic. ‘Are they gone? Meagan, talk to me.’
At the front door Meagan listened for a second, then whispered, ‘I think so. It’s quiet now; they must have gone. Sorry to call you like this. It’s not how I imagined our first phone call, if I’m honest.’
‘Hey, it’s fine, I’m just glad you called.’
‘Rob is out most evenings; I hate being–’
There was another loud thump on the front door. Meagan cried out, ‘What the hell? They’re going to get in, Oliver, whoever’s out there is trying to get into the apartment.’
‘Meagan, is the front door shut? Is anyone in your apartment?’
‘No one is inside. The door’s locked but someone is either trying to get in or falling against it, maybe being attacked. What should I do?’
‘Wait, keep as quiet as possible; move away from the door. Don’t let them know you’re inside. Do you hear me?’
‘Yes. Yes, I hear you.’
Meagan waited for a couple of minutes. Only her light breaths informed Oliver that she was still on the line.
‘I think they’re gone, Oliver. I haven’t heard anything for a few minutes now. It’s quiet.’
He heard a clink, and then the squeal of a hinge. ‘What are you doing? Meagan?’
‘I’ve got to see what’s happening.’
Silence. Then, ‘Oliver, are you there? Oliver.’
‘Yes, I’m here. What’s going on, Meagan?’ He needed to know what she was doing.
‘I’ve opened the front door; I need to make sure whoever was out here isn’t trying to get into one of the apartments. Call it neighbourhood watch, if you like.’
‘Meagan, please, don’t be stupid. Go back inside. You’ll get hurt. Are you listening to me, Meagan?’
‘I’m walking along the communal hall. The apartment doors are all shut, it doesn’t look like there’s any damage. Maybe it was kids. They often get in here, smoking their shit.’
‘Fine. Okay, well, now you know it’s safe. Please listen, Meagan, and go back inside. Lock the door where it’s safe.’
‘I’m just looking. I need to know.’
‘What’s happening, Meagan? Are you back inside?’
‘No. I’m going down to the first floor. Just stay on the phone. I feel safe hearing your voice.’
‘I don’t believe this. Please, go home. Leave it, Meagan.’ Suddenly, Oliver heard her voice, the phone seemed to drop and there were ruffling sounds in the earpiece. ‘Meagan. Talk to me, please.’
‘Shit, shit, shit.’
‘What? What can you see?’
‘I’m on the first floor… And there’s a woman lying–’
Oliver could hear a raised voice.
Meagan paused. ‘She’s trying to speak. A guy is standing over her; he’s wearing black gloves, he’s leaning over the woman, his hands are around her fucking throat, Oliver.’
Oliver recalled the guy who had challenged him recently while he stood outside the building. He also wore black gloves. ‘Is she alive?’
Meagan froze, struggling to produce the words, sounding confused. ‘I think so, but her body’s twitching. He’s lifting her, putting her over his shoulder. She’s not moving, Oliver.’
‘Go back up the stairs, Meagan, get inside and lock the door. Now.’
Meagan followed Oliver’s instructions, stepping back onto the stairs and racing up to the second floor.
Oliver heard the door banging shut and the lock being engaged.
‘I’m by the front door. I can hear him; he’s outside, Oliver. I’m watching through the spyhole. I can see a shadow. I think he’s passing my door, moving along the hall.’
Meagan held her breath for a moment, then continued. ‘He’s opening a door on the second floor, my floor. He’s a fucking neighbour.’
Rob sat at the bar, swigging a double Jack Daniels, straight. He watched as the bartender wiped a glass with a tea towel and placed it on a shelf above his head.
Rob turned, facing the stage. A woman in a tight bikini was gyrating in front of him, slowly removing her clothes. The music was loud, a slow dance track from the nineties. He got off the stool and took a seat by the edge of the stage. He watched how she moved, her smooth body glistening with oil, her perfect figure, then he dipped into his pocket and drew out a fifty-pound note, placing it into the side of her underwear.
She smiled, giving Rob a provocative wink. When she’d finished dancing, she strutted towards him. ‘Hey, you wanna take this further, boss?’
Rob smirked, taking her hand as she led him into a back room where she continued the private show. There was a large bowl of cocaine on a table, and the door was shut and locked.
Meagan stood in the hallway of apartment six; her body pressed against the wall, arms by her sides, her right hand loosely gripping her mobile. Oliver was still on the phone, trying to calm her down, struggling to digest what had just happened.
‘What if he comes for me, Oliver? A neighbour’s just strangled a woman and dragged her into his apartment.’
Oliver listened as Meagan struggled to gain control.
The lights were out, the apartment in darkness. Feeling her way towards the living room to the right, Meagan crept over towards the window. The thick, heavy curtains were closed, keeping whatever light there was out of the room. She went to the window, her hands shaking and her body numb from adrenaline. She pulled the curtain slightly to the right and peered into the communal hall. Meagan listened intently. ‘It’s too quiet, Oliver.’
She recalled the day-to-day sounds she’d become accustomed to hearing. The lift as it passed through the levels, a robotic voice announcing the second floor; a neighbour playing jazz, the music blaring from his living room. She recalled the old lady who lived upstairs pulling her shopping trolley behind her, moaning about the lift but also frightened of small spaces, cursing about the stairs getting harder to manage and the smell of piss in the landing. And there was the oversexed couple at the end of the hall, who often stopped at the top of the second floor to seduce each other on the way to their apartment.
‘Should we call the police?’ Oliver asked.
Meagan went back to the hall, crouching down by the front door. ‘Rob would lose the plot; he never interferes with neighbours, ever. He’d never say hello when he meets them in the communal hall, ask how they are or wish them a pleasant day; they aren’t important to him.’
‘Charming,’ Oliver said.
‘Secondly, the guy down the hall would know I called. He’d find out, and what then? He’ll come for me, Oliver. I have to do something. I have to help her.’