The Good Neighbour (3 page)

‘What was her name?’ Lola asked. She loved Cath’s stories.

‘Libby. Cute little thing. Blonde bunches. Roll up your sleeve, Libby, I’d tell her, gotta take a teeny bit of blood for the doctor. Would she? Nah.’

‘Did she die?’

Cath tried again to cuddle Davey, but he sat up straight and stiff, his arms folded in front of him. Cath gave up and pulled Lola closer. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, into Lola’s hair. ‘Yes, she died, poor little thing.’

‘Daddy,’ Lola whispered.

Cath wasn’t sure if she’d meant to be heard. ‘He’s busy, like I told you. Driving his big lorry.’ She let her go, and both kids turned their attention back to the television. ‘I’ll do them sandwiches. Jam all right?’

Neither of them replied, and she walked over to the door. When she turned to look back, Davey had put his arm round Lola’s shoulder.

THE CARPET IN
Davey’s old room had thick red and orange stripes, with a thinner blue stripe in between. Red, blue, orange, blue. Davey liked to sit on the floor and run his finger along a blue stripe, because when you pushed it one way it went a slightly different blue.

The new carpet was green. It was old and flat. The green stayed the same when he pushed it. Lola said pretend it’s grass, but Davey wasn’t feeling particularly pretendy.

Davey told Adam Purcell his five favourite numbers.

1. Eight, because he was eight.
   
2. Seven, because he had liked being seven and it was famous as a lucky number anyway.
   
3. A zillion, even though according to his dad it wasn’t a real number.
   
4. Googol, which was one with a hundred noughts after it, bigger even than a zillion which was probably a billion times a trillion or something. He knew Google had been named after googol, but it had been spelled wrong.
   
5. Sixty-eight, the number of their old house.
   

Davey wished his mum would hurry up and unpack the laptop. She kept saying it was in a box underneath another box and she would ‘get round to it’. Grown-ups said they would get round to it if it was something they didn’t want to do.

Davey wasn’t even going to have his new room for long. His mum said she would make him a better room downstairs, in the dining room, soon as she got a minute. Getting a minute was a lot quicker than getting round to it. She’ll say it’s going to be fantastic, Adam Purcell said. Davey told his mum he wanted to stay upstairs but she basically did her look. ‘I can’t carry you anymore.’

When Davey was little, he could walk whenever he wanted. He remembered that well. Just walking around, nothing stopping him.

The best thing about the new house was the window at the top of the stairs. No, the best thing was that his mum was all happy. The window was the second best thing. It was a special window, because it was round. Davey had never seen a round window before, except in pictures of ships. You could look at next door’s front garden out of it.

Davey thought about the last joke his dad had told him. Whenever his dad put him to bed, he would tell him a bad joke. ‘Lola,’ he said, ‘want to hear Dad’s joke?’

She nodded.

‘Why did the birdie go to the hospital?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘To get a tweetment.’

Lola laughed, she always did, though she never really got them. She laughed, then said, ‘I don’t get it.’ Her doing that always made their dad laugh even more.

Now she asked him when their dad would be coming. Davey just said, ‘I don’t know, don’t ask Mum any more,’ and ran his hands over the new carpet, hoping to see the green change.

AS MINETTE WALKED
up Cath’s path, she wondered idly – she told herself it was idly – whether Liam would be there. She’d made a big effort: black trousers that made her waist look smaller, a little green top with sparkly straps. Now she’d stopped breastfeeding she could wear what she liked. She still winced whenever she thought back to Ros’s wedding, when Tilly was just five weeks old. How impressed everyone in their old crowd had been to see Minette out and about so soon after giving birth, looking ‘super-hot’, Ros said. Tilly slept through the ceremony like an angel, and Minette was just starting to properly relax when Tilly woke with a scream at the reception. Minette automatically moved the sobbing baby to her breast, then realised that the only way to get her boob out of her new tight-bodiced dress was to unzip the whole thing, and push it down to her waist. An usher found her a quiet room that was invaded ten minutes later by a group of drunk men looking for the cloakroom. It was the most humiliating moment of her life, easily taking over from the school sports day when her period started in the middle of the egg and spoon. She’d almost cried when she got back to Abe and told him, but Abe, pissed and enjoying the party, had just laughed. And although he was horrified for her later, when he realised how upset she was, a small part of her felt she had never completely forgiven him.

Cath greeted her effusively at the door. ‘Love your top, Minette! Hey, where’s my Tilly?’

‘Abe’s just changing her, they’ll be along in a minute.’ Minette admired the newly sanded wooden floors in the hall as Cath led her to the kitchen.

‘So many people have come,’ Cath enthused. ‘This really is a fantastic neighbourhood.’

‘I suppose it is,’ Minette said, distracted by the word ‘neighbourhood’, which she thought was American. Though of course there was the Neighbourhood Watch, which was very British, very Abe’s parents, so maybe not. Two Indian men Minette hadn’t seen before were sitting at the table, drinking tea.

‘Too early for wine?’ Cath asked, holding up a bottle. ‘Don’t be put off by these two,’ and she giggled at the men, ‘they’re lightweights.’

Minette accepted a glass of wine, not looking at the tea-drinking men in case they disapproved.

‘Good lass. Keep me company.’ Cath started pouring the wine, then her little girl toddled over and tugged her sleeve. ‘Careful Lola, you’ll make me spill it.’

‘He wants toilet.’

‘OK, tell him I’m coming.’

Cath handed Minette the glass and said, ‘Davey hasn’t got the hang of getting his chair up that high step yet. Come out with me, there’s someone I want you to meet.’

There were quite a few people already in the garden, most of whom Minette didn’t recognise. She waved at Priya, and saw Kirsten talking to a man with receding hair, who was blatantly looking down her top. This made Minette grin, and she was still smiling when Cath said, ‘Minette, let me introduce you to my other next-door neighbour.’

Minette looked up into Liam’s film-star face. ‘Oh! Hi!’ she stammered.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, and said, ‘Lovely to meet you properly.’ He took her hand and held onto it a little longer than she might have expected.

‘Excuse me, won’t you,’ Cath said. ‘I just have to sort Davey out.’

Christ! Minette was alone with the handsomest man she had ever seen. She didn’t know whether to give thanks to the God of Good Things, or call out to Cath, don’t leave me by myself! Liam had her idea of perfect looks: tall and broad-shouldered, fair-haired, expressive brown eyes, a secretly amused expression. He reminded her dangerously of her ex-boyfriend Paul, her gold standard of maleness, who had inevitably broken her heart.

‘Is, er, your wife here?’ Minette asked, mentally slapping herself around the head the instant it was out of her mouth. See? She should simply not be left alone with men like this.

‘No, Josie’s had to go to work. Mind you, meet the neighbours isn’t really her thing.’

‘Oh, really?’ Minette now felt naff in comparison to the cool unneighbourly Josie.

‘Not me, though. I like it.’ There was a pause. ‘Well, I like meeting some of them.’

Was he flirting or just talking? She looked into her glass, and mumbled, ‘What work does she do?’ Now she’d started on the wife she might as well keep going.

‘Something time-consuming but well-paid, in human resources for Hilton Hotels.’

‘Ah, so do you get to stay in luxury hotels then?’

‘Everyone asks that.’

‘I’m super-original,’ Minette said, attempting to style out her pitiful small talk.

‘We do get the occasional freebie. So, where’s your husband?’

‘Oh, I’m not married. We’re just. Um. There’s no right word for this, is there? Partners, I suppose.’

Liam grinned. ‘So where’s your
partner
?’

‘He’s still at home, changing the baby.’

‘What’s wrong with the one you’ve got?’

‘Very good.’ Minette tried to up her banter. ‘Well, we thought we’d maybe swap her for a quieter one.’

‘Yes, I understand from Cath that the previous neighbours complained.’

‘Oh! I was only joking.’

‘So was I.’

But Cath had told him that? When? She’d only been in the street five minutes. What else had she said?

‘Shall we sit down?’ Liam said, indicating some deckchairs. ‘I’d love to have a bitch about Mr Milton. He told me off once for mowing the lawn at the wrong time.’

It seemed extraordinary that someone who looked like Liam should be sitting next to her, his brown eyes staring into hers. It gave her a reckless, drunk feeling, and she started talking unguardedly, telling how her heart beat faster, even now, every time Tilly cried, how she’d sometimes walked her up and down half the night, and put the cot in the bathroom, as far as possible from the Miltons’ side. How she’d spent hours looking at estate agents’ websites, fantasising about isolated country cottages surrounded by fields.

‘Were you trying to get away from them, that time I saw you early one morning?’

So he remembered that! She nodded.

‘I’m glad you didn’t move. Much better they did. In my considered opinion they were complete wankers.’

She laughed, and changed the subject. She didn’t want him to think she was a moaner. ‘So, do you work for hotels too?’

‘No, I used to do flash money stuff in the city, but I was made redundant last year.’

‘I’m sorry about that.’

‘Sorry I was a trader, or sorry I got made redundant? No need to answer, and definitely no need to be sorry. I’m enjoying being a kept man, for now. Means I have a lot of time at home. Which is nice.’ He all but fluttered his eyelashes at her. He bloody well
was
flirting. ‘Plus I had an excuse to change career. I’m starting teacher training in September.’

Minette gulped down her wine. Oh my god, he was going to be a teacher, which was really cool, and he was at home a lot in the day, and he was flirting, and …

Abe materialised silently at Minette’s side. ‘All right, Dougie?’

‘Abe!’ Minette almost shouted. ‘This is Liam, he lives next door to Cath, his wife Josie is at work, she works for Hilton Hotels. He’s going to be a teacher.’

‘That’s a perfect summary of our conversation,’ Liam said, smoothly. ‘Good to meet you, Abe.’

‘I’ve seen you around,’ Abe said. ‘Haven’t you got one of those folding bikes?’

‘Yes, I sometimes ride it to the station.’ He nodded at Tilly. ‘And I presume this is the changed baby?’

Abe sat down next to Minette, cradling his arms round Tilly, who was nodding off in the sling. ‘She’s worn out. It was an epic shite.’

‘Abe!’

‘He doesn’t mind. You don’t mind, do you? You look like a man of the world.’

‘I am, I suppose,’ Liam said, ‘but I’m not very familiar with the ins and outs of the infant digestive system.’

Minette smiled. ‘You don’t want to be, believe me.’

But Abe was on a roll. ‘I’ve got a system for categorising Tilly’s craps by the number of baby wipes required.’

‘Abe, pack it in.’

‘You got kids?’ Abe asked, and Liam shook his head. ‘Not yet, but I’d very much like to.’

‘With your genes it’d be criminal not to. So he might as well hear it how it is, Dougie. Yeah, a three-wipe job you’ve got off lightly. A bad one could need maybe eight wipes? And on one memorable occasion I single-handedly took care of a twenty-four-wipe special.’

Minette was familiar with this little routine. ‘You’ll put him off kids for life.’

‘Not at all, I love children,’ Liam said, with a heart-melting smile at Minette. He said to her, ‘Why are you called Dougie?’

‘Her surname’s Fairbanks,’ Abe butted in. ‘Like Douglas Fairbanks. Hence Dougie. It’s got to be done.’

‘No one else calls me that, only Abe.’

Lola toddled over and offered up a tray of tiny, professional-looking cakes.

‘What ones do you like?’ Minette asked her.

‘I’m allergic,’ the girl replied.

‘Oh yes. I hope there’s something else you can have?’ Minette took a tiny scone and the girl moved away. ‘So cute.’

‘What made you decide to go into teaching?’ Abe asked. ‘My brother’s a deputy head in Bristol. Tough old game.’

‘Not as tough as unemployment.’

‘I hear you. It’s grim out there,’ Abe said. ‘See it all the time with my clients. Doing five applications a day, some of them, not even getting an acknowledgement.’

‘Abe works at Citizens Advice,’ Minette told Liam.

‘Meant to do IT advice, but you end up helping people with CVs, forms, everything,’ Abe said.

‘For a while I was one of those five applications a day people,’ Liam said. ‘Couldn’t stand it. I’ve always been good with children, so teaching made sense. I’m going to specialise in maths.’

‘I’d have loved maths if …’ Minette began, then realised that she was going to say, if the teacher had looked like you, and hastily amended it to, ‘the teacher had liked children as much as you.’ Both men looked at her, one oddly, the other with an amused upturn at the corner of his mouth. She was rescued by Cath, who was standing on a chair and tapping on a wineglass.

When the conversations petered out, Cath smiled round at everyone – the garden was now full of people – and thanked everyone for coming. ‘Davey, Lola and I are truly grateful for the warm welcome and kindness you’ve shown us in our first couple of weeks here in wonderful Sisley Street.’

Everyone was quiet, watching Cath. She talked about Davey, about his condition, some form of muscular dystrophy, Minette didn’t catch the name, and about her fundraising for groups who supported kids like him. Cath was very compelling, Minette realised. There was something charismatic about her that caught the attention.