The New Neighbours (17 page)

Madeleine knew it made sense; she knew that relationships could get claustrophobic, she'd seen it with Ben and Angie, and didn't want hers and Dan's to go the same way. It wasn't that she and Dan didn't sleep together, they did and she was pretty certain that her parents knew they did, though nothing had ever been said, but in moments of clarity she recognised they both needed their own space.

However, she'd promised to cook dinner for the two of them to celebrate her occupation of the house, and she didn't anticipate he would be going home to the gloomy flat that evening. She was really longing to see him as they'd been apart for most of the summer. He'd been away working at a beach restaurant in the south of France, and their only contact had been a few hasty phone calls and a couple of scrawled postcards. Madeleine knew there must have been girls in France; she had to be realistic. Dan wasn't the man to resist a bikinied French girl with plenty to offer, and the beach was no doubt swarming with those, but she was anxious to re-establish their relationship, to slipback into the acceptance that they were a couple as they had been before.

By the time Dan arrived, she had sorted out her own room and the kitchen, made a pot of spag bol and showered and washed her hair. When the doorbell rang, she was waiting and when she opened the door, there was Dan, face tanned, teeth brilliant white in his flashing smile.

For a moment she looked at him and her face creased into its familiar grin. “Hi,” she said.

“Hey, Mad,” he drawled, “you're looking great.” He hugged her and then kissed her, and she knew as she returned his kiss that everything was going to be all right. Dan was back.

Dean Joseph directed his mother into Dartmouth Circle, and they pulled up outside number seven.

“Looks a nice house,” Janice Joseph said, looking up at it.

Dean was looking at it too, in amazement. Last time he had seen the place it was decidedly scruffy with flaking paint and cracked window panes. Now it was newly painted, the windows were clean and the front door stood open as if in welcome.

“They've done a lot of work on it,” he said. “You should have seen it before!”

They got out of the car and walked up to the front door. Dean pushed it gently and leaning inside called up the stairs, “Hallo! Anyone there? Mad, are you there?”

“Well, goodness, look at that!” Janice was looking at the house's nameplate beside the front door. “The Madhouse. Is that's what it's called?”

“She really has had a nameplate done!” Dean laughed in delight. “She said she would. Yes, it's called The Madhouse, because it's Mad's house. Come on let's go in. Mad may have popped out, that's why she's left the door for us. I said we'd be here some time this afternoon.”

He led the way into the house and up the stairs to the first floor. One quick glance into the kitchen showed him the improvement in the kitchen with its new work surfaces, gleaming sink, and what were clearly a new cooker and a new fridge.

“Hmm, that looks nice,” said Janice peering over his shoulder.

“Wonder how long that'll stay looking like that.”

Dean ignored that comment. “Here's the living room,” he said, leading her into it. “See, they've cut off the back part to make another bedroom; it all used to be one big room.”

He opened the new door to reveal a bedroom that looked out over the back garden. It was furnished with a bed, wardrobe and desk. A small bedside cabinet stood by the bed and there was a shelf for books running the length of one wall. The carpet flowed in from the living room.

“This is my room, Mum,” Dean said and went and sat on the bed bouncing up and down. “Bed's quite comfortable.”

“It's a nice room,” agreed his mother, going to the window to look out. “Pretty curtains. The garden's a bit of a mess, isn't it?”

“That's our next job,” said a voice from the door. “Hi, Dino.” Madeleine came into the room and gave him her usual bear-like hug. “Do you like your room?”

“Yeah, great. Mad, this is my mum. She's brought me down with all my stuff.”

“Hallo, Mrs Joseph,” said Madeleine. “Nice to meet you. Would you like a cup of tea? I'll just put the kettle on.” She led the way back to the kitchen.

“Hey, Mad, this is an improvement,” Dean said, as she filled the kettle and plugged it in. “This kitchen was a nightmare before.”

“Come and see the rest of the house while the kettle boils,” Madeleine said. “Dad's done a fantastic job. You won't recognise any of it.”

They went up the second flight and proudly Madeleine showed them the three bedrooms there.

“Look good, don't they?” said Madeleine. “Mine's this one, overyours… so keep the noise down.”

They all laughed, and Janice said, “I should think you'll all have to keep the noise down. I don't envy your neighbours, specially if you all have your music as loud as our Dean does at home.”

“Oh, we'll be careful,” promised Madeleine. “My mum's been on at me too. Look, here's the bathroom. New bath and shower and a new loo. You guys have got your shower down on the ground floor, and a basin and loo as well, so you'll only need to come up here if you want a proper bath. Come down and see Ben's room.”

They trekked back down to the ground floor and inspected Ben's room, as yet unoccupied, and the “downstairs ablutions” as Mad referred to them. “We took the very end off Ben's room to make a passage to the garden door. Now we can get into the garden without going through his room.”

“It all seems very cleverly organised,” Janice remarked as they sat in the living room with their cups of tea. “Your dad must have spent a lot of time and effort on it.”

“And money,” said Dean. “You should have seen it before, Mum, it was horrendous.” He turned to Madeleine. “When do the others come back, Mad?”

“Ben and Cirelle are coming tomorrow, and Charlie comes on Friday. It's a good thing we'll all be here by the weekend, because we've been invited to a party, look.” She reached for an invitation that was standing on the mantelpiece. “Madge Peters, from number one, it says, is going to be ninety on Sunday and is having a barbecue in the garden to celebrate, and we're all invited.”

“In the garden? What garden? Hers?”

“No, the one in the middle of the close. Dad's been invited to join the Residents' Association, and this party is something to do with them. This Mrs Peters who lives at number one, has arranged this party for her birthday with the residents' club, and we're all invited so we can get to know our neighbours.”

“What a lovely idea,” said Janice, taking the invitation from Madeleine and reading it.

Dean pulled a face. “I'm not sure I want to go to a barbecue the first weekend back at college,” he moaned.

“It's all right, it won't interfere with any plans you've got,” laughed Madeleine. “It's Sunday lunchtime. You won't even miss your Sunday lie-in after your Saturday night on the town. Anyway,” she went on, “you don't have to go if you don't want to, but Dad says I ought to go as they've made the effort to invite us.”

“I'm sure he's right,” Janice said firmly. “You should go too, Dean. It's only manners.”

“Hmm, I'll see,” Dean said noncommittally. “Come on, Mum, we'd better get the car unloaded. You've got a long drive home again.”

All three of them carried Dean's belongings into the house, and what with stereo equipment, two lamps, boxes of books, and a supply of food, it took them several journeys.

“Don't look now,” Madeleine, said to him as they went out for the second load, “but her indoors next door in number six is watching from the window. She's always snooping out of that window.”

Dean flicked his eyes upwards and saw the shadow of someone standing behind a lace curtain, watching them. “I'm going to wave,” he said, and suiting the action to the word, he looked up at the living room window of number six and raised his hand in cheerful greeting. The shadow instantly disappeared and there was no return wave. Dean laughed. “She's gone,” he said in mock surprise.

Madeleine giggled. “We haven't met the ones on that side yet,” she said, “but the ones on the other side are called David and Shirley Redwood, and they're OK.”

By the time the car was empty, Dean's room looked like a second-hand shop, with boxes and bags stacked up, and an armful of clothes dumped on the bed.

“Well, I must be on my way,” Janice said. “Nice to have met you, Madeleine, I hope you'll all be very happy in your Madhouse. I love the sign, by the way.”

“Thanks,” said Madeleine. “I'm sure we will.”

“Now, I thought you might not have time to go shopping before this evening,” Janice went on, “so I've put a pot of chicken curry into the fridge. I don't know how you're going to work the food between you, but there's enough there for the two of you this evening if you want it. All you need to do is warm it up and to boil some rice. There's a packet of rice in one of Dean's food boxes.”

“Hey, thanks very much, Mrs Joseph,” Madeleine said. “That's really kind of you.”

“Yeah, thanks, Mum.” Dean gave her a peck on the cheek. “Now you ought to be going or Dad'll think you've piled up on the motorway.”

Janice laughed. “It's all right,” she said, “I'm going.” She turned again to Madeleine. “I think you should call me Janice,” she said. “Mrs Joseph sounds a bit stiff if you're living with Dean, don't you think?”

They saw her into the car, watching and waving as she drove off round the Circle.

As they walked back into the house, Dean waved again to number six's living room window. There didn't seem to be anyone there, but as he said to Mad, “You never know, and you wouldn't want them to think we weren't friendly, now would you?”

That evening, when they had done justice to Janice's chicken curry, Madeleine went out to meet Dan, but Dean stayed in to sort his room out. When he had the house to himself, he wandered round it slowly, just as Madeleine had done, going into every room again and looking at it. It would seldom be quiet like this again. It would be a good place to live, he decided, and set about unpacking his belongings and making his room his own. The first thing he set up was his stereo, and for the rest of the evening treated himself to Pink Floyd. Remembering his mother's comments about noise, he didn't have it as loud as he would have chosen, but even so it was a good thing that the Colbys were out, or Sheila would have been certain her worst fears were being realised.

Luckily the doorbell was shrill, for Dean did actually hear it above his music. He went down to the front door, wondering if one of the others had decided to come back a day early after all, or if Mad had had yet another row with Dan. When he opened the door, however, he found a girl on the doorstep. She was tall and slim, with long auburn hair hanging round her shoulders. Her long legs were shown off to advantage in the miniest of mini skirts, and her eyes were glowing in her face.

“Hallo,” he said in surprise.

“Hallo,” she replied, “I'm Chantal.”

Chantal had practised to herself in the mirror, what she was going to say when he opened the door. She tried, “How do you do, I'm Chantal Haven, and I live at number four,” but that seemed terribly formal and also rather schoolgirlish, and the last thing she wanted was for him to think of her as a schoolgirl. She tried a super-casual “Hi, Chantal's the name,” but somehow the words didn't come out right when they were said aloud. Finally she settled for the simple, “Hallo, I'm Chantal,” and practised it several times to introduce the right husky tone into her voice. Then she had to wait for her mother to be busy catching up on the ironing in front of the television, and for Annabel to be working in her room. At last they were properly occupied and she could slip out of the house and walk round to number seven. She had seen Dean emptying the car earlier. He wasn't desperately handsome or anything, in fact he looked a bit small and ordinary and she wasn't sure she liked his beard, but she was determined to meet him and have an introduction to the students before Annabel did. After all, even if this one wasn't anything special, he could introduce her to the others, and there might be one… She knew of course that she was going to meet them at old Mrs Peters' barbecue on Sunday, at least she hoped they would come, but there would be lots of people there, almost the whole Circle probably, and she might not be remembered afterwards. Much better to get in ahead of the crowd. She put on her make-up carefully, quite aware that it made her look several years older than her actual fifteen, chose an outfit to dazzle, and set out.

“Hi, Chantal, I'm Dean. Are you looking for Mad?”

“Mad?” Chantal looked blank.

“Madeleine Richmond… who lives here?”

“Oh, no.” Chantal felt confused and at a disadvantage. “No, well, yes sort of. It's just, well, I live at number four and I thought I'd come over and introduce myself, you know, and say welcome to the Circle.”

“The Circle?” It was Dean's turn to look confused.

“Yeah, the Circle, this road, Dartmouth Circle. It's known as the Circle.”

“Oh, well, thanks very much. Ahem, do you want to come in? I'm afraid the others aren't here. Mad is out, and the others arrive tomorrow or Friday, I'm not sure which.” Dean stood back in the doorway and Chantal walked in past him. She stood at the bottom of the stairs andlooked round.

“They've done an awful lot to this place, it was pretty crappy before. Is that your music?”

Dean nodded, “Yeah. Do you like Pink Floyd?”

“Yeah, cool.”

“Come up if you like,” Dean said, “and I'll make some coffee, or there may be a beer.” Chantal turned at once and set off up the stairs and as Dean followed he was treated to an extended view of her legs right up to the little white panties which stretched tight across her bottom.