The New Neighbours (2 page)

“Soon as the sale goes through,” answered Ned. “This place only has bad memories for me. Don't worry, I'll soon be gone—then you'll have the students.”

He watched her drive away and then turned towards his own front door. He was, indeed, relieved to have sold at last. The house had been on the market ever since Jane had finally walked out; the divorce was through and Jane was pestering him for her share of the money. He hadn't got the asking price of course, there was no way anyone in their right mind would have paid that with the house in the state it was. He grimaced at the front door as he opened it, its pitted paint-work blistered and peeling. The four small panes of its window were cracked and dirty and the entry phone, standard equipment in all the Dartmouth Circle townhouses, hung out from the door-frame, broken. Many prospective buyers had turned back at that door, hadn't even bothered to view, turning away from the unprepossessing frontage without knocking. Others attracted by the Dartmouth Circle address, had ventured inside, but had been unable to visualise what the dirty, battle-scarred house might become, or had balked at the cost of the transformation. When Nicholas Richmond had made an offer at the bottom end of the price range that Ned had privately considered acceptable, Ned had leapt at it, delighted to be shot of the place at last.

He went inside and looked round at the gloomy place that was his home. The light bulb in the hall was broken and there was a pervasive smell of garbage, cats and stale air. Then he gave a bitter laugh. Whatever Mr Nicholas Richmond did with the house, Ned would lay money on it that the students who inhabited it would reduce it to its former pig-sty status in no time flat.

Well, serve the old cow next door right, he thought viciously. Stuck-up bitch with her net curtains and trailing geraniums. He laughed aloud at the recollection of Sheila Colby's face when he'd broken the news about the students. She was the worst in the Circle by far. Probably old Mary Jarvis would be equally glad to see the back of him, but at least she had not made it so obvious. Not that he was sorry to be leaving Dartmouth Circle. He and Jane had never really fitted into the little community of retired couples and rising stars. They had been one of the few families with teenage children living at home. Robin and Karen were the only children in the Circle who went to Crosshills Comprehensive. The few other children in the close had attended Beechlands Preparatory School, Belcaster High or were away at boarding school. When Robin and Karen had left home, Jane had gone too, moving in with Joe Briggs, the landlord of the pub where she had worked part-time as a barmaid.

Ned had been left to fend for himself and had made a poor fist of it. The house was far too big and he camped out in the living room with only his cats for company. When he was made redundant, he lowered the asking price for the house; it was time to sell and move on.

Well, at least I've got somewhere lined up to go to, he thought, picturing with some pleasure the one-bedroomed flat he'd agreed to rent in Brighton. I've always liked the sea.

He put the kettle on the stove and dropping a teabag into a chipped mug, began to make a list of what he would take from the house. There was too much for the flat, he'd leave the rest for Jane and the kids to fight over.

As Ned Short drank his tea and made his list, Sheila Colby, never one to let the grass grow, was discussing with Gerald how to mobilise the Dartmouth Circle troops in the face of the student invasion; or rather she was outlining her plans to a largely acquiescent Gerald, who with a long-developed skill appeared to be all attention while actually finishing his crossword. After forty-three years of marriage to Sheila, it was an art he had perfected.

“I shall go and visit everyone in the Circle,” she was saying, “a united front is what we need, a strong representation so that things don't get out of hand. With the Redwoods still away it's up to us to take the lead, don't you think? I'll go and see Anthony Hammond, that will alert the Residents' Association.”

Aware of a pause in the barrage of words, Gerald said, “I don't think there's any rush you know, if they've only just exchanged contracts.”

“But we have to be ready. If everyone's aware of the problem, we can consider some strategy. They may move in straightaway. We must be prepared.”

“I doubt very much if they'll move in before the beginning of the college year in September,” observed Gerald, finally setting aside his paper. “There must be work to be done on the house, you've only got to look at it. The Shorts have done nothing to it in the ten years they've been there. It'll need some money spending on it.”

“Don't be silly, Gerald,” scoffed Sheila. “Students won't have money to spend on doing it up. It'll simply go from bad to worse.”

“I doubt if it's students actually buying the place, Sheila.” Gerald sounded mildly exasperated. “Someone will have bought it with the idea of letting it out to students, and whoever it is will have to make it habitable.”

“You mean it probably isn't decided that students will live in it yet.” Sheila grasped at the straw. “Of course, you're right. If we act at once maybe we can convince the new owner not to let it to students at all, but to some nice professional people. The Circle isn't the sort of place for students to live.”

“I'd have thought it was perfect for them,” Gerald pointed out wickedly. “Five minutes walk from the college, ten minutes to the leisure centre and three to the nearest pub.”

“I shouldn't think the Ship and Compass'll want them. It's such a nice quiet pub.”

“In the present economic climate I should think they'll welcome them with open arms,” Gerald said gravely. “They'll be glad of the custom.”

“And then they'll come home from the pub at all hours, drunk and rowdy,” said Sheila, hotly. “I know I'm right, Gerald, we must do something. We should go round and see everyone this afternoon and warn them of the situation.”

“You must do as you think fit,” sighed Gerald, picking up his paper again. “I don't think you should meddle. And this afternoon, I shall be playing golf with Andrew Peters.”

“Well, at least you can tell him,” said Sheila, blithely ignoring his comment about meddling, “His mother lives alone in number one. She's ninety if she's a day; she'll be terrified of having a house full of students just across the road.”

Gerald did not agree with this last statement. Madge Peters had insisted on living alone in her own home, despite anything Andrew could do to try to move her to somewhere smaller or more convenient, and he couldn't imagine her being terrified of anyone, let alone a bunch of students. But he had long ago learned the wisdom of keeping ninety per cent of his thoughts to himself and he did so now, merely remarking that he would mention the news to Andrew when he saw him this afternoon so that he could warn Madge if he wanted to. Another thought that occurred to him, but which he also prudently kept to himself, was that the students were an invention of Ned's, simply to worry Sheila. He wouldn't put such a piece of spite past Ned Short, but Gerald decided to say nothing, as Sheila would not find it a reassuring thought, it would just fuel her rage.

Ben Gardner sat at his desk and stared out of the window across the college gardens to the windows of the hall opposite. He had an essay on Richard III to hand in, in the morning, and he had only just begun to marshal his thoughts on how that monarch governed his kingdom, and already his mind was drifting again. Next year he had to find somewhere to live, he couldn't remain in hall for his final year and so far he had done little to find himself a room or a flat. There had been some talk earlier in the year that Madeleine Richmond's father was going to buy a house for her to live in for the rest of her time at college, and was going to rent out the other bedrooms in it to pay the mortgage. Madeleine had asked Ben if he wanted to go in with her, to take one of the rooms that would be on offer, and he had agreed. It seemed a good idea.

“Yeah,” he said, “Why not? We get on all right. As long as I have a room to myself… and the rent's right of course,” he added as an afterthought. “You asked anybody else yet?”

Madeleine shook her head. “Not yet. Got any ideas? No boyfriends or girlfriends though, too much hassle.” She looked stricken for a moment. “You didn't want Angie to share too, did you? I mean…”

“No, I didn't,” Ben reassured her.

“It's just that…well I mean, of course she's very welcome to visit any time, to stay over and things, but not to live. One of Dad's rules!”

“Don't worry,” Ben said. “That arrangement suits me fine. Have you got anyone in mind? How big's the house? I mean, how many bedrooms?”

Madeleine laughed. “I don't know. We haven't found one yet!”

“Yeah, well when you have, let me know.”

Occasionally after that, Ben would ask her how the house hunting was going, and Madeleine would grin cheerfully and say, “Nothing yet, but we're still looking.” He hoped that they would find something suitable. He liked Mad Richmond, she made him laugh. They went around in the same crowd, as her present boyfriend, Dan Sharp, was another keen rugby man, and Ben thought she was always good company.

Now it was May, and if they didn't find a house soon he'd have to give up on Madeleine and make a determined effort to find something, somewhere. It wouldn't be easy, there were too many students chasing too little accommodation in the town, and only freshers were automatically found a place in hall. Ben sighed. He'd been relying on Mad Richmond, but it didn't sound as if she would definitely have a house ready for the end of September, and he had to be practical. He wondered what the others had decided to do. There were now three other students who were interested in sharing the house. Ben knew them as they were all in the same hall, and he liked them well enough, but he wasn't particularly close to any of them. He hoped the house would be big enough to give them room to breathe… if there was a house.

Ben was older than most of the students in his year as he had only decided to go to university after trying several other things first. He'd left it late and at twenty-five he was determined to get a good degree, but he was short of cash, he had no grant, only a student loan. To make enough money to live, he worked several evenings a week in the Flying Dutchman, a pub frequented mainly by students from the university. It was good working there because he was able to join in some of the social side of life from the other side of the bar. His girlfriend, Angie, often came and sat on the corner bar stool, making a half of shandy last most of the evening, and the Dutch, as it was known, was also the official rugby club pub, and Ben was a regular player in the Belcaster University first fifteen, The Belchers.

He knew that as a last resort there might be a chance of a room at the Dutch, but he didn't really want to live there.

“You can probably have the back bedroom,” Joe Briggs the landlord had said when he heard that Ben was looking for somewhere for next year. “I haven't used it since we stopped doing B&B. Now it's only a dumping ground. It's not big, mind, but it would serve a turn if you wanted it. Be nice to have you on hand, in case you needed any extra hours.”

“Thanks, Joe.” Ben had been touched by the offer, but it certainly wasn't ideal as far as he was concerned. He didn't want to be “on hand” as Joe put it, called up whenever Joe and Jane were short-staffed. However, he did go up and look at the room. It was tiny, with no space for more than a bed and a desk, and there were no kitchen facilities. No, certainly not ideal, but it was an offer he could keep on hold to be accepted if he became desperate. “Thanks, Joe, I may take you up on it, but I'm still hoping Madeleine Richmond's dad is going to find a house in time.”

Joe nodded. He liked Ben, he was a popular barman and good at the job, and he wanted to keep him. “No problem. It'd be much more fun for you in a proper student house, and that Mad Richmond is always a live wire isn't she? I mean, never quiet when she's in the bar, is it? But you know the offer's there if you want it.”

“I can't see why you don't move in with me,” Angie suggested when he told her about Joe's offer. “That seems the obvious thing to do. There'll be room in our house in September, because David will have graduated.” Ben shook his head. He had no intention of moving in with Angie for various reasons, but all he said was, “No, I don't think so, Ange. I don't want to live that far out of town.”

“It's not far out,” Angie said.

“Not for you,” Ben agreed, “you've got a car.”

“Or what passes for one,” Angie agreed ruefully thinking of the clapped-out Volkswagen beetle she had bought with her summer vacation earnings. “You could always get a bike. Be good for your rugby training, biking in every day.”

That was another bone of contention. Ben's rugby. It was all right in the summer when there wasn't any, but during the season when he went training mid-week and played matches every Saturday, sometimes miles away so that he wasn't home for the evening, there had been several mutterings about “You love rugby more that you do me”, and on balance Ben thought that he probably did.

Anyway, he had lived with a girlfriend before and it was not an experience he was rushing to repeat. When he was twenty his girlfriend, Katie, had moved in with him and they had been a definite item for over a year. Gradually however, they had drifted apart and things had started to go wrong. Their circle of friends changed as Katie became more involved in her job and the people she worked with, and Ben seemed excluded. She had less and less time for the crowd he wanted to go around with and the recriminations began… Where have you been? Why are you so late? Who have you been with? By the time they had finally decided that their relationship was over and Katie moved out, the last flames of affection had been extinguished, the upheaval was enormous and the bitterness extraordinary.