The New Neighbours (43 page)

When the front door of the Madhouse closed behind the police, the students who were left looked round at each other in silence for a moment.

Cirelle flopped on to the sofa and, speaking for them all, said, “Shit, what a mess!”

Madeleine still stood within the circle of Dean's arm, trembling with shock, anger and pain, but as if released by the sound of Cirelle's voice, she pulled free and went to the window. She looked out at the tail lights of the police car disappearing into the darkness of the Circle and cried, “Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!” Then turning back to face her friends, she said more quietly, “What a shithouse!” Fighting to keep back more tears, she said, “I'm going to bed. I think I'll sleep in Charlie's room tonight. We'll sort this place out in the morning.”

Cirelle made a move towards her: “I'll come up with you,” she began, but Mad said quickly, “I'm OK, Cirelle, really. I just want to be on my own, you know?”

“Fine, OK,” Cirelle agreed, “if you're sure,” but her eyes were anxious. Leaving the others to do as they chose, Mad went slowly up the stairs to Charlie's room. The door stood open and displayed the bedclothes tumbled to the floor in a heap. Mad stared at them for a moment before realising what this meant. She opened the door of her own room and found it exactly as she had left it, and realised with an overwhelming flood of relief, that it had not been violated as she'd thought. Dan had not taken Chantal there, in Madeleine's own bed; he had used Charlie's bedroom. She closed her door again and went back to the door of Charlie's room. She could smell the sweet smell of the hash, mixed with… whatever. From the smell and the drink, she felt suddenly sick and had to dash for the bathroom.

Later, she sponged her face and hands, cleaned her teeth, and feeling marginally better, determined to face Charlie's room again. After all, it couldn't be left as it was, and as there was no way she was going to sleep, she'd feel better doing something. Drawing a deep breath she went into the room and threw open the window to the cold darkness. The chill air rushed in and swept round the room, scouring it, scooping up the sickly smell left by Dan and Chantal and wafting it out into the night. Immediately, Mad set to work. She pulled all the remaining bedclothes off the bed, stripping pillow cases from pillows, duvet cover from duvet and sheet from mattress, and hurled them into a heap on the landing. She punched the pillows and hung them out of the gaping window, she shook the duvet and draped that over the top of the pillows. She tipped the remains of the cigarettes into the bin, and with the bin in one hand and the dirty bedclothes tucked under the other arm, she set off downstairs to the washing machine in the garage. She piled the dirty linen inside and set the washer going. She emptied the bin into the dustbin outside the front door and then went back upstairs.

The living room was empty now. Cirelle had disappeared to her own room, and there was no sound from Dean's room, so he and Pepper must have gone to bed too. Ben had followed Jill downstairs, when she had left and hadn't reappeared. The peculiarity of Jill and Ben being together was yet another thing Mad put to one side in her brain. She didn't want to think about anything, she wasn't yet ready to consider any of the dreadful events of the evening or their consequences.

The room itself was a shambles, empty glasses and overflowing ashtrays on every available ledge and shelf. Empty cans and bottles littered the floor, and when she glanced into the kitchen, it was the same in there, and the whole place was pervaded by the sour smell of beer and smoke. Madeleine looked at it all, but felt too drained to cope with it. She didn't want to go back upstairs either, so she simply shook out some of the cushions and the throw that covered the sofa and made a place for herself to curl up.

For a moment she rested, and allowed her mind to relax. It was a mistake; her misery flooded back. Dan! How could he? How could he do that to me? At my own party! I know he was pissed, but that's no excuse. He seduced that bloody Chantal, a bloody schoolgirl, if not in my own bed, under my own roof. He's a shit! A bag of shit! She wanted to scream the words at him, fling them in his face.

The pain surged through her again in a wave, and the tears poured down her cheeks in hot streams. She knew that this time there would be no forgiving Dan, no taking him back. She could not do it. She felt utterly betrayed, and anger at that betrayal combined with the pain, chilled her to the bone and made her start shaking again. This is no good, she told herself angrily. Pull yourself together! You're behaving like a wimp.

In an effort to get warm she pulled the woollen throw around her, huddling into its folds, and as her tears began to dry, surprisingly, drifted off into an uneasy doze.

When Mad awoke, day was breaking. A dull grey light had stolen through the window, and the room was freezing. Curled into an awkward ball, her legs drawn up under her on the sofa, she was stiff and cold. The throw was still clasped round her but afforded little warmth. She realised with a start that the window was still open, as must be the one in Charlie's room. She hadn't been back up there to close it, or to bring in the bedclothes she'd hung out to air. Stiffly Mad got to her feet and closed the window, then she went upstairs to do the same in Charlie's room. At the door, she surveyed the room again. There was no smell any more, just a roomful of cold December air. She dragged the bedclothes in and shut the window. Pillows and duvet were all damp now, but at least they didn't smell any more either. Mad draped them around the radiator to dry again and then went into her own room. It was warmer in there, but Madeleine was wide awake now and too restless to settle to anything. She decided to have a bath and get warm.

After her bath she dressed from the skin out in clean clothes and went back downstairs. There was still no sign of anyone else stirring, but Mad couldn't stay by herself, so she decided to go out for a walk. It was early Sunday morning, and there was no one else about. She stepped out into the sharp winter air and paused, looking at the Circle. The garden looked bleak and damp, with soggy leaves lying on the grass. How different from the September barbecue, thought Mad idly; that day had been sunny and warm with colours still glowing in the flowers and shrubs. It seemed a long time ago, but then everything before yesterday seemed a long time ago. She walked round the Circle and decided to head for town, perhaps she'd get them a Sunday paper. As she passed number one, she looked up and saw Madge Peters sitting in her window, looking out over the Circle. Madge waved and Madeleine lifted a hand in reply. Madge waved again and pantomimed drinking a cup of tea. Madeleine stopped and pointed in enquiry to herself. Madge nodded and mimed the tea again. Madeleine managed a smile and nodded.

Why not, she thought, I've nothing else to do. And turning, she went to the front door and pushed it open as Madge pressed the door release from upstairs.

“Come up,” Madge called, and added as Madeleine climbed the stairs, “you're up early after a late night!” She was in the kitchen, filling the kettle and organising a teapot and mugs. “Would you rather have coffee?” she asked.

“I'm sorry,” Mad said, “if we kept you awake.” She stood at the kitchen door and Madge saw her face, grey and drawn, her eyes red and puffy.

“My dear child,” she exclaimed, “what on earth's happened?” She moved towards her and held out her arms. Mad was enfolded and the sympathy she felt engulfing her broke her self-control and for a moment she wept again. Madge, continued to hold her, making sympathetic noises until the worst was over and then said gently, “Let's get that tea, and then we'll sit down and you can tell me all about it… if you want to.” She poured the water into the teapot and then Mad carried the tray into the sitting room and set it on the table in the window.

Madge poured the tea and then, when each had her mug, looked across at Madeleine and smiled. “Good party last night, was it?” she enquired lightly.

Cradling the warm mug in her hands, Mad managed a wan smile. “No,” she replied, “it was bloody awful.”

“Well, it was quite noisy,” Madge said. “I saw the police arrive. I suppose someone sent for them.”

Mad shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose,” she agreed. “Probably old Ma Colby next door.”

“Well, it must have been very loud for her,” Madge said reasonably. “But that's not the problem, is it.” This wasn't a question, but a statement. “What's really upset you? Or don't you want to talk about it?”

If Mad had been asked earlier if she wanted to talk about Dan and his betrayal, she'd have refused, feeling that if she hadn't faced up to it, it might, somehow, not have really happened. But now, faced with Madge's kindly commonsense, she found that she did need to speak of it, to bring it out and accept the fact that Dan was in the past.

“It's Dan,” she began. “I've always known he eyes up other girls, like, chatting up any bird who'd listen, but I've put up with it. He always came back to me, you know…” Gradually she told Madge the whole story, ending with last night in the pub and at the house.

“I don't even know why Chantal Haven was there, except that she's latched on to us since we arrived here. Makes her feel grown up I suppose. She's always giving blokes the eye, Dan included.”

“She's a flighty little piece,” observed Madge, drinking her tea. “Get herself into trouble like that sister of hers, I shouldn't be surprised.”

“I can't see what a man Dan's age would see in her,” Mad protested. “She's just a kid.”

“Kid she may be, but she's got legs up to her armpits and a very neat little bum,” Madge said.

Madeleine looked startled at that, and Madge laughed and said, “I wasn't always ninety, you know.”

Spike wandered into the room and seeing Madeleine sitting in the armchair, sprung gracefully on to her lap and made himself comfortable. “Spike really likes you,” Madge said. “He ignores most people, and Sheila Colby he actively dislikes, he walks out very pointedly when she comes to call!” Madeleine smiled at this and Madge was pleased to see it.

“What you have to realise, Mad,” she went on, “is that most men are ruled by what's between their legs. Not all to the same extent, of course, but they do do some very stupid things, and then expect us to sort them out.” She looked across at Mad. “Do you love him?”

“I don't know,” wailed Mad. “I thought I did. We seemed to have something, well, special. But now… after this. How can you love someone who does this to you, you know?”

“Will you take him back?” asked Madge gently.

“No.” Mad's answer was emphatic. “Not this time. Even if I do still love him! But I don't think he'll try to come back this time.”

“Maybe not,” Madge agreed, “but it'd be as well to be prepared in your own mind, so you know for sure what your answer will be.” She reached out and took Mad's hand. “You must set a high value on yourself, Mad. You are an extremely attractive woman, and though it doesn't seem like it now, you'll soon find someone else. Someone who wants to be with you because you're full of vitality and fun, because you're good company, not just for your body and because you're good in bed! Someone who sees you as a whole person and loves you as you are Don't downgrade yourself to Dan's level, Mad, set a proper value on yourself, and others will do the same.” She gave a wry smile. “I'm not saying forget him and get on with life, it's not as easy as that, because you're hurting inside. It'll take time, but the hurt will heal and then we both know you can do it.” The old lady smiled again. “There now, lecture over. Just remember there are other fish in the sea… I know, I know, who wants a fish?!” This earned her a smile from Mad. “But it's true all the same!”

An easy silence lapsed over them broken only by the purring of the cat on Mad's lap.

“And now, I think,” Madge said shrewdly, “you should go for a long walk, you'll find the fresh air and exercise clear your head, and you'll come home with a new perspective on things. Then you should try to mend a few fences. I'm not telling you what to do…” She was of course, and they both knew it, but Madeleine found she didn't mind and Madge wanted Madeleine to have an agenda for the day, “But it wouldn't hurt to go round to the Colbys and the Redwoods and apologise for disturbing their sleep. Take them a bunch of flowers or something. After all, you've got to go on living next door to them.”

“You're right, I suppose,” Mad said, getting to her feet and placing the still-purring Spike on to Madge's lap. “I'll go to that garden centre place near the cathedral and find them something.” She went over to the old lady's chair and took her hand. “Thank you, Madge, for everything, lecture and all! It's been a great help just talking, like, you know, getting it all off my chest. You're very easy to talk to.”

“Good.” Madge squeezed the hand in hers. “Well, come and see us again soon, we'll be pleased to see you any time, won't we Spike?”

Madge had listened to Madeleine going down the stairs and heard her call a last “goodbye” before the front door closed behind her. She saw her appear on the pavement and with a final wave, disappear out into the Dartmouth Road. The old lady sighed. Suddenly she felt very tired, and she closed her eyes and thought about everything Mad had told her.

What a bastard! she thought. A cad… that's what my father would have called him, a cad. Madeleine's certainly better off without him. Lucky escape… I remember someone like him, what was he called? Jack, Jack someone or other… Jack the Cad… Jack the Lad… Quietly Madge drifted off into memories of her own and so slid gradually into a deep, peaceful and unending sleep.

Clare and Nicholas Richmond drove into Dartmouth Circle on the morning after Madeleine's birthday to take her out for lunch. They'd known that she would want to be with her friends on the actual day and had arranged to come over on the Sunday. It was nearly twelve o'clock when they arrived, but there was no sign of life from The Madhouse. As they drew up outside, they saw David Redwood washing his car with the help of his young grandson. Nick gave a cheerful wave, and was treated to a curt nod, before David went back in through the front door.