The New Neighbours (55 page)

Madeleine passed the receiver to Ian.

“Hi,” he said, “what's going on?”

Angela spoke at some length before, and as she spoke his expression changed from easy openness to one of anxiety. He said, “OK, don't worry, I'll come straight over.”

Angela spoke again, and he replied, “I'll bring her with me, she's in a hell of a state.” He listened again and then said, “Right, I'm on my way,” and replaced the receiver.

“How is she?” cried Chantal. “Is she going to die?”

“No, of course not.” Ian was reassuring. He put his arms round her and gave her a hug. “She's going to be fine. You and I'll go to the hospital now, OK?” He turned to Mad, “You're Madeleine Richmond, aren't you? Thank you for looking after Chantal till I got here.”

“How is Annabel?”

“A bit battered and bruised,” he said with an attempt at a smile, “but she'll be OK.” He turned for the stairs, saying, “Come on, Chantal.”

Mad didn't ask him about the baby, there seemed little point. He hadn't mentioned it, which could be either a good or a bad sign; either way there was no need to remind Chantal about it, for she hadn't asked either. As she watched the tail lights of Ian Haven's car disappear into the dusk, Spike came stalking across the grass and rubbed himself against Mad's legs. She bent down and picked him up, burying her face in his soft fur, and as she stood holding him in her arms, she could feel tears welling up in her own eyes. She thought of Annabel lying in the hospital, bruised and battered, with or without her baby, and her rage at what men could do to women boiled inside her. She turned back to the Madhouse. There were lights on now, so someone must be home. Still holding Spike's comforting warmth in her arms she went across and let herself in.

She found Dean in the living room watching television. When he saw her tear-streaked face, he pretended not to; he simply got up and said, “Hi.”

Mad let Spike drop from her arms and gave Dean a watery smile.

“Is Cirelle back yet?” she asked.

“Yeah, she was. She's gone out to the gym. She said something about Annabel Haven being attacked. Do you know what happened?”

Mad told him what she knew, and needed to blow her nose again hard when she'd finished. “I'd better feed Spike,” she said, to change the subject.

“Hey, talking of Spike,” Dean grinned at her, “I've got a present for you.” He dived into the chaos of his bedroom, returning moments later with a carrier bag. He handed it to Mad. She took it, looking intrigued.

“What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

Mad put her hand cautiously into the bag and pulled out a square metal contraption. It was a cat flap.

“My mate Flintlock, you know the guy I play squash with? Well he's coming round in the morning, he'll fit it in the back door for you.”

Mad looked at him and the tears welled in her eyes again. She put the cat flap back in its bag and laid it on the sofa.

“Oh, Dino,” she said smiling through her tears and giving him a bear-like hug, “I do love you.”

Dean's arms tightened round her and for a moment he laid his cheek against the tumbled darkness of her hair. “Do you?” he said softly, and then in a teasing voice, “I should hope so too!” Reluctantly he let her go and said cheerfully, “Come on, let's go to the Dutch, I feel in need of a beer.”

Mad Richmond and her father drove into Dartmouth Circle in early January, at the beginning of the Lent term. It was a grey day with dull and overcast skies, and a dampness in the air that chilled and clung.

As they drove round the Circle they stared in amazement at the number of for-sale boards which had sprouted like weeds in the front gardens, standing like wooden flags of varying colours. Johnson Fountain with its intertwined J and F in red on a green background, stood outside numbers nine and eleven. The red and black logo of Freddie Jones and Co stood stiffly outside number one and number eight, and a Mark Harrison and Son “Sold By” board stood tipsily in front of number four.

“What on earth is going on here?” Nick Richmond said as he drew to a halt outside the Madhouse. “Everybody's leaving! It must have been one hell of a party you had, Maddo! You've frightened them all away!”

“Dad!” cried Madeleine in horror, “don't say that!”

Nick gave her a quick hug. “Silly girl,” he grinned, “I wasn't serious!”

“Well I am!” Mad said standing beside the car and looking round. “Dad there are five houses for sale. That's half the Circle! There wasn't one before Christmas!”

“No, well, you guessed that old lady's son would sell,” Nick pointed out.

“Yes, that's fair enough,” agreed Mad, “but look, the Havens have sold already and what about the Redwoods? Why would they leave?” She looked aghast at her father. “You don't really think it was because of our party, do you?”

“No, silly girl, I don't,” he replied firmly. “There could be any number of reasons for them to go.” He pulled up outside the Madhouse. “Now don't you worry about it, Maddo, it's not your problem. What you have to do is get that downstairs bedroom ready for your new girl. What's she called?”

“Hattie. Hattie Silverstone. I told you, Dad, she's an education student. She was on teaching practice in London last term, and the landlord of the place where she lived before decided not to have students any more. Four of them are looking for new places, apart from Hattie.”

“Are they indeed?” Nick Richmond looked thoughtful. “That's bad luck for them.” He got out of the car and said, “Come on, let's get to grips with this room.”

Mad picked up the cat basket containing a protesting Spike, and they went into the house, where there was a wonderful smell of bacon. “Anyone at home?” Madeleine called, and Dean appeared, tousle-haired at the top of the stairs, wearing boxer shorts and a T-shirt. He had obviously only just got up.

“Oh, hi Mad,” he said. “I'm just having my breakfast. Hallo, Mr Richmond. There's coffee if you want it.”

Madeleine let Spike out in the hall before following her father upstairs to the living room. It was the usual tip and Mad had to clear a heap of clothes and papers off the sofa so that they could sit down.

“Has Hattie seen the place looking like this?” Nick enquired, looking round at the untidy sitting room.”

“Oh yes,” Madeleine replied cheerfully. “She said it reminded her of home. Coffee, Dad?”

“Just a quick one,” he said, “and then we must get on with this girl's room. I've got to be back for a meeting by half-four.”

They had cleaned Hattie's room, washing down the paintwork, shampooing the carpet and cleaning the window and then Nick touched up the paint where the desk had scraped the wall. By the time they'd finished it looked clean and welcoming.

“When's Hattie arrive?” Dean asked as he joined them for a quick cup of tea before Nick left.

“Not sure, tomorrow or the next day,” Mad replied. “Charlie comes tomorrow, I think, and Cirelle comes on Wednesday.”

“Then you'll be a full house again,” Nick said setting down his cup and getting to his feet. “Well, I hope she fits in all right, this Hattie. I must be off now, Maddo. I've an appointment with Freddie Jones in half an hour. Give us a ring soon.” He planted a kiss on his daughter's cheek and went down to his car.

“Give my love to Mum,” Mad said as he wound down the window. “See you soon, Dad.” Spike wound himself round her legs and Madeleine picked him up. “Oh Spike,” she murmured into his fur, “so much has happened. Everything seems to be changing, and I'm not at all sure about Hattie. I wish Ben was still living here.”

On the evening of Madge Peters' funeral, Dean and Mad had gone to the Dutch for a drink. Ben was behind the bar. He looked tired and drawn, but he greeted them cheerfully enough.

“Hi,” he said, taking two glasses from the shelf. “The usual?”

They perched themselves on bar stools and waited for their drinks.

“So, how's the world of Dartmouth Circle?” Ben asked.

“It was Madge Peters' funeral today, “ Mad said. “Cirelle and I went. Lots of people from the Circle were there. Like, I still can't believe she's died, you know?” Then she thought of Annabel, “And poor Annabel Haven's been attacked, this afternoon, on the allotment path, you know just behind the cut? Mike Callow came and got her mother from the funeral. He took her to the hospital, and I had to go and tell that tarty little sister of hers.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Can't have been easy,” he remarked.

Mad took a pull at her beer. “No it wasn't. When I got there, I didn't care if she was upset. I hoped she'd be miserable, but when she was, I ended up feeling sorry for her! Can you believe that?”

Ben smiled. “Yes, knowing you, I can,” he said. “But who attacked Annabel? Does anyone know?”

“Not yet,” Dean said. “Charlie went to the hospital in the ambulance with her, but she hasn't come home again yet.”

“Charlie did?” Ben was amazed. “Was she there when it happened or what?”

“No, she and Mike Callow were just getting out of the car… you know Mike took Charlie to Ireland when her sister was taken so ill… that was very odd too, don't you think? Like, I mean, I know she babysits for him, but even so.”

“Mad, get on with the story,” implored Ben.

“What? Oh, well yes… well they were just getting home when Annabel appeared at the end of the cut, crying, and covered in blood and bruises. They called an ambulance and Charlie went in it with her, and Mike came to find Mrs Haven.”

“So, have you heard how she is?”

“No, not yet. Her dad came home and took Chantal to the hospital with him. I expect we'll hear more when Charlie gets back.”

“Any other news?” Ben didn't ask directly about Jill Hammond, but they all knew what he was really asking.

“She's been away all week, I think,” Mad said as if the question had been asked. “But she was at the funeral today.”

“Does she know I've moved out?”

“I don't know,” Mad said. “I didn't talk to her. She may do. Some helpful soul like Sheila Colby is sure to have told her.”

“She's a cow,” Dean said conversationally, and downed the last of his beer. “Fill them up, Ben.”

Ben had pulled two more pints, before disappearing to the other end of the bar to serve other customers.

“It's funny without him,” Mad sighed. “I had hoped he might change his mind and come back if I asked him. Do you think he will?”

Dean shrugged. “Don't know,” he said. “Doubt it, somehow.”

“In which case,” said Mad, “I have to find someone else to take his place, because I need the rent. I suppose you don't know of anyone needing a place?”

“No,” Dean shook his head, “But I'll ask around.”

None of their friends came into the Dutch that night, and Mad found she was quite pleased. It was very relaxing sitting with Dean and just chatting. She had to make no effort with Dean, they were completely easy together. With Dan she'd always felt the need to be witty, and bright and clever, to hold his attention on herself in the face of the opposition always present in any bar.

When they left the pub at closing time, Ben had watched them go. He was sorry he couldn't go home with them as he used to, his room at the Dutch was poky and small, and he missed the buzz of the Madhouse, but he knew it would be stupid. Jill Hammond had got to him in a way no other woman ever had, and until it was all over he hadn't even realised it. Now he found he missed her with an almost unbearable ache. He hadn't realised how much he'd looked forward to seeing her, even if it was only when he was doing the odd jobs she'd found for him. Just being near her had become important to him in a way that he would never have believed possible, and memories of the times they had been together making love, gave him physical anguish. If, at the time of the affair he'd been told that he would have anything more than passing regrets when it finished, he would have laughed. A short fling with an older woman that was all, very flattering to the ego and a good lay into the bargain, but nothing lasting.

When she had walked away from him at the party, he had known that that was it, that they wouldn't meet again. Anthony seeing them together would bring an end, a very abrupt end, to the affair. It was the next morning and over the successive days he discovered what he'd lost and the pain of that loss began to grow. He had thought of trying to contact her, of phoning during the day when Anthony would be at work. He'd even got as far as dialling the number, but had put down the receiver before anyone had a chance to answer. He knew it was over, and there was no point in tormenting either of them, and there was certainly no point in going back to live in Dartmouth Circle where they might bump into each other at any time.

Ben sighed and started washing the glasses, so that he could go up to his room. At least he'd be finished here in the summer and then, he decided, he was off round the world.

When Mad and Dean got home, Mad found she had forgotten for a short while, the misery of Dan and Chantal, and the horror of the attack on Annabel. Not for long however, as Charlie was now back and able to tell them how Annabel was getting on.

“She's lost the baby,” she said. “She was already bleeding when Mike and I found her. God, I'd like to get my hands on the bastard that did this to her!” And they all felt the same.

Over the last few days of term Madeleine had looked round for someone else to take Ben's room in the house. When she had suggested he might come back, he was quite adamant that he wouldn't.

“Sorry Mad, but no way. I'm fine here, and I still see you guys in the bar.”

Then Cirelle came up with Hattie. She was in her final year of a B Ed, a large, cheerful girl, with short bouncy dark curls and huge brown eyes. She seemed to fill any room that she came into with her laughter and non-stop chatter. Mad liked her well enough, but wasn't sure how easy she would be to live with. Still she needed the rent, and she had to have someone, and at least Hattie would be down on the ground floor. “Hey, this is really great,” she boomed when she came round to the house to have a look. “I love the room and the house, and I just love its name. The Madhouse, is that cool or what?” And she roared with laughter. Mad told her the rent and the ground rules, though when they went into the kitchen it was Dean's day for washing up, and they clearly hadn't been adhered to.