The Whiskerly Sisters (22 page)

“And he wasn’t entirely believed,” remarked Jax, “so it seems he might not have got away with it scot free.”

“Which is probably why he complained about the gossip and why he got removed from the course by the powers that be. The likelihood is that he probably went off sick from the effort of having to swallow his pride and take on a lesser role in the dizzy depths of public awareness training,” added Celia.

“Is that enough?” Izza asked Tiffany quietly.

“Enough?” What do you mean – is it enough?” stormed Tiffany, still pretty cross and now confused.

“Enough of a come down for you? Enough revenge?” replied Izza calmly, her mobile forgotten as she concentrated on the drama of the friend in front of her. These days she paid more attention to the people in the room with her than to the ping of her phone.

“No, it sodding well isn’t,” Tiffany spat back. “After what Bex just told me, I feel angrier than ever. The bastard!”

“Okay, so what do you want us to do to him then?” asked Izza, cutting to the chase.

“I don’t know, but it had better hurt,” replied Tiffany savagely.

So, after ordering another round, the Whiskerlies discussed their options and, by closing time, they had a pretty good idea of what they were going to do.

I
t wasn’t what you knew, it was who you knew and, fortunately for Charley, she knew all the right people. She was also intelligent enough to know how to use them to her advantage. In the end, it was a friend of a friend who offered a way out of her particular dilemma.

The Whiskerlies had debated at length the right way to go about settling their friend’s noisy neighbours issue. Over the past few months, Charley had invested in various strategies of her own. A frontal attack had failed, several subtle sorties had similarly proved fruitless, and ignoring the problem had not made it go away.

Surprisingly, it was Izza, who came up with the best idea of all. Why not invite some of Charley’s posh friends to a summer ‘at home’ and expose them all to the untuneful ‘orchestral manoeuvres of the bark’ from the retards next door? Surely one of them could pull the right strings. The girls carried the idea forward, embellishing Izza’s original strategy until, finally, Charley herself began to believe it just might work. As they began to work out the details, Charley told them that she felt she didn’t really need help from every member of the team and singled out Fresna, for her sophistication, Bex, for her listening skills and Sly, just because she fancied him, to come along as guests, but the others simply refused to be side-lined and suggested they come as waitresses instead. Celia swore she wouldn’t swear and promised faithfully to keep her mouth closed and her strong opinions to herself. Charley told them she would think about it. In the end, Bex stepped in and persuaded her that she might actually need all the help she could get and told her to thank her lucky stars that she had so many loyal friends instead of picking and choosing among them like a duchess! Charley, rarely so completely put in her place, demurred and the game was on. Tiffany, consulting her diary, proffered her apologies. She would be on duty on the agreed date.

Tasteful, elegant invitations were posted out to all the right people. A few neighbours were also included. Bex, with Sly as sous chef took charge of the catering and, for the two weekends before the event, she encouraged everyone to cook up a storm. Individual gourmet desserts, sorbets, home-made mini quiches, vol au vents, canapés, dips and crudités were all beautifully prepared and stored in various freezers. The right wines were chosen. On the morning of the soiree, Bex prepared two whole fresh baked salmon whilst Sly roasted a side of beef. Several trays were delivered from Harrods’ and there was also a visit from a local florist.

The garden was looking particularly lovely at that time of year and Charley had organised for it to be trimmed to perfection by hired hands. The house, never less than perfect by anyone’s standards, had also been treated to the services of professional cleaners. All Charley needed now was for the sun to shine and for her neighbours next door to behave normally. Charley, never one to trust to luck, crossed her fingers and prayed to the gods of good weather.

The glorious weather Charley had ordered obediently arrived and the sun continued to shine all day as caterers, florists, delivery men and friends came and went. As the late summer afternoon began to give itself over to a russet evening sky, Charley began to welcome her guests. As always, she had dressed well; smart, yet casual, subtly expensive. Adorned with the right accessories and flawlessly made up, she moved with practiced grace through the select group of people, putting them at their ease and introducing them to potential new associates. Relaxed, yet attentive, sociable, yet slightly aloof, laughing in all the right places, Charley was the perfect hostess. However, not everything was going according to plan. It was just bad luck that the chavs next door had chosen the one day of the year that Charley needed them to behave outrageously to bugger off out the door. Charley was furious. “The sodding bastards,” she thought. What a fucking waste of time and money her party was going to be.

Still, assumptions can be so wrong, can’t they?

It was Celia, proffering a tray of canapés to a group of long time business acquaintances, who picked up the first clue. The overbearing, overweight lady in the vivid red suit talking to the Chief Superintendent, in a frightfully, frightfully voice, was fairly certain that a family member owned the house next door. Celia stiffened on hearing the news and gently edged forward. She listened more closely and discovered that the woman, whom she instantly nicknamed ‘Scarlett O’Hara’ had a brother who was a property developer and rented several properties in the local area. Scarlett couldn’t be certain, but she was sure that next door was owned by his company. Celia could barely contain her excitement and, ignoring the fingers of several guests wishing to taste the culinary delights on her tray, she rushed inside to tell Jax, who was washing glasses in the kitchen. Izza, entering mid-conversation to refill her tray, was sent to find Fresna and pass on the news.

Fresna, who had been flirting effortlessly with the Head of the Local Chamber of Commerce, listened carefully to the news. Returning to her conversation, she quickly made her excuses and began a slow circumnavigation of the party, finally bringing herself into the group next to the one with whom Charley was conversing. She positioned herself in front of Charley and signalled with her eyes. Five minutes later, the pair were upstairs. It turned out that Scarlett was the new partner of Jeremy, Chairman of the Round Table. Charley did not know her; in fact, she had only met her for the first time that evening. Returning to the party, she casually made her way towards Jeremy and began an easy conversation with him. It wasn’t long before Scarlett returned to his side, uncomfortable that the glorious Charley seemed to be monopolising his attention. Inwardly despising herself for her hypocrisy, Charley turned her attention to the badly dressed woman and complimented her on her suit. Flattered, Scarlett opened up and it wasn’t long before Charley had the woman eating out of her hand. Within a short time, she had memorised the names of Scarlett’s brother and his company.

Fresna and Bex had deliberately spent a considerable amount of their time talking to Charley’s neighbours. Eventually the subject of noise was raised and neither woman was surprised to discover how the other families in the cul-de-sac felt about the gooneys next door. In fact, it proved very valuable to hear, not only what they had heard, but more significantly, what they had observed.

Thank god for nosy neighbours.

From the point of view of the guests, the evening had been a great success, but Charley felt frustrated. She had not been able to expose her upmarket visitors to the intolerable abuses of her next door neighbours and the only information she had gleaned was the possibility that the house next door might be rented rather than owned. There might be some mileage in that, but Charley doubted it would be very much.

However, she had underestimated the eavesdropping abilities of her friends. Over hot chocolate in the lounge, after the last of the guests had left, she was less than fascinated to learn from Sly that the man of the house next door apparently worked as a window cleaner and had a round a few villages away. He couldn’t be sure, but one of the ladies present was fairly certain that the white van on the shared driveway was often seen in her neighbourhood. Charley was unsure how she might put that information to use, but there was more to follow. Hot on the heels of that little nugget came the interesting news from Fresna that ‘our man’ had also been spotted by several disgusted neighbours signing on at the Job Centre. Charley’s frustration melted like ice cream on a hot hob. She had just been handed enough information to take things to the next stage. It seemed that Mr DG was doing a spot of moonlighting. The Whiskerlies agreed to meet after Tuesday’s class to discuss how to use what they now knew to its best advantage. Whatever they decided, a little research and a spot of stalking would definitely be on the agenda. Fresna rubbed her hands with glee and volunteered immediately. She was getting to enjoy all the sneaking around.

Dressed all in black and with heavy eye makeup and darkened lips, for the second time in a week, Izza found herself trying to lean casually against a set of railings surrounding a boringly functional building while she waited for a signal Celia sitting, with a book on her lap, across the road on a park bench. Parked directly across the road from Izza, and with her driver’s window down, Fresna was listening to Radio Two while she waited impatiently for the phone call from Charley that would let her know that her neighbour had left the house. Last week, it hadn’t happened and Fresna had spent a tedious two hours waiting for an action that had failed to materialise. The plan had finally been aborted and the team were now back in place. Fresna very much hoped that their prey would show up. She tapped her fingertips against the steering wheel in irritation. If he didn’t show this time, she might very well decide to pay an unscheduled visit on Mr. Fuckwit himself to tell him to get his finger out and stop wasting her valuable time.

Fresna’s mobile buzzed, signalling that the show was on the road. Fresna opened the driver’s door and exited her car, removing the equipment she needed from the boot before locking her car and moving to a spot in the small park area almost opposite the Job Centre. She chose the shade of a small willow tree and began to assemble her kit. For Izza and Celia watching from across the road, her actions indicated green for go.

Within ten minutes, Izza spotted him in the distance striding towards her. She straightened up and moved to the top of the Job Centre steps and sat down just in time to watch Celia walk into the building itself. As her prey reached the top of the steps, Izza asked him if he could spare the price of a meal. He ignored her and tried to move past, but she grabbed hold of his leg and began to plead. Turning back, he tried to shake her off, but she began to crawl up his leg in a seemingly shaky effort to stand up, asking instead for the blag of a cigarette. He refused her and roughly shook her off, swearing about young people these days, and entered the building not long after Celia.

Izza got up and bounced lightly down the steps to the pavement below and left the scene. Her job was done and, from the look on the face of Fresna, as she crossed in front of her, she could tell she had done a good enough job. Hopefully, Celia would finish what she had started and that Fresna had got what she needed.

Whilst Izza was acting her butt off at the Job Centre, Charley was sitting in the offices of Michael Gates, Property Developer, talking to its very attractive owner. Charley rarely felt non-plussed, but the man in front of her was exactly her type – broad, dark, suited and booted. His eyes were amazing; the same deep blue as her lupins, she realised. Mentally pulling herself together, she sat up straighter in her chair and opened what, after all, was supposed to be a business meeting. She had brought with her a signed copy of the petition she had previously secured from all the residents in the cul-de-sac, together with several letters alleging a series of noise offences against the occupants of No. 10. Accepting coffee from Michael’s beautifully manicured hands, Charley felt a flush of heat run through her and settle deep in her hips. She paused, briefly allowing herself to imagine how those elegant hands might feel caressing her bare skin. It was rare for a man to have such an effect on her; it was usually the other way round. Disturbed, she cleared her throat to give herself a few seconds to pull herself back to the job in hand. Succinctly, she gave a potted history of the lows and even lowers of living next door to his very self-centred tenants. She cited examples of their total disregard and lack of respect for others in the area. She understood, she told him, that children made noise but, what with the wife screaming at her offspring from the patio doors, the dogs barking at all hours and the regular DIY, she felt she had come to her wit’s end. Whilst Michael was sympathetic, he remained objective, possibly even a little unconcerned. Nevertheless, he was intrigued to hear about the handiwork going on in the house, especially as there were strict rules about what could and could not be done to the inside of one of his properties. He remarked that, whilst he personally had no problem with pets, he was surprised to learn that the household had a lot more animals than had been agreed pre-contract. Michael promised Charley that he would investigate the matter and do what he could to monitor the noise levels. Politely, he told her he would be in touch as soon as he had any news. Standing, he indicated that the meeting was over and gently led her towards the door. Charley was not going to be dismissed so easily. Before she left, she invited the property magnate to her home to give him a chance to witness the abuse first hand. Charley was disappointed with his response. Whilst Michael did not refuse her offer, he did not exactly bite her hand off either but, as Charley later admitted to herself, he was a very busy man.