Calling All Neighbours (Calling All... Book 4)

by Tara Ford

  “OK, only if you’re sure.” Joe pulled her closer to him and rested an arm round her shoulders. “Love you Miss Cuthbert.”

  “Love you too, Mr Frey. I’m sorry for being such a paranoid freak. And yes, I’m sure.”

  “You are an attractive paranoid freak though.” Joe laughed and kissed the top of her head before finishing the drink that was in his hand.

  Chapter 15

  They were arriving at ten and although both Tiff and Joe had cleaned the house last night, from top to bottom, back to front and inside and out, Tiff was still running around looking for something that they may have missed. She didn’t know why she was always so anxious as Joe’s parents, Alex and Grant, were lovely people. They were kind, helpful and generous too. They had been so eager to help financially when it came to buying the house in Sycamore Close. Joe had refused to accept any money from them and said that they should keep their money for themselves. ‘Take a well-deserved holiday Mum’, Tiff had heard him saying one day. ‘We will manage – and if we can’t – then maybe I’ll come calling.’ Joe wanted to prove that he could do this on his own, with Tiff’s help, of course. He was incredibly independent, if not a little stubborn too. ‘Save it for the grandkids, Mum.’ His last statement had sent a little flutter through Tiff’s stomach – kids – there weren’t any grandkids on this side of the channel, as of yet, so maybe Joe hoped that he would have his own children one day. Tiff hoped even more, that this was true.

  “Babe – the house is spotless. Will you stop stressing and calm down? They’re not coming to do a dust inspection.”

  “I know,” she replied, resignedly. “I just want it to look as nice as it can for them.”

  “It does – they’ll love it. They won’t be expecting a pristine mansion.”

  “OK, I’ll try to relax.”

  Joe’s mobile phone pinged, indicating a text message. Pulling it from his pocket, he peered at the screen.

  “Is that them?”

  “Err… no,” said Joe, shoving the phone back in his pocket quickly. “It was… Wayne… yeah, Wayne. Wants to play golf again… next week.”

  “Oh, OK. Aren’t you going to reply?”

  “No, I’ll… err, do it later. Come on, let’s check the garden is tidy.”

  “Thought you said you didn’t have his number.”

  “No, I didn’t. Got it the other day… bumped into him.”

  “OK,” Tiff replied, just a little skeptically.

  Why had she got herself so het up about Alex and Grant coming? They loved the house.

  “It’s bigger than it looked in the pictures,” said Alex, taking a seat at the dining table. “And I love your little craft room – you’ve done it out beautifully. And the view is amazing. Are you happy with it all so far?”

  “Oh yes,” Tiff replied, joining Alex at the table, “and we have so many plans to change the place to how we want it.” Peering out of the patio doors, Tiff could see Joe with his dad, at the bottom of the garden. They were looking across the fields whilst chatting and pointing to different things in the distance. An image of Alvin Snodgrass, in his gold speedos, flashed through Tiff’s mind.

  “What about the neighbours? Have you met any of them yet? Joe said they’re weird – but then Joe would say that.”

  “Yes, err… we’ve met most of them actually. We went to a barbecue at number eight a couple of weeks ago. There are some very nice people on the close. They’re not all weird.” Tiff smiled awkwardly.

  “Ah, that’s good,” said Alex. “So who have you got on either side?” She waved a pointed finger from left to right.

  “We’ve got a woman of about 30 on that side,” said Tiff, pointing a thumb behind her. “She’s got a little girl… well sometimes. It’s a long story, and Cyril and Betty live that way.” Tiff nodded her head towards the dining room wall in front of her. “They are an elderly couple – very nice people – they made us a cake after we moved in.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Yes – and you should see their house inside – it’s like stepping back in time to 1950’s America.”

  “Really?” Alex looked genuinely interested. “So I’m guessing it’s very retro, pastel pinks and blues?”

  “Oh yes, and dear old Betty even dresses like she’s just stepped out of the fifties.”

  “That’s so cute.”

  Tiff nodded agreeably. “Yes, we were stunned when we saw inside the house. Her husband is not so keen on it all but then he keeps himself busy in the garden with his lovebirds.”

  “Lovebirds?”

  “I think that’s what they are, yes. Like little parrot type birds – apparently.”

  “Ooh, it does sound like you have some interesting neighbours.”

  Tiff giggled slightly. “Oh yes, and some are much more interesting than others.”

  “Oh?” Alex’s eyes widened. “Tell me more – I do like to be nosey. Why does the woman that way…” Alex indicated to the left side, “have a daughter sometimes?”

  “Don’t think she has custody of her daughter – only visiting rights.”

  “Oh, I see. That’s difficult.”

  “Hmm… anyway, we also have a secret agent living at number nine – last house on the right, as you stand facing the close.”

  “A secret agent? How do you know that?” Alex sat up straight and leant forward eagerly.

  “Well, he’s some kind of secret agent type person. Not sure exactly. But apparently he does all kinds of top secret stuff. He told us.”

  “Well…” said Alex, “that is super cool. So you have your own James Bond living on the close?”

  “He’s no James Bond, I can assure you of that.” Tiff shuddered and then smirked. “He gives me the creeps actually. He’s a bit of a weirdo.”

  “Oh, why?”

  “When he’s home, which isn’t very often as he gets sent out on all these special missions, so he tells us. Anyway, when he’s home, he goes out jogging a lot.”

  “And? I feel there’s more to this.” Alex let out a short burst of laughter. “Jogging’s not weird.”

  Tiff giggled into her cup of coffee. She was actually enjoying telling Alex all about the neighbours. She was relaxed and may as well have been sat with a friend, drinking coffee and giggling about things. “No, it’s not – on its own.” She giggled again. “It’s just that he wears these awful gold coloured speedo shorts when he’s doing it.”

  “Really? Is he a bit of a hunk?” Alex grinned cheekily.

  “No way. Far from it. He looks like Dracula. He’s tall and skinny, with a ghostly white face, a scar on his chin, a pointed nose and jet-black hair swept across the top of his head. He’s so false.”

  Alex screwed her nose up. “Doesn’t sound great.”

  “No – exactly. And he always has a pair of binoculars with him when he goes out jogging.”

  “OK,” said Alex, stifling a giggle. “I shouldn’t be judgemental but why would you take binoculars out with you when going for a run? I can see why you think he’s weird.”

  “Who’s weird?” Joe and his dad had just walked back into the dining room.

  Tiff looked up and smiled. “Just telling your mum about Alvin.”

  Joe rolled his eyes and tutted. “Our freak in red speedos?”

  “Gold,” shot Alex.

  “Forgot to tell you Joe,” Tiff added, “I saw him in gold pants a couple of weeks ago – out the back – looked worse than the red ones.”

  Joe turned to his dad. “Haven’t told you Dad – we’ve got our own top secret spy lives down the end of the close.”

  Grant looked puzzled. “A spy?”

  “Yeah.” Joe glanced at Tiff and grinned. “Her Majesty’s secret service – he works on some sort of governmental assignments. It’s all very hush hush.”

  “Thought that kind of stuff was only in the films. And you’re telling me he wears gold speedos? I think you’re having me on.”

  “Not to go to work in, Grant.” Alex tutte
d and shook her head. “When he’s out jogging.”

  “So he works for the secret service as a jogger – in gold pants?”

  A resounding ‘No’ shot around the room and everyone, except Grant, laughed heartily.

  “OK – take it I’ve missed something here,” said Grant, peering around the room puzzled.

  “Don’t you always,” spluttered Alex, “I’m sure Joe will fill you in.”

  Tea was a joint effort between Tiff, Joe and Alex. Grant had ended his tour of the house in front of the television and had told Joe that he needed to rest his eyes before tea as he had to drive all the way home again later on. Joe had joked that they lived barely twenty miles away and it was hardly an epic journey home but Grant insisted on some ‘shut-eye’ before the meal.

  “That was delicious,” said Alex, placing her knife and fork, neatly on the plate. “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.” Tiff smiled confidently. Somehow, today had been different. Her usual jangling nerves and awkwardness had been replaced by a warm, friendly and relaxed feeling. She assumed it may have had something to do with the fact that Joe’s parents were now on her own territory, therefore the roles had reversed and changed. It felt good whatever it was.

  “I’ll help you, wash-up,” said Alex, getting up from her seat and gathering the plates together.

  “There’s no need – I can do it later.”

  “No, I’ll do it now. That way, you and Joe can have a sit down this evening when we’re gone. Last thing you want to be doing on a Sunday evening is all the washing-up after the in-laws.”

  “That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” Tiff smiled with embarrassment as the word in-laws went through her mind several times.

  Joe and his dad remained at the table talking about future plans for the house and garden. Then they moved on to rugby, football and just about every other sport currently televised.

  Tiff and Alex washed and dried all of the saucepans, plates and cutlery, in relative silence. Just now and again they commented on something that either Joe or Grant were talking about.

  A harmonious blend of chatter and laughter filled Tiff’s kitchen/diner. She had enjoyed the day with Joe’s parents and had realised that she could be a good hostess, she could communicate well with them and she was good enough. If it turned out that Alex and Grant did become her in-laws in the future, that would be the royal icing on the top of a giant fruit cake.

  Joe and Tiff stood with an arm round each other as they waved goodbye to his parents. They had walked across the green and down to the lay-by together to say their farewells. It had been perfect timing. At the exact moment that they all left the house, Alvin Snodgrass had come out of his. Joe and Tiff had whispered, mumbled and signaled to the end of the close as Alvin arrived at his front gate. Barely dressed in his red speedos, a white vest and his binoculars, Alvin acknowledged the group and then began his stretching exercises out on the pathway. His overly exaggerated lunges were alarmingly unabashed and his skimpy red pants only just managed to contain their load. Yet he had no inhibitions to continue in front of Joe’s parents.

  Slowing their pace, Tiff and Joe could see that Alex and Grant were trying to hide the stunned looks on their faces. Politely, they all passed by Alvin, not daring to look too much as he began to stretch his hamstrings with one foot on the ground and the other placed on top of the garden fence. His shorts stretched at the seams and bulged dangerously around his crotch. It was an astonishingly hideous sight and not one to be reckoned with.

  “Has he gone?” whispered Tiff as Alex and Grant’s car disappeared down the road.

  Turning his head slightly to the left, Joe replied in a hushed voice, “No, still there.”

  “OK, let’s just wave at him politely and walk up the other side of the green. I can’t be bothered to talk to him. Can you?

  “Oh – God!” cried Tiff. “You… you made me jump.”

  “Evening.” Alvin was practically on top of them, he was standing so close. “Joe, dear chap, do you fancy a trot out this evening?”

  “Err… thanks – but no thanks.” Joe looked as shocked as Tiff felt. Alvin had been by his gate a millisecond ago. He must have leapt over the end of the green in one gigantic stride, the moment Joe had turned back around to Tiff.

  “Ah now, that is a shame. It’s a beautiful evening for filling your lungs with good fresh air and energizing yourself – ready for the week ahead.”

  Joe stared in silence.

  “Come on young man – you would enjoy it. Leave the lady to get on with her chores.” Alvin’s small beady eyes bore into Tiff’s. “Does he hinder the housework my sweet?”

  “No. Actually, he helps.” Tiff glared up at Alvin’s cadaverous face. “But we’ve done everything already.”

  “Good woman.” Alvin smirked conceitedly. “A good housekeeper has forethought and well planned out days.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Allowing room for your man to have his ‘man-time’.” Alvin continued to stare fixedly at Tiff.

  Joe let out an awkward laugh. “I’ll be having my man-time when I watch the rugby. Thanks all the same Alvin.”

  “Another time young Joe. Another time, for sure.”

  Joe nodded his head. “Yes, maybe another time Alvin. Thanks.”

  “And get this poor young girl some rubber gloves.” Eyeing Tiff’s hands, which were clenched together tightly, Alvin continued, “Dry, dishwashing hands are not appealing on a woman of any age.”

  Alvin turned on his heels and trotted off along the main road, leaving Joe and Tiff standing by the lay-by, utterly speechless.

  “What a completely chauvinistic freak he is,” said Tiff, managing to gather her words together as she walked back to the house with Joe.

  Joe tittered. “I’ll get you some hand cream tomorrow.”

  “Don’t you dare.” She slapped him on the back as they entered the house. “How dare he make judgements like that. A housekeeper? Dishwashing hands? How dare he?”

  “Alright, babe, calm down.”

  “Well – I can’t believe his nerve. He makes me feel sick.”

  “Aren’t you taking all this to heart a bit too much? Ignore him – he’s just a sad and lonely middle-aged man who can’t get his kicks any other way.”

  “Huh,” huffed Tiff. “That’s a joke, he…” Snapping her mouth closed, she collected her thoughts and realised that she had nearly told Joe about what she’d seen over the last couple of weeks. “He… he’s supposed to be this big secret agent isn’t he? Surely he gets plenty of ‘kicks’ from that?”

  “I can imagine that it’s a pretty miserable and lonely existence.”

  “Well, I don’t care what it is. He’s not going to keep on talking to me in that condescending way – I won’t have it.”

  Joe turned his mouth down. “Come on babe, forget about him and don’t worry, I have no plans to watch any rugby tonight, let’s watch a film instead.”

  Tiff nodded and smiled. “OK – oh, and while we’re talking of plans – did you text Wayne back?”

  “Wayne?”

  “Yes, Wayne. Did you text him back?”

  “What for?” Joe looked puzzled.

  “Golf? He texted you this morning. Remember?”

  Joe’s eyes widened. “Err... oh yes… thanks… for reminding me.”

  “Which day does he want to play?” Tiff picked up the television remote control and flicked through to the film channel.

  “Err… can’t remember. I’ll sort it out… tomorrow. Come on – let’s snuggle up and watch a good film.”

  Chapter 16

  Hmm… As Tiff reflected on the weekend and Joe’s parents visiting, she mindlessly applied a layer of brown scumble to an ornamental rabbit. Sitting in the warmth of the studio, scumbling, brushing and then buffing one tray of rabbits after another, she had subconsciously left the vast work space and the gossipy chatter around her and drifted off into her own world. Hmm… There was something that bothered h
er about the weekend, something she couldn’t quite get a grasp of, something to do with Joe. Replaying the events of yesterday in her head, she watched carefully as her mind’s eye traced through the day, with Alex and Grant, the farewells and the unexpected meeting with Alvin. And then their return home to snuggle up on the sofa and watch an old film… and bedtime… and the amazing sex.

  So what was it that was eating at her? What had bothered her – if only for a fleeting moment that it hadn’t managed to embed in her mind?

  “Hey – Tiffy.”

  A woman’s voice smashed through Tiff’s deepest, most intimate thoughts as she was reliving the sex she had enjoyed last night.

  “Tiffy – come back to planet earth.”

  Looking up from the Wordsworth rabbit, she held in her hand, Tiff grinned. “Sorry Pat, I was miles away.”

  “Sharon’s getting coffees – do you want one?”

  “Yes please.” Tiff nodded her head and dipped the rabbit into the pot of scumble. Then she placed the dripping stoneware onto a drip-tray, along with thirteen others which had been dripping for a minute or so.

  “You’re quiet today.” Pat moved closer to Tiff’s table. “Everything dandy with the new house? Is Joe OK?”

  “Yes, yes thanks. Everything’s going well – we had Joe’s parents over for the day yesterday – I’m just a bit tired today.”

  “Ooh – I bet that stressed you out, Tiffy.”

  Tiff shrugged off a laugh. “No, it was OK. They are very nice. We had a lovely day.”

  “Jolly beans,” said Pat before wandering off to do her usual inspection around the tables, checking for any paint misses, sloppy jobs or untidy work areas.

  As the supervisor of the scumble and shading department, Pat liked nothing more than to listen to other people’s gossip and offer her worthless opinions about any subject matter going. She’d been with the company for over forty years and everyone had tried to guess her age on several occasions but dear old Pat wouldn’t give in to the guesses and questions. She was well past retirement age, that was for sure. Every day she wore the same grey overall, smeared with ancient scumble from days gone by, the same brown trousers and the same white shirt. She had assured everyone that she had several sets of the same clothing and didn’t believe in wearing anything else just to go to work. She often boasted about the number of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren she had and for those who had never met her before, the figures were quite astounding.