by Tara Ford
Binoculars. She had to find them. Purely to find out why the odd couple should meet, way across the fields, deep in the woodland.
Racing down the stairs, she reached the cupboard under the staircase and wrenched the door open. Her heart pounded as she climbed into the cupboard and began frantically searching through the numerous boxes of items still waiting to be unpacked. She had an idea where the binoculars were and typically, they were right at the back, at the lowest point of the cupboard.
The loud peal of the doorbell startled her and she froze momentarily. Who could it be? Georgie? Alvin? Georgie and Alvin? Had she been caught out?
She had just spotted the binoculars, at long last, at the bottom of her ‘Memorabilia’ box. But they could stay there for the moment. Hidden away. Just in case.
Dragging herself back out of the cupboard, she stood up and brushed the dust and dirt from her legs. She could see a figure, clothed in a fluorescent orange sleeveless waistcoat, waiting at the door. The bell pealed out again. Rushing to the front door, she yanked it open.
PARCEL*FORCE. A tall, bearded man with an impatient expression leant on the doorframe. “Can you take this for number six?
Tiff stared mindlessly. “Sorry?”
“Number six, love. Can you take it in?”
Tiff peered at the huge parcel standing next to the man.
“What? That?”
“I can lift it in for you.”
“Yes, of course.” Tiff had come to her senses. “Err… sorry – busy working – not thinking straight. Please, just put it there.”
The man lifted the enormous, tall box into the hallway and shuffled it to one side, resting it against the wall. “What’s your name?”
“Err… Tiff… sorry no, it’s Cuthbert.”
The man nonchalantly typed the name into his electronic signature gadget and passed it over, with an attached stylus. “Sign there,” he said, pointing to a box on the screen.
Returning the gadget and stylus, Tiff smiled at him. “There you go.”
“Cheers,” said the man and left without a reciprocating smile.
The box was almost as tall as Tiff. She stared at it puzzled. Number six – that was Lilly, on the corner. She wondered for a moment what could be in such a big parcel. There was no way she would be able to carry it along to Lilly’s house. It would have to wait until Joe came home.
Back to the binoculars.
Tiff crawled back into the cupboard and retrieved the dusty binoculars from her memory box. Dusting them off, she placed them outside the cupboard and carefully moved everything else back into place. The contents of the cupboard appeared untouched. Grabbing the binoculars, she raced back up the stairs to her craft room. She sat at the table, wiped the lenses on her t-shirt and then positioned herself between the boxes on the table. Twisting the focus wheel, she held the binoculars in a fixed position, pointing towards the trees in the far distance, near the river.
She gasped. She held her breath.
Snatching the binoculars away from her face, her heart pounded in her chest. She’d had such a clear view, way over the fields, towards the river, in amongst the copse. So unobstructed that she momentarily felt like she was actually there. Peering back through the eyepiece, she held her breath again. This intrusive act felt wrong. Could they see her as well as she could see them? Of course they couldn’t.
Alvin was carrying the small rucksack by his side. He nonchalantly swung the bag as he walked away from the clump of trees. Georgie’s dog was further away, by the riverside. Sniffing along the bank of the river, the dog looked disinterested in his owner – Georgie, there she was. Propped up against a tree, she was pulling white underwear up her slim legs. She had one shoe on and the other one lay on the ground beside her.
Oh my God, Tiff breathed out.
A thick red collar was wrapped around her neck. Tiff turned the focus wheel again. A dog’s collar. The dog collar that Alvin had bought in town, last week. Georgie was wearing it.
Patting her dress down, Georgie clutched at the collar, trying to undo it in a violent, angry way. She managed to pull it free and tossed it to the ground. Then she turned her head towards Alvin who was now further away from her. She glared at him disdainfully.
Tiff let out a puff of air and realised she’d been holding her breath again.
Georgie continued to scowl in Alvin’s direction. She hated him. Tiff could see it etched, painfully on her face. So why was she allowing him to do these things to her? What hold did he have over her? Suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of compassion for Georgie, engulfed her. She knew what had just happened, even though she hadn’t actually witnessed the event. She was relieved that she hadn’t seen it. As Georgie moved around the tree and called out to her dog, Tiff slowly removed the binoculars from her eyes and placed them on the table.
Emptiness filled Tiff’s whole being. What was really going on with those two? Had she completely misjudged Georgie? Or was Georgie simply an unrestricted temptress? Tiff had to find out. She was possibly the only person who knew what was going on. How could she share this with anyone? But, then again, what if Georgie wasn’t a slut? What if she had witnessed a rape, that night in the garden and just missed another one now. It couldn’t be rape – Georgie was allowing him to do it. Tiff gulped back the queasy feeling rising from her stomach. She had to talk to Georgie, somehow, without appearing to be some voyeuristic crazy woman herself.
Placing the binoculars at the very back of a drawer, Tiff covered them over with a piece of fabric from her spare materials box and closed the drawer quickly. Why did she have to be so curious? If she hadn’t seen Georgie in her garden sunbathing, weeks ago, she wouldn’t have become overly obsessed with the view from her window. She wouldn’t know about any of the goings-on out in the fields or indeed, in Georgie’s back garden. She wouldn’t have known anything. She wished she knew nothing.
The plans to sort out the craft room boxes had faded away and completely disappeared into a bout of anxiety. Tiff had to get out of the house. Get away from Sycamore Close. Or was it Sick-amour Close? The garden centre was where she wanted to be right now. Strolling around the outdoor aisles, in the sunshine, without a care or thought of anything else but pretty, colourful flowers.
Ten plants later, Tiff had consciously removed herself from the images of earlier and had a spring in her step as she carried the tray of bedding plants across the green. She’d been away from home longer than expected but the quaint little café, located inside the garden centre, had ‘called’ her on two occasions while she shopped in the warm sun. There had been so much to see around the garden centre and it had been very thirsty work. She liked looking at the ponds and the wide variety of fish for sale. Koi, goldfish, tropical fish and marine. It was time-consuming to see them all but it had to be done and it had been the best medicine to rid her of her anxiety and the horrible images tainting her mind.
Joe was home already. Tiff had noticed his car in the lay-by when she’d arrived back. Luckily, he wasn’t propped up against the front door, nonchalantly chatting to Georgie. Tiff placed the tray of plants to one side, underneath the bench on the left and then pulled at the front door handle. Unlocked – he was in – and not round at Georgie’s doing, God only knows what. No sign of Georgie in her house either. That could only be a good thing.
“Joe,” Tiff called up the stairs. “I’m home.”
Silence.
An image ran through Tiff’s mind. Joe. Georgie. Upstairs. In bed. She shook her head and tutted to herself. It had to stop. Her imagination would be the destructive source in their relationship if she continued. “Joe – I’m home.
Still and quiet.
Placing a foot on the first step, she tentatively lifted herself up. “Joe?” Another step up. “Joe – are you in?”
Nothing.
Steadily rising up the staircase, she listened for any movement, the slightest of noises. Alert senses pricked through her body. Was he in her craft room, ogling the ‘view’?
Unusually, their bedroom door was closed. Why? Reaching the top, she halted. What would she see behind the bedroom door? Two figures, under the duvet, frozen with fear? Caught out?
Bang!
The sound of the front door closing made her jump in fright.
“What are you doing standing up there?”
Tiff turned to see Joe at the bottom of the stairs, beaming up at her.
“Oh God – you made me jump. I thought you were upstairs.” She turned around and went back down.
Joe laughed. “Did you think I was hiding upstairs?”
“Something like that. Where were you?”
“Just taken that bloody great big box to Lilly’s.”
“Oh…” Tiff reached the bottom of the stairs and kissed his cheek. “I didn’t even notice it had gone.” She giggled nervously.
“Yeah – she was so excited.” Joe shook his head despairingly. “She said she’s been in all day. Must have not heard her door. Do you know what’s in the box?”
“No.”
“It’s a whacking great big petrol hedge trimmer. Reckons she’s going to trim her hedges tomorrow. It’s got to be two and a half metres long when fully extended.”
“Oh gosh – she can’t do that on her own. Did you offer to do it for her?”
Joe shook his head. “No – well I’m out tomorrow, aren’t I? Golf in the morning. Surely she won’t really do it herself. I thought Wayne was going to do it anyway.”
“Well, let’s hope so. She’s a stubborn woman though. I dread to think what might happen if she tries to use it herself.”
“Yeah – me too. She probably hasn’t got any petrol for it anyway.”
“Petrol? I do hope not. Let Wayne know in the morning.”
“I will babe – or I suppose I’ll have to do it myself tomorrow afternoon.”
“That would be nice… and while you’re at it… I was thinking…”
“Yeah?” Joe ambled out to the kitchen, turning his head once or twice to make sure that she was following him.
“About that fence panel.”
Reaching the kitchen, Joe turned around. A worried expression had crept over his face. “What about it?”
“Well… I was thinking that I could make a thank-you card for Georgie, if you wanted to pick it up over the weekend.” Tiff smiled weakly. “You said she didn’t want any money for it so…. I thought maybe I could make a card and get her some flowers or chocolates… or something. We don’t want her dog getting in again, do we?”
“Sure,” Joe replied, indifferently. “If that’s what you want.”
“Well we do need it don’t we?” Tiff sensed the awkwardness in Joe’s voice since the subject of Georgie had come up.
“Yes, we do. I could get it sorted on Sunday, if the weather’s OK.”
“Do it then,” said Tiff, forcefully. “Text her or pop round there and ask if we could have it on Sunday.”
Joe nodded his head like an obedient schoolchild before turning around to flick the kettle on.
“So, which will you do?” Tiff stood behind him, tapping her fingers on the worktop impatiently.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you going to text her or go round there?”
“You could do it if you want to babe.”
“No – I don’t want to. She hates me.”
Joe sighed as he pulled two mugs from the cupboard above his head. “She doesn’t hate you, babe. It’s all in your imagination.”
“There you go again, talking like you know her so well.”
“Oh please… babe… let’s not get into this again.”
“We’re not – I’m not. I just think it will be better if you go or text her. I haven’t got her number anyway. And she did offer the fence to you.”
“OK, I’ll go round tomorrow afternoon.”
“You could just text her if you want to – you’ve got her number haven’t you?”
“Err… no… I haven’t. Didn’t we throw it away?”
“No, you put it in the drawer over there.” Tiff pointed to a top drawer on the other side of the kitchen.
“Oh OK, I’ll…” Joe fumbled with a spoon, attempting to scoop up the last granules of coffee from the jar. “I’ll… err… knock her door tomorrow.”
“OK – fair enough.” Tiff tried to sound upbeat. “How about I pick up some flowers and chocolates and make that card, ready for Sunday.”
“Yeah, good.”
Chapter 18
Tiff was still in bed when Joe left, early the next morning. She had pretended to still be asleep as she listened to him tip-toeing around the room, finding clothes to wear. Again there had been an air of discomfort last night and it was plainly obvious how both herself and Joe had tried to keep the atmosphere harmonious and the subjects of conversation as far away as possible from the topic of neighbours. They had gone to bed together but both had excused themselves from any amorous activities by mentioning how tired they were, or in Tiff’s case, the addition of a thumping headache.
She waited to hear the front door close then she leapt out of bed and peeped through the curtains to see Joe walking down to Wayne’s house.
Pulling her dressing gown around her, Tiff wandered through to her craft room and peered between the boxes still piled up on the table, out to the view beyond. A mist lingered along the length of the river in the distance and rose up to the treetops, creating a pretty, early morning picture of calmness and mystery. Curiously, she opened the drawer next to her and reached in for the binoculars. No, she muttered to herself, you have to stop this Tiffany Cuthbert. Closing the drawer again, she left the room and shut the door behind her. Today was not going to be all about Georgie and her antics, or Alvin, for that matter. Today was going to be her day for planting her new plants in the front garden and then taking a long, relaxing soak, ready for their evening out with Hayley and Wayne.
Two plants in the ground and the day was already warming up considerably. Tiff hadn’t seen anyone on the close, although it was approaching eleven o’clock. She hadn’t seen Georgie go out for her morning jolly around the back fields with her dog and she hadn’t caught a glimpse of Alvin’s pants prancing about either. All was quiet in Sick-amour Close. Tiff giggled under her breath as she thought about her new name for the close. If only she could share it with Joe. It would be so funny. But she couldn’t. He would want to know why she had renamed it and that was one question she would not be able to answer. Or even want to. She was in too deep now. She’d seen far too much. She didn’t want to tell a soul.
The bedding plants were adding some much needed colour to the front garden and Tiff was thoroughly entertained by digging out little holes to place the plants in and then marking out where the next one should go…
A loud grating, whirring sound interrupted Tiff’s meandering thoughts. Looking up from the soil, she could tell where the irritating noise was coming from. It stopped. It started again. She stood up, brushed her knees off and walked down to her gate. Lilly Watson. Peering across to Lilly’s front garden, she could just see the tip of a huge hedge trimmer waving around carelessly. Oh my God, she mumbled under her breath as she opened the gate and briskly walked towards Lilly’s house.
“Lilly.” Tiff halted at her gate. “Lilly – stop!” she shouted over the rasping reverberations of the gigantic double-edged blade, swinging about in the air recklessly.
Lilly was desperately gripping the powerful machine as it pulled her along the length of the hedge. Upon hearing Tiff’s scream, she turned awkwardly and stumbled, before swinging the extended end of the blade across the garden towards Tiff and almost falling over.
“Lilly – please – stop! Turn it off!” Tiff jumped backwards, away from the gate, fearing that her head might be removed in one swoop of the blade. “Turn if off!”
The frightening sound stopped suddenly. Lilly lowered the machine to the ground and heaved a sigh. “It’s too heavy dearie,” she panted. “Can you help me?”
“Lil
ly… step away from it, please.” Tiff tentatively opened the gate and walked in. “I couldn’t do that,” she said, pointing to the long trimmer, lying on the grass. “I thought you were going to wait for Wayne or Joe to do it. That is so dangerous Lilly. You can’t do it yourself and I’d be terrified of using a thing of that size – it’s much bigger than either of us.”
Lilly peered down at the machine and tapped it with her foot. “Thought I’d give it a little go.”
“No, please. It’s far too dangerous.”
“Where are the men then? There’s no bugger around when you need them.”
“Wayne and Joe are out playing golf. They’ll be back this afternoon. Maybe one of them could do it for you then.”
Lilly huffed and bent down to pick the trimmer up again.
“What are you doing?” Tiff’s heart shot up to her throat. “Lilly – please don’t turn it back on.”
“I’m not dearie. Like I said, it’s too heavy and far too powerful for me.” She dragged the machine across the grass and pushed it under the hedge. “At least I gave it a go though. Do you think one of the boys would do it?”
“Yes, I’m sure they will.” Tiff thought for a moment. “But if they are too tired this afternoon, after their golf day, I know that Joe will come over and do it for you tomorrow, for certain. How does that sound?”
“Oh, I suppose another day can’t hurt, can it dearie?”
Tiff shook her head, relieved. “Now, you promise that you won’t try to start it up again?”
“Hmm…”
“Lilly, I can’t leave until I know that you will be safe. Please just leave it there and I’ll get Joe to pop round later today. That way he can let you know when he can do it. How does that sound?”
Lilly nodded her head, resignedly. “I suppose so.”
“OK. Anyway, it’s nice to see you again.” Tiff smiled warmly. “I’m just putting some plants in my front garden. Good job I was too.” She giggled. “Otherwise we could have had you being dragged around the entire close by a giant hedge trimmer. I dread to think about it.”
