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

by Tara Ford

  The smell of paint soon disappeared as they became accustomed to it. Butterflies danced above their heads as they made love, for hours, among the pastel pink and purple blooms.

  The only thing he hadn’t done, yesterday, was empty the bins around the house. She wouldn’t expect him to do her craft bin and it wasn’t a problem that he hadn’t done the others either. She was completely enamoured of him, dazedly swoony, every time she thought about him. So emptying the bins really had no significance to the whole clean-up affair at all.

  Until…

  The snapped, beige coloured hairband sat at the bottom of the bathroom pedal-bin – broken blonde hairs wrapped around it. Hiding underneath a discarded empty toilet roll, the hairband was not meant to be seen.

  Tiff picked it out and examined it as the familiar surge of sick hatred began to brew. Her knees buckled and she lowered herself to the floor, gripping the hairband tightly in her palm. There was no mistaking this hairband. Georgie wore beige ones to tie her hair back into a ponytail or a messy bun. There was absolutely no mistaking it at all. Georgie had been in the house since last week’s ceremonial bin emptying, that was for sure. The worst part of it was – the woman must have been upstairs. She had to have been, otherwise, why would a hairband be in the bathroom bin? What had she been doing upstairs? In Tiff’s house. She struggled to breathe. Pinned to the bathroom floor with an overwhelming jealousy, she shuddered as tears welled and stung her eyes before they fell on to her cheeks. How could he? How could Joe do this? It was plainly obvious why Georgie would have been upstairs. How could he? In their bed? Was it before the new bedding went on? Or after? Maybe it was her who helped him yesterday and not Wayne. How could Joe be so false? How could he make love to her so meaningfully when he must have been sleeping with Georgie too? Did he love the woman? Did he love them both? Tiff sobbed harder, still rooted to the floor. What should she do now? There was no way out of this one for Joe, although, she desperately searched for feasible ways that he could talk his way out of it. For the first time in her life, Tiff wanted to be irrationally jealous, she wanted to be the envious, insecure, paranoid girlfriend… who was utterly wrong.

  Joe wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours. He’d left early, to play golf, with Wayne or so he’d told Tiff. Was he really playing golf? The doubting and suspicion had risen tenfold. Could she believe anything that he told her? Could they ever get over this latest piece of the jigsaw? It was all adding up and an affair with Georgie, would explain a lot of strange things, a lot of Joe’s odd behaviour. Yet, if he and Georgie were really together, did he have a split personality? He had played the doting, loving boyfriend very well, as far as Tiff was concerned. Did Georgie love him? How could she when she was also rollicking around in the woods with Alvin. Did Joe know about Georgie’s other affairs? Tiff doubted it. Maybe he should know. Maybe he wouldn’t want to be with her if he knew what she really got up to. Then Tiff could have him back and have him all to herself. Although it hurt considerably to think about it, she knew, deep in her heart that she would never want him back if he had been with her. It would be over, without a doubt.

  With a thumping head, tired, sore eyes and a broken heart, she pulled her weary self, up from the bathroom floor and trudged through to their newly decorated bedroom. The calming pinks and purples had a new feel about them. An unpleasant, morose feel. She climbed into bed and closed her eyes as saddened butterflies fluttered, half-heartedly, in circles, above her head. Round and round and round. Sleep was her only sanctuary. Her only means of escape from herself.

  The sound of the front door clicking open, woke Tiff from her restless sleep. She opened her heavy, puffy eyelids and strained to see as the brightness of the afternoon sun lit up the room even more than usual. Peering at the clock on the new bedside table, she noted the time, 2.30pm – she’d been asleep for a couple of hours.

  “Tiff?” Joe’s voice broke into her awakening memories of why she had eyes which felt bruised and puffy and why she had been asleep for some time. “Babe – I’m home.” His voice sounded cheery.

  She lay still, not daring to move, in case the torturous recollections she was having were real.

  Joe’s footsteps faded as he walked through the living room and into the dining room.

  The memories were real.

  Then the sound of his feet, pounding across the carpets, grew louder. He reached the bottom of the staircase. “Tiff? Are you up there, babe?”

  She held her breath. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t know how to tell him. She almost felt sorry for him because he had been found out.

  Joe bounded up the stairs. “Tiff? Are you OK?” he asked as he entered the bedroom.

  Peeping over the top of the quilt, she stared at him desperately. He was gorgeous. She loved him. Still. Tears bubbled up again and she blinked them away.

  “Babe, what’s the…”

  Pulling the quilt over her head, she began to sob. A hand touched her shoulder.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Her sobbing grew in strength and she trembled. His big hand gently smoothed her hair.

  “Tiff – talk to me – what’s happened?” Joe pulled the quilt back and attempted to scoop her up into his arms. “Babe, please, tell me what’s wrong.”

  She resisted his embrace and fell back on the pillow. Covering her face with her hands, she continued to cry, inconsolably. Reaching under the covers with one hand, she searched blindly for the hairband she had still been holding when she fell asleep. Found it. She drew it out from under the quilt and threw it into Joe’s face. He flinched and then peered down at his lap.

  “What’s this?”

  Drawing in a deep breath, she let it out slowly, trying to calm her shredded nerves.

  “Tiff – what is this?”

  Peeping between her fingers, she could see Joe holding the hairband up and examining it with a puzzled expression on his handsome face.

  “Tiff, talk to me please. I have no idea what this is.”

  She watched as he twiddled it around with his fingers and stretched the elastic cord. “Where’s this from? Is it yours?”

  “Haven’t got blonde hair.”

  “Babe, where did you get this?”

  “Bathroom.” Tiff lowered her hands as her face reddened with the heat of sobbing so much.

  “OK. Well, I have no idea how it got there.”

  “It’s… Georgie’s.” She sniffed and reached over to the bedside table for a tissue.

  “Georgie’s? Why have we got it then? I don’t understand what’s going on.” Joe’s cheery voice of earlier had turned to a wobbly, worried mutter.

  “Found it in the bin… in the bathroom.”

  Joe shot a startled look from the hairband to Tiff and back again, shaking his head from side to side. “I… I don’t know. Are you sure?”

  Tiff pulled herself up to a sitting position. “Sure? Sure of what? That I found it in the bin? Or that it’s Georgie’s?” Her grief was turning to sheer anger.

  “That it belongs to Georgie.” Joe met her eye and stared sorrowfully. “I…” he shook his head again and lowered his eyes. “God – I know how this must look babe.”

  “Don’t call me, babe. And yes, I’m pretty sure. After all, I don’t have long blonde hair and she wears those all the time – you must have noticed.”

  “So do a million other women I’d imagine. Tiff… please. Why do you think it’s a woman with long, blonde hair?”

  Tiff snorted disdainfully. “For a start, she’d hardly need to put her hair up if it were short, would she? And the hair is blonde – do you get it?”

  Joe nodded his head and reached a hand out towards hers.

  “I want an honest answer Joe. No more of this skirting around the issues.” She broke off and took a deep breath. “Are you seeing her?”

  Joe shook his head once more and met her eye. “I’m not seeing anyone babe. I promise you. I don’t know how that…“ He pointed to the hairband, “got in th
e bin. Maybe Wayne put it there. He might know something.”

  Tiff feigned a roar of laughter. “Wayne? Does he wear those? Wrong colour hair anyway.”

  “Maybe he found it.”

  “Found it – where?” Tiff’s anger had turned into cynical sarcasm. “Maybe here – in the bedroom?”

  “I don’t know, maybe he did – when we were laying the new carpet. I just don’t know.”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. That’s all you can answer to any of my questions. Why should I believe you?” Tiff snatched the hairband out of his hand and tossed it across the room. “That is just too much,” she said, pointing a trembling finger towards the hairband, lying on the floor. “All the little signs. The things I find. Your secretive behaviour. The dodgy text messages. They all point to one thing, Joe.” She paused and stared directly into his troubled eyes. “They point to you – having an affair – with her, next door.”

  Joe buried his face in his hands and sighed, loudly. He shook his head from side to side before lifting it again. “Tiff – it’s not true. This has got to end. I don’t know anything about that hairband – I promise you.”

  She gasped.

  “I’ll prove it…” He paused thoughtfully, “yes, I can prove it. Come out with me tonight and the first thing we’ll do is talk to Wayne and get this all cleared up.” Joe reached across for her hand again but she snatched it away.

  “I don’t feel like going out now…” She broke off. “But if I don’t go…” She glared hard at Joe’s face, “well, God knows what you’ll get up to and… and you’d get a chance to forewarn Wayne anyway. He probably knows exactly what you’re doing. I’m not stupid. He tried to cover up for you before – pretending that he’d sent you a message when he hadn’t.”

  Joe stood up purposefully, peered down at her with a stern face and drew a deep breath in. “Please come with me tonight. I will prove it somehow. I don’t want anyone else in my life – not Georgie – not anyone. I love you.” He held a hand up and motioned to the bedroom. “Why do you think I’ve done all this for you?”

  “Don’t see why you had to be so secretive about it.”

  “I wanted to surprise you – to make you happy. I wanted to spoil you. You have no idea…” He broke off and sat back on the bed. He took hold of her hand and held it with both of his. “You have no idea how much I love you. Please, let’s go tonight and you can ask Wayne anything you like. I won’t go anywhere near him until you’ve spoken to him… and here,” Joe pulled his phone from his pocket, “you can have this until we go, just so that I can’t forewarn him.”

  Tiff flung the phone back on to his lap. “I don’t want it. You keep it. You might get another one of those secretive text messages.” She paused in thought as she pulled her hand slowly away from his. She was confused. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to hate him. It was so hard because she wanted to believe him so much. What possible explanation could Wayne have for the hairband, if any? “OK, I’ll go, but I need answers if we are to continue our relationship. Someone put that hairband in our bin – and I know it wasn’t me.”

  Joe slumped on the edge of the bed. He looked relieved, tired and stressed. “OK, just give me this one last chance. Make sure you speak to Wayne tonight. I’m as confused as you are.”

  Chapter 29

  They’d hardly said two words to each other by the time Tiff was ready to go out. Wearing her new outfit, she sat at the dining table, drinking a glass of wine and planning what she would say to Wayne when she saw him. Because she was most definitely going to broach the subject. She had to. Too much had happened and been said between her and Joe, and things had to be sorted out one way or another. She was at the end of the line and by the way Joe’s wistful expression had lingered all afternoon, she knew that he could be too.

  She gulped nervously at her wine, while Joe was getting dressed upstairs. The alcohol was already having an effect, after just one glass. They’d had nothing to eat, as Joe had said there would be food before the charity disco started, so the wine was going straight to her head. She really didn’t fancy the idea of going out tonight, let alone go to some fund-raising disco. Having said that, she was quite astonished at how nice she looked in her new, figure-hugging, low-cut, red dress. So maybe she should go out and flaunt her look, just for the sake of it. Especially if Georgie was going to be there – dishing out hot dogs or burgers, with a conceited smirk on her face. She made a mental note to thank her work colleagues, who had been spot-on with their suggestions for the perfect outfit. Tiff’s long, brown hair twisted and tumbled down her back in wavy bands and she’d applied a little more eye make-up than usual, finishing her look off with a rich, red lipstick. She was dressed to kill – or thrill. Whichever came first.

  Draining her wine glass, she listened as Joe thudded down the stairs. He appeared in the doorway, tall, broad and looking exceptionally handsome in his new grey suit. He swivelled the knot of his tie and smiled.

  “Stand up,” he said, “Let me see.”

  Tiff rolled her eyes and pulled herself up from the chair.

  “Bloody hell – you look absolutely stunning babe.” He took three steps towards her and rested his hands on her tiny waist. “Do you still care about me enough to kiss me?”

  She turned her head away. “I’ve just put lipstick on.”

  “OK.” Taking a step back, he looked down at his suit. “Does this look all right? You know, especially if we’re going on to a casino later – got to dress right.”

  Tiff nodded nonchalantly. “Yeah – OK.” She picked her empty glass up from the table. “Think I might have another one of these before we go. What time are we going over to Hayley and Wayne’s?”

  “We’re meeting them there,” said Joe, opening a can of beer and taking a long gulp. “I’ve booked a taxi for us – didn’t think you’d want to walk there in those heels.”

  “Good,” Tiff forced a smile. “I wasn’t looking forward to walking there. Why have they left early, without us?”

  “Not really sure. I think Hayley had something to sort out on the way.”

  A sadness swept over Tiff as she thought about the difficult situation they were in. If Wayne didn’t come up with the right answer tonight, or she didn’t believe him, she would be back to the same scenario as this afternoon. Then, how would the hairband be explained? What would she do next?

  “Go easy on that wine, babe, we’ve got a long night ahead.” Joe smiled warmly. “I’m only having this one, for now. Thought I’d wind it up a gear later on.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she replied, sipping at a fresh glass. “I’ll slow down once we get there, although I feel like getting completely pissed actually.”

  “Why?”

  She gave Joe a lingering glare. “Why do you think?”

  “OK babe,” he said, putting his hands up. “Speak to Wayne – we’ll get this all sorted out.”

  “Oh, I will, most definitely.”

  Joe lifted his can of beer to his lips and gulped down the rest of the contents. “Aar…” he gasped as he crushed the can in his hand and then threw it in the bin.

  “You can hardly moan at me when you knocked that back so quick.”

  “I wasn’t moaning at you, babe, merely concerned. I know how you say wine goes to your head quickly. I just didn’t want you feeling ill later or tired.” He twitched a nervous smile. “I’m only having that one, for now. A bit of Dutch courage, I suppose.”

  “Why do you need Dutch courage? Am I going to hear something I don’t want to?”

  Joe tried to backtrack. “No… I didn’t mean Dutch courage, I meant… well, you know…”

  “No, I don’t know what you mean anymore.”

  “Babe – it was a figure of speech – and in hindsight, probably the wrong one. Yes, I do feel a bit on edge but that’s only because I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t need to worry about me. It’s you I’m worried about.” Tiff eyed him suspiciously.

 
; “Me? Why?”

  “We still haven’t sorted things out have we?”

  “We will babe – trust me. It will be sorted out. I’m sure Wayne must know something.”

  The short taxi ride to the community centre was in silence. Although Joe insisted that they hold hands in the car, no words were uttered between them. Joe was the only one who’d said anything and that was to the taxi driver.

  Walking into the reception area of the community centre, Tiff noted a beautiful arrangement of tulips (just like the ones she had at home, but much bigger and with the addition of twisty curls and spirals of glittery plastic), sat on a table.

  “That looks nice,” said Joe, as they walked past, hand in hand.

  Tiff was dumbfounded. He had never given a bunch of flowers a second glance, let alone comment on how nice they looked.

  It was strangely quiet in the reception area. Tiff had been expecting a couple of the older folk to be milling around the reception room, welcoming people to the charity do. Yet, there was no one around at all. Not even any partygoers.

  “Are you sure you’ve got the right night?” asked Tiff, in a whisper, as they paused outside the main hall door.

  “Think so. I’m sure Wayne said it was here.” Joe turned to her and let go of her hand. He peered into her eyes. “Babe,” he said, cupping his hands around her face. “I love you – please don’t ever forget it.” Then he kissed her softly on the lips.

  A rush of excitement hit her. She needed him to love her. She wanted to love him too. She did love him. It was just too hard to ignore the little things that were so wrong, so unmistakably telling. A tear welled in her eye.

  “Babe,” he whispered, “please don’t cry.” He kissed her lips again. “I love you so much. You’ve got to believe me.” He smiled and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Come on, let’s see if Wayne’s here.”