The New Neighbours

by Costeloe Diney

  Almost at once Anthony Hammond emerged from the dining room, and, coming across to her, held out his hand.

  “Good evening, Mrs Colby. I understand you wanted a word with me. How can I help?”

  Before Sheila could answer, Jill also appeared and said, “I’m making us some coffee, Mrs Colby. Would you like some?”

  “No, oh no, thank you. Not in the evening. It keeps me awake, you know.”

  Jill nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the door open behind her, curious to know what the Colby woman was after.

  Sheila turned back to Anthony Hammond. “I’ve come to see you, Mr Hammond in your capacity as chairman of the Residents’ Association.” She paused dramatically and Anthony said again, “I see. How can I help you?”

  “I’ve some news that affects the whole Circle,” Sheila went on. “Dreadful news, I think it is, and I want you to call a special meeting of the Association to see what action should be taken.”

  Again she paused and Anthony said patiently, “And what news is that, Mrs Colby?”

  “Ned Short has finally sold number seven,” she said, “and he’s sold it to be a student house.” She glanced up at Anthony to see if he had realised the enormity of what she was telling him. Not satisfied with his reaction, she continued, “You realise what this means, don’t you? There’ll be rowdy parties all the time, and comings and goings at all hours. The peace of the Circle will be shattered.”

  “Particularly yours,” remarked Anthony seriously, “as you’re in number six.”

  “Exactly!” cried Sheila, and then realising that made her motive sound more than a little selfish, she went on hurriedly, “But of course it isn’t just us, is it? I mean, apart from the Redwoods who will be affected in the same way as we are, the whole Circle will be affected in some way or the other.”

  “I see.” Anthony maintained his serious expression. “And what do you think the Association can do about it? Mr Short is entitled to sell his house to whomever he chooses, you know.”

  “I know that,” agreed Sheila, “but Gerald says there may be covenants preventing any of the houses in the Circle being used for multiple occupancies.”

  Anthony shrugged. “There isn’t any such covenant on mine,” he said. “Is there on yours?

  “No. I mean I’m not sure. There might be. Gerald doesn’t remember.” Sheila was flustered. Gerald had refused point-blank to go to the bank for the deeds stored in their safety deposit box. He said he was certain there was no such covenant, but as always Sheila drew on his name to lend authority to her own pronouncements.

  Anthony was not taken in by her pretended ignorance, he had had dealings with Sheila Colby before, so he said smoothly, “Well, I think we can be fairly sure there aren’t any attached to any other property in the Circle. All the houses were built at the same time, and I imagine they’d have been dealt within the same way.”

  Sheila recognised that she’d come to a dead end here and changed direction. “Anyway, we feel, Gerald and I, that a meeting should be called so that everyone can hear the news and we can decide a plan of campaign.”

  “Campaign?” Anthony repeated. “I’m sorry, but I don’t quite see what sort of campaign would be appropriate, Mrs Colby.”

  “Well, perhaps we could start with a very firm letter,” Sheila suggested, “Welcoming them to the Circle, warning them that we expect certain standards of behaviour here and that we won’t put up with drink and drugs and noise.”

  “That wouldn’t be very welcoming,” Anthony pointed out, “and it would probably be counter-productive. We don’t know what, if any, trouble they may cause, but we can’t just assume they’ll behave as you suggest.”

  “I think you’ll find they do,” Sheila said darkly. “Most students do.”

  “You’ve had a lot of dealings with students, have you, Mrs Colby?” asked Jill sweetly, as she carried the coffee tray into the room. Recognising the dangerous sweetness of tone, Anthony flashed a warning glance at his wife. He was going to have enough trouble dissuading Sheila from following her plan without having her antagonised by Jill. Jill caught his glance and gave him a “yeah, yeah, I know” look, and began to pour the coffee.

  “Here’s what I think we should do,” Anthony offered. “We should wait until these students have moved in and then perhaps have one of our Association social evenings. That way we can get to meet them and they can get to know us. The actual owner of the house will also be a member of the Association, so if necessary, and I mean only if there is a problem, we shall deal with him and he will deal with them. They, after all, are his tenants.”

  “Well I think they should know where they are right from the start,” Sheila said and rose to her feet. “I shall be visiting every house in the close to suggest holding a meeting. I believe if enough members ask for one, you have to call one.”

  “Certainly if there is general demand,” Anthony agreed, and Jill wondered how he could remain so unruffled. He stood up as well. “Thank you for coming to let us know the situation and for sharing your fears with us. I will certainly keep my ear to the ground and let you know if I hear any more myself. Let me show you down.” He stood aside at the top of the stairs and she preceded him down to the front door.

  “Dreadful woman!” Jill exploded as he came back. “Who does she think she is?”

  “She’s an old lady living in a peaceful backwater who’s suddenly discovered she is going to have to share it with the twenty-first century,” Anthony replied calmly, sinking into his armchair and picking up his coffee again.”

  “Oh Anthony, don’t be so reasonable,” snapped Jill, irritated.

  “Well you can’t have it both ways, darling.” Anthony still remained unruffled. “You’re upset with her because you think she’s being unreasonable, though I think you might find her less so if it were us attached to the student house, and now you don’t like me being reasonable.”

  “It’s just so stupid. I mean she’s going to go round to every house in the Circle and try to set people against these students before they’ve even arrived.”

  “I shouldn’t worry about it,” Anthony said. “We don’t know for sure there are going to be any students. It’s only a rumour, and I wouldn’t be at all sure Ned Short hadn’t started it just to wind her up. We’ll just have to wait and see.” He reached for the TV remote and switched on the evening news.

  Jill looked across at him, still angered—almost as much by his equanimity as by Sheila Colby’s prejudice. Her husband, Anthony, was only thirty-five and yet all of a sudden he seemed to be positively middle-aged. There were lines of tiredness about his eyes and mouth, and his hairline had receded so far that his forehead extended to the top of his head. There were touches of grey over his ears too. Have I noticed them before, wondered Jill? Or are they new? How often do I actually look at him and really see him? How often does he look at me?

  She sighed ruefully. In the early days of their marriage, his sense of humour would have had them giggling happily together over Sheila Colby’s absurdity, but now somehow, life had become more serious. Of course he had the responsibilities of his home and his two young children. His job, working with a finance company was a responsible one too, and on top of all that, he’d been elected chairman of the Dartmouth Circle Residents’ Association at the last AGM. He hadn’t wanted the job much, but the only other person prepared to stand had been Gerald Colby, and few of the residents had wanted him running their affairs. Almost everyone had realised that a vote for Gerald was in truth a vote for Sheila, and she already interfered with their lives enough.

  A pity the chairmanship hadn’t gone to Gerald, Jill thought angrily. Then he would have had to deal with this student business. She said as much to Anthony now, and Anthony shrugged. “That wouldn’t have helped anybody,” he said and turned his attention back to the news.

  Jill sat watching too for a moment, and then with a wave of frustration she went out to the kitchen to wash up the supper things.


  “Damn that woman!” she said aloud as she banged the pots and pans into the sink, “Damn that interfering, busy-bodying bitch!” Jill knew now that tonight was definitely not the time to bring up the job idea. The carefully fostered mellow mood had been shattered by the doorbell and the intrusion of Sheila Bloody Colby! Jill could have wept with frustration and rage. Even as she had chatted to Anthony over dinner about her day, Jill had been framing careful, non-confrontational phrases in her head ready to use when the moment came, when they were comfortably settled with their coffee, and now the moment wasn’t going to come, not tonight anyhow.

  She thought back over her day. Not a bad one as days went; the golf was always a bonus, and the rest of it run of the mill. Going with Thomas to the supermarket, dropping in for coffee with Alison Forrester at number eleven, doing chores until the children’s bath time reminded her of Sylvia’s innocent remark the previous evening… “I said you didn’t do anything,” and, though it was ridiculous, Jill knew she felt the same. On impulse she picked up the kitchen phone and dialled her mother, Nancy.

  “Mum, are you about tomorrow?”

  “Yes, I expect so. Why? Are you coming?”

  “I thought I might, if it’s all right. Probably just me and the children. I think Anthony will be working and it’s Isabelle’s day off.”

  “Of course it’s all right, it’ll be lovely to see you all. I’ll make a chocolate cake.”

  Jill laughed at that. “Do,” she said. “Sylvia loves them.”

  Feeling a little better for having done something positive, Jill went back into the sitting room. Anthony had fallen asleep in front of the television. She looked down at him for a moment. The lines of strain were etched into his face, so that even in sleep he looked tired. He’s thirty-five, Jill thought suddenly, but he looks like an old man.

  She woke him gently and said, “I’m going up for an early night, and you’d be more comfortable in bed than in that chair.”

  Anthony shook himself awake. “I’ve got some work to do before I turn in,” he said.

  “Leave it,” Jill urged gently. “Come on, come to bed. Do it in the morning.”

  “No, I can’t. I told you I had a meeting in the morning. It’s got to be finished for that.”

  “But tomorrow’s Saturday,” objected Jill.

  “I know, but I have to go. The man I have to see is only here now. He flies out to Hong Kong tomorrow evening. You go on up. I won’t be long.”

  “All right. Actually. If you’re going to be out tomorrow, I might take the children up to Mum’s for lunch.”

  “Good idea,” agreed Anthony reaching for his briefcase. “They’ll enjoy that.”

  It had been easy, Jill thought as she went upstairs. She would have a chance to talk to her mother properly, and uninterrupted.

  Jill loved her mother’s home. She had never lived there herself, Nancy had only moved to Meadow Cottage in Over Upton after Jill’s father had died, but she loved the quiet peace of the little house. It was set back from the lane, just outside the centre of the village and nestled into a dip in the hill, so that it was sheltered from the prevailing west wind. The garden surrounded it, with an orchard to one side and beyond that were the open fields and a view to blue hills in the distance. It was bathed in sunshine when they arrived, and Nancy was working in the garden, dressed in a pair of old corduroys and a man’s shirt.”

  “Granny, Granny we’re here,” Sylvia shrieked as she catapulted from the car and struggled with the garden gate.

  Nancy dropped her trowel and hurried to hug her. “So you are,” she cried. “How lovely to see you.” She opened the gate and gathered her granddaughter into her arms.

  “Did you make a chocolate cake?” Sylvia demanded.

  “Well now, I wonder,” laughed Nancy. “We’ll go and see in a minute. Just let me say hello to Mummy and Thomas.” She set Sylvia down and reached for Thomas as Jill released him from the car seat. Thomas put his chubby arms round her neck and hugged her. “Cake?” he asked hopefully.

  “Sorry, Mum.” Jill was laughing. “Sylvia was talking about your chocolate cake all the way here.”

  Nancy laughed too. “Well,” she said, “there is one, so we’d better go and find it.”

  Once the children had been given small pieces of cake with the promise of more after lunch, Nancy poured drinks for herself and her daughter and they carried them out on to the terrace and watched the children playing in the sandpit Nancy had had built for them in the garden. For a while they watched, amused by the antics of the children, and then even as Jill was wondering exactly how to introduce the subject of the job, her mother said, “Well, now that we’re comfortable, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Wrong?” Jill looked startled. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

  Nancy laughed. “You’re my daughter, darling,” was her only explanation.

  “I’m bored,” Jill answered. Now the initiative no longer rested with her she might as well be direct. “I’m bored and I want to go back to teaching part-time.”

  “But darling, you can’t possibly,” Nancy began.

  “Why not?” broke in Jill. “Other mothers do. Lots of them have to.”

  “But you don’t,” replied Nancy. “You’re lucky enough not to have to work. You don’t have to give your children to a child-minder, and miss out each time they learn something new. Think of the children. Thomas is only two. They’re young for such a short time.” She looked fondly at her grandson as he filled a plastic bucket with sand, his tongue stuck out between his lips in concentration. “And Sylvia is only at school in the mornings, she needs you there to come home to, to spend the afternoons and evenings with.”

  “But I would be there in the afternoons,” Jill explained. “I’d get a morning job somewhere and be finished at twelve. Isabelle can have Thomas for the mornings, and I’ll be there for them both in the afternoons.”

  “What does Anthony think?” asked Nancy, trying a different tack. Her instinctive reaction to Jill’s suggestion was to be against it. She believed very strongly that before children went to school full-time, their mothers should be at home with them.

  “I haven’t discussed it with him lately,” Jill admitted. “He’s so busy we hardly have time to talk anymore.” She sighed. “But I know he won’t like it much. You know he’s never wanted me to work even before the children.”

  Nancy did know. She had backed Jill in her stand to continue teaching until they started a family.

  “I want to provide for you,” Anthony had kept saying. “I want you to have time to enjoy your life.”

  “I do enjoy my life,” Jill had protested. “I love teaching and I would hate to be at home all day.”

  Anthony had appealed to Nancy privately, telling her it was his place to provide for his wife. Nancy was sympathetic. She knew he felt so strongly about it because his own father had done a flit when Anthony was only two, and he had watched his mother struggle on her own to bring up her three children, whilst working full-time. He had never forgiven his father, and was determined that his own wife should lack nothing that he could provide.

  “It is very commendable that you feel like that,” she had told him, “but really it would be better for both of you if Jill went on working. She does enjoy her teaching, you know, and finds it both rewarding and fulfilling. When you start a family, she’ll find that equally rewarding and fulfilling, but she needs to teach in the meantime.” Nancy held firmly to this belief and Anthony, with reluctance had agreed.

  Now Nancy was equally firm with Jill. “Your place is with your children,” she said. “Your first duty is to your family. I think you should rule out any notion of going back to teaching out of your head until Thomas is at school full-time. Then maybe you could consider a little part-time work.”

  “My duty?” Jill echoed.

  “Yes, your duty. It’s a much maligned and underrated word in this day and age. Most young women of your age would give their eye-teeth for what
you’ve got, Jill. A loving husband, two beautiful, healthy children, a nice home and enough money not to have to worry about the bills. You have an au pair to help with the chores and to give you some time to yourself, a car of your own, you lack for nothing and if it means you can’t go back into the classroom for a few years, so be it.”

  It was a long time since her mother had laid down the law and Jill greeted her words with a moment’s mutinous silence before she muttered, “Well thanks for the vote of support, Mum.”

  “Now, darling, don’t get in a mood. You asked what I thought and I told you.”

  “I didn’t actually.” Jill was still angry. “I just wanted to talk things over, not be given a lecture. I’m not beginning to suggest that I work full-time, anyone would think I’d suggested that I went and ran ICI or something. I just want an interest outside the house. Didn’t it drive you mad when you had to stay at home all day to look after us?”

  “Sometimes,” admitted Nancy, “but I had no help in the house, and with four of you I was kept pretty busy. If I’d tried to hold down a job as well, I think I’d have died of exhaustion. But in fact, I wouldn’t have missed the day-to-day changes as you all grew up, for the world.” She looked across at her daughter. “I think you and Anthony need a holiday. “Why don’t you have a couple of weeks away, just the two of you so you can find each other again? I can have the children, they’ll be no trouble, especially if Isabelle comes to help.”