by Beth Miller
‘What’s funny, Mum?’ Davey asked.
‘I’m just happy to be here. Aren’t you? I slept so well last night.’ Cath sat down on a deckchair and sang, ‘Oh I do like to be beside the seaside, while the brass band plays tiddly-om-pom-pom!’
Lola sat on Cath’s lap, but Davey just gave her one of his funny looks.
‘What’s up with you? We are beside the seaside now.’
‘We haven’t seen it yet,’ Davey pointed out, ‘except in the car.’
‘Well, it’s there, all right. We’ll go look at it later, shall we?’
Both children nodded. Lola rubbed her head against Cath’s neck.
‘Fantastic. Hop off, Lolly. I just got to do something. I’ll come and help you with the telly in a sec.’
Cath went upstairs, marvelling all over again at the wide staircase, the three good-sized bedrooms leading off the hall. She paused at the little round window at the top of the stairs, which looked out onto Minette’s front garden. These funny old houses. They were semi-detatched, but the big bay windows, upstairs and down, meant that the right-hand side of the house – the left-hand side in Minette’s case – stuck out further than the centre. The round window was on the side of the bit which stuck out, but only on her house: Minette’s didn’t have one, so maybe a previous owner had bricked it over. A window like this would never get planning permission now. They’d say, rightly, that it was overlooking next door. From what Minette had said about the previous owners, they were quite keen on overlooking, and complaining too. Well, Minette would find her quite a different kind of neighbour.
Cath went into her bedroom, and smiled at herself in the mirror. A room of her own. No dirty work clothes chucked on the floor, no smells other than her own, nothing moved unless she moved it. There was a bolt on the inside, but she’d have to get a proper lock on the outside too, pretty sharpish. The kids were going to go mad, especially Davey, but she’d realised, soon as they got to Gina’s, that she couldn’t risk them going on the computer. Gina had put hers away while they were there and told Davey it was at the repair shop. She needed the computer herself, of course, for fundraising, so she’d have to keep it in here. As Davey got older this was going to be a massive headache. Computers were everywhere, smart phones, everything. School was going to be a big problem. Well, she’d have to explain some of their situation to the head teacher, was all.
The bed looked very inviting. Five minutes, all right, Cathykins? Just till she felt a little calmer. She lay on her back and sank into the pillows, focused on soothing the tension in her arms. Lying in bed in the day always made her think of being off school, her mum coming up with soup, or to put a cool flannel on her forehead. It was such a safe feeling. Cath snuggled under the covers, and tried to hold onto the safeness, to stop worrying about everything. She consciously stopped herself thinking about Davey and computers. She’d go mad if she thought about everything she had to sort out, all at once. There was so much of it, and she was so tired. Lousy night last night, no point telling the kids that, though. She’d hoped it would be better now they were here in their own place, far away from Troubletown, but it was obviously going to take a bit of time. It had only been one night, after all.
She’d always fall asleep fine, but an hour later she’d be awake, heart racing, convinced something had happened to the children. She’d hurtle out of bed, go into each of their rooms, shine a torch on their faces, check they were breathing. Only when she’d done that could she get back into bed. Then she’d be asleep, awake, asleep, for the rest of the night. Sometimes she’d have to check them again; other times she’d manage to get into a deeper sleep, but then she might have one of her stressy, argumentative dreams.
Her dream this morning had woken her at five-thirty, shaken her so much she’d got up and gone downstairs to paint a couple of walls before the children stirred. Her dreams were frantic, her racing round, trying to do some unspecified thing. There was usually a chase in which she had to cross a road that became sticky trapping mud. Other times there was an old-fashioned phone where she kept dialling the wrong number.
Andy had been sympathetic about her nightmares. He was lucky, he always knew he was dreaming, and when things got frightening his conscious self could tell his unconscious ‘it’s just a silly dream’. How she wished she could do that. But her dreams always seemed totally real and terrifying.
She remembered she hadn’t yet noted down the names she’d learned off Minette, and from Josie, the woman on her other side, who she’d met this morning. She sat up and grabbed a notepad and pen from the bedside table. Gina’s mum had taught her, years ago, that one way to feel more in control was to focus on one small, manageable task. On a separate page for each address, so there was space to add things when she got to know people better, she wrote:
29: Priya, Rashid, Amina, Nisha and Raka. Three generations. Priya’s sister = estate agent. Brother owns and lives over shop at end of the street.
30: Don’t know.
31: Minette, Abe and Tilly. Her = a bit strung out. Him = don’t know yet. Sweet baby.
32: Old woman, living alone.
34: Sixty-something couple. Smart red car.
35: Liam and Josie. Him = gorgeous and knows it. Her = slightly less so and knows it.
36: Kirsten. On her own. Husband left her last year. Skip outside. Post-divorce renovating. Cranial osteopath.
37: Greg and Steven. Gay?
38: Student house.
39: Don’t know.
40: House-share. All girls in their twenties, Josie thinks.
41: Martin, Sarah and Callum. She walks with a stick. Accident? Kid a teenager, Josie says a menace with his skateboard.
The other houses she could just put an invite through with the house number on the envelope. No need to get everyone’s names yet.
Cath surveyed her notes, frowning at her babyish handwriting. At school, boys and girls had been separated for writing lessons. Cath and all her mates had left primary with the same rounded writing, lots of loops. The boys all had nice spiky writing, straight lines, no messing. Only Gina had rebelled, had got Barry Etherington to teach her the boys’ version and practised over and over till she got it right. The teacher had whinged about it, called Gina a silly tomboy, but there was nothing the school could do. It was a good lesson, Cath thought, and she didn’t mean the one from school. If you really set your mind to something, what could anyone else do to stop you?
Cath locked the notepad in her bureau. She definitely felt calmer. She turned on her laptop and sent a quick email.
Dearest V
We are here! Safe. Gina was a star, did so much, helped me with all the paperwork. Couldn’t have done it without her. But must admit it is so nice to have our own space. Hoping for long-ish breathing space before we see you. Has Wade gone yet? Keep me posted.
R xx
She took a last look at the neat, silent room, and went back down. The television was working and the kids were watching a cartoon.
‘Well done, Davey. You’re a right little electrician. I’ve got a good feeling about this place, don’t you?’
‘Mmm.’
‘I’m going to sort out a party for the neighbours, really soon. Would you like that?’
‘Mmm.’
‘Yes Mum. Blimey, I’m talking to myself here.’ Cath laughed and ruffled his hair. ‘It’ll be a great chance to tell people about our fundraising and that.’
‘Can we have a biscuit?’ Lola asked.
‘What, them ones from her next door? They’ve all gone, Lolly. I’ll do some sandwiches. I’m just going to sit for a minute, I’m cream-crackered.’
‘Will Daddy be here soon?’ Lola asked.
Cath caught Davey’s expression, saw him shake his head at Lola. Cath frowned, not really meaning to, just thinking about what to say, and Lola’s face crumpled. Cath put her arm round Lola and held her close. She put her other arm round Davey but he leaned away so that she had to stretch awkwardly to reach him. ‘Oo
h, you big lump,’ Cath said, ‘so stubborn. What’ll you be like when you’re a teenager? I tremble to think. I knew a kid like you, Davey, a little girl, in the hospital, very poorly she was, but stubborn? Jumping snakes! She was.’
‘What was her name?’ Lola asked. She loved Cath’s stories.
‘Libby. Cute little thing. Blonde bunches. Roll up your sleeve, Libby, I’d tell her, gotta take a teeny bit of blood for the doctor. Would she? Nah.’
‘Did she die?’
Cath tried again to cuddle Davey, but he sat up straight and stiff, his arms folded in front of him. Cath gave up and pulled Lola closer. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, into Lola’s hair. ‘Yes, she died, poor little thing.’
‘Daddy,’ Lola whispered.
Cath wasn’t sure if she’d meant to be heard. ‘He’s busy, like I told you. Driving his big lorry.’ She let her go, and both kids turned their attention back to the television. ‘I’ll do them sandwiches. Jam all right?’
Neither of them replied, and she walked over to the door. When she turned to look back, Davey had put his arm round Lola’s shoulder.
Chapter 4
Davey
THE CARPET IN Davey’s old room had thick red and orange stripes, with a thinner blue stripe in between. Red, blue, orange, blue. Davey liked to sit on the floor and run his finger along a blue stripe, because when you pushed it one way it went a slightly different blue.
The new carpet was green. It was old and flat. The green stayed the same when he pushed it. Lola said pretend it’s grass, but Davey wasn’t feeling particularly pretendy.
Davey told Adam Purcell his five favourite numbers.
Eight, because he was eight.
Seven, because he had liked being seven and it was famous as a lucky number anyway.
A zillion, even though according to his dad it wasn’t a real number.
Googol, which was one with a hundred noughts after it, bigger even than a zillion which was probably a billion times a trillion or something. He knew Google had been named after googol, but it had been spelled wrong.
Sixty-eight, the number of their old house.
Davey wished his mum would hurry up and unpack the laptop. She kept saying it was in a box underneath another box and she would ‘get round to it’. Grown-ups said they would get round to it if it was something they didn’t want to do.
Davey wasn’t even going to have his new room for long. His mum said she would make him a better room downstairs, in the dining room, soon as she got a minute. Getting a minute was a lot quicker than getting round to it. She’ll say it’s going to be fantastic, Adam Purcell said. Davey told his mum he wanted to stay upstairs but she basically did her look. ‘I can’t carry you anymore.’
When Davey was little, he could walk whenever he wanted. He remembered that well. Just walking around, nothing stopping him.
The best thing about the new house was the window at the top of the stairs. No, the best thing was that his mum was all happy. The window was the second best thing. It was a special window, because it was round. Davey had never seen a round window before, except in pictures of ships. You could look at next door’s front garden out of it.
Davey thought about the last joke his dad had told him. Whenever his dad put him to bed, he would tell him a bad joke. ‘Lola,’ he said, ‘want to hear Dad’s joke?’
She nodded.
‘Why did the birdie go to the hospital?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘To get a tweetment.’
Lola laughed, she always did, though she never really got them. She laughed, then said, ‘I don’t get it.’ Her doing that always made their dad laugh even more.
Now she asked him when their dad would be coming. Davey just said, ‘I don’t know, don’t ask Mum any more,’ and ran his hands over the new carpet, hoping to see the green change.
Chapter 5
Minette
AS MINETTE WALKED up Cath’s path, she wondered idly – she told herself it was idly – whether Liam would be there. She’d made a big effort: black trousers that made her waist look smaller, a little green top with sparkly straps. Now she’d stopped breastfeeding she could wear what she liked. She still winced whenever she thought back to Ros’s wedding, when Tilly was just five weeks old. How impressed everyone in their old crowd had been to see Minette out and about so soon after giving birth, looking ‘super-hot’, Ros said. Tilly slept through the ceremony like an angel, and Minette was just starting to properly relax when Tilly woke with a scream at the reception. Minette automatically moved the sobbing baby to her breast, then realised that the only way to get her boob out of her new tight-bodiced dress was to unzip the whole thing, and push it down to her waist. An usher found her a quiet room that was invaded ten minutes later by a group of drunk men looking for the cloakroom. It was the most humiliating moment of her life, easily taking over from the school sports day when her period started in the middle of the egg and spoon. She’d almost cried when she got back to Abe and told him, but Abe, pissed and enjoying the party, had just laughed. And although he was horrified for her later, when he realised how upset she was, a small part of her felt she had never completely forgiven him.
Cath greeted her effusively at the door. ‘Love your top, Minette! Hey, where’s my Tilly?’
‘Abe’s just changing her, they’ll be along in a minute.’ Minette admired the newly sanded wooden floors in the hall as Cath led her to the kitchen.
‘So many people have come,’ Cath enthused. ‘This really is a fantastic neighbourhood.’
‘I suppose it is,’ Minette said, distracted by the word ‘neighbourhood’, which she thought was American. Though of course there was the Neighbourhood Watch, which was very British, very Abe’s parents, so maybe not. Two Indian men Minette hadn’t seen before were sitting at the table, drinking tea.
‘Too early for wine?’ Cath asked, holding up a bottle. ‘Don’t be put off by these two,’ and she giggled at the men, ‘they’re lightweights.’
Minette accepted a glass of wine, not looking at the tea-drinking men in case they disapproved.
‘Good lass. Keep me company.’ Cath started pouring the wine, then her little girl toddled over and tugged her sleeve. ‘Careful Lola, you’ll make me spill it.’
‘He wants toilet.’
‘OK, tell him I’m coming.’
Cath handed Minette the glass and said, ‘Davey hasn’t got the hang of getting his chair up that high step yet. Come out with me, there’s someone I want you to meet.’
There were quite a few people already in the garden, most of whom Minette didn’t recognise. She waved at Priya, and saw Kirsten talking to a man with receding hair, who was blatantly looking down her top. This made Minette grin, and she was still smiling when Cath said, ‘Minette, let me introduce you to my other next-door neighbour.’
Minette looked up into Liam’s film-star face. ‘Oh! Hi!’ she stammered.
His eyes crinkled as he smiled, and said, ‘Lovely to meet you properly.’ He took her hand and held onto it a little longer than she might have expected.
‘Excuse me, won’t you,’ Cath said. ‘I just have to sort Davey out.’
Christ! Minette was alone with the handsomest man she had ever seen. She didn’t know whether to give thanks to the God of Good Things, or call out to Cath, don’t leave me by myself! Liam had her idea of perfect looks: tall and broad-shouldered, fair-haired, expressive brown eyes, a secretly amused expression. He reminded her dangerously of her ex-boyfriend Paul, her gold standard of maleness, who had inevitably broken her heart.
‘Is, er, your wife here?’ Minette asked, mentally slapping herself around the head the instant it was out of her mouth. See? She should simply not be left alone with men like this.
‘No, Josie’s had to go to work. Mind you, meet the neighbours isn’t really her thing.’
‘Oh, really?’ Minette now felt naff in comparison to the cool unneighbourly Josie.
‘Not me, though. I like it.’ There was a pa
use. ‘Well, I like meeting some of them.’
Was he flirting or just talking? She looked into her glass, and mumbled, ‘What work does she do?’ Now she’d started on the wife she might as well keep going.
‘Something time-consuming but well-paid, in human resources for Hilton Hotels.’
‘Ah, so do you get to stay in luxury hotels then?’
‘Everyone asks that.’
‘I’m super-original,’ Minette said, attempting to style out her pitiful small talk.
‘We do get the occasional freebie. So, where’s your husband?’
‘Oh, I’m not married. We’re just. Um. There’s no right word for this, is there? Partners, I suppose.’
Liam grinned. ‘So where’s your partner?’
‘He’s still at home, changing the baby.’
‘What’s wrong with the one you’ve got?’
‘Very good.’ Minette tried to up her banter. ‘Well, we thought we’d maybe swap her for a quieter one.’
‘Yes, I understand from Cath that the previous neighbours complained.’
