The Good Neighbour

by Beth Miller

  Jogging along the flat path, passed by skateboarders and leggy girls on rollerblades, Cath felt bucked up, raised a hand to two women running towards her, who waved back. Hove was such a nice town, such a good move. The right move.

  She wasn’t mad keen for an ed psych to get involved, she knew they were generally pretty nosy, but she supposed they might have an interesting viewpoint. Though she didn’t hold psychologists in as high esteem as proper medical people, like nurses. Anyway, knowing how these things worked, a referral would take months. Who knew where things would be then?

  When the derelict west pier came into view Cath slowed to a halt and looked at her phone. Three kilometres. Not bad. Bit out of breath, but the legs were holding up. She reckoned she’d soon be able to do five, which was all she had to do for the triathlon. Running and swimming were OK. Cycling would be the hard bit. But she knew from other fundraisers she’d seen back in Troubletown that nothing brought in the donations like a triathlon. There was no point just doing a run anymore.

  She turned away from the pier and started to walk home, making lists in her head. Cool down, quick shower, then get working, make some calls. Got to get back into the networks, Cathykins. Already been here three weeks. She’d been given some useful numbers from the local Duchenne support group. And Lola’s nursery had been great, had put up notices encouraging people to sponsor her, but it was harder to get schools on board. She needed to raise her profile. Maybe put on a fundraising event there? Quizzes were always popular.

  Cath was back at Sisley Street, trying to fish her door key out of the sweaty zip pocket at the back of her running trousers, when she saw the girl next door, Minette. She was sitting in her front garden, on a bench Cath hadn’t noticed before.

  ‘You’ve got a good view of the street from there,’ she called, then realised Minette was crying. ‘Oh, lovie, what’s up?’ She pushed open Minette’s gate and sat next to her.

  Minette wailed, ‘Nothing!’

  ‘Yeah, I can tell.’ Cath put her arm round Minette.

  ‘I’m so sorry, really embarrassing.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. Let it all out, lass.’

  Cath didn’t point out that to avoid embarrassment all Minette had to do was sob inside her house, rather than right out in front of it. Cath preferred to cry in private, but she had flamboyant friends such as Gina who liked an audience when she was upset, and she understood that. Her own need for an audience came out in a different way, that was all.

  Minette’s sobs slowly gave way to sniffs, and at last she sat up and fumbled for a tissue, blew her nose with a honk.

  ‘I thought me sitting so close would do the trick,’ Cath said. ‘I’m well rank.’

  Minette smiled. ‘You are a bit sweaty, now you mention it.’

  Cath raised her face to the sun. ‘This is a good idea. Maybe I’ll get a bench for my front yard too.’

  ‘Oh, god.’ Minette sounded like she might start crying again.

  ‘Hey, I’m sorry. I won’t get one if you don’t want me to.’

  Minette gave a spluttering laugh. ‘No, it’s just me and Abe had such a stupid row about the bench.’

  ‘Bit of an odd thing to argue about?’

  ‘It’s been sitting in the back garden under a tarp for months, since his parents gave it to us. They thought I could sit out on it when it was sunny, and feed Tilly.’

  ‘Abe’s parents sound nice.’

  ‘They are, they’re lovely.’ Minette paused, then said, all in a rush, ‘Anyway, I decided it would be better in the front garden, then Tilly and I could sit here and watch the world go by, maybe see a few more people than our average day of seeing no one. So I asked Abe to help me move it, but he just got in a mood for absolutely no reason, and went off to work in a strop. I was so fed up I dragged the sodding thing right through the house myself, and it’s made a mess of the walls.’

  Cath expected Minette to start crying again, but she surprised her by laughing. ‘So, it’s worked anyway. By sitting here whinging at you, I’m having more conversation today than in the previous three days put together.’

  ‘It’s boring at home with little ones, isn’t it?’ Cath said sympathetically. ‘Is Tilly asleep?’

  ‘Yes, though not for much longer. Come and have a quick cuppa before she wakes up?’

  Cath looked at Minette’s earnest face. She was very pretty after crying, her dark blue eyes shining. ‘I really need a shower. The pong’s just killed some of your plants.’

  ‘Those are weeds. Oh, go on, you can tell me about your triathlon and everything.’

  Much as Cath wanted to go home, this was an excellent opportunity for some girl-bonding with her next-door neighbour. So she followed her into the house, noting the scuff marks on the walls above the skirting where Minette had dragged the bench.

  They went into the kitchen where Cath admired Minette’s oak tops and gleaming tiles. ‘Wish I had the money for a new kitchen,’ Cath said. She’d inherited the Miltons’ outdated faux-wood units and grubby Formica tops.

  ‘We were lucky, Abe’s parents helped us out,’ Minette said, filling a fancy cream-coloured retro kettle with water. ‘So how’s the training going?’

  ‘Not bad. Thanks for your sponsor pledge, by the way.’

  ‘You’re welcome. Really impressed you’re doing it. When is it?’

  ‘End of June.’

  ‘That’s less than two months!’

  ‘It’ll be fine. That’s ages.’

  ‘Will your husband be there, cheering you on?’

  Oh, clever Minette. Valid question. Cath batted it away. ‘He might. I suppose Tilly’s too young to come and watch?’

  ‘We’ll definitely be there. Always good to have something different to do. Someone said he was working abroad, is that right?’

  Persistent. She’d have to give her something. There was a sharp intelligence in Minette’s face and Cath knew she would be harder to fob off than some others.

  ‘Yes, he’s in Poland. We Skyped last night.’

  ‘Good heavens, what’s he doing there?’

  ‘He’s in long-distance haulage.’ Intelligent or not, Cath knew she could rely on Minette not to ask any questions about what that meant. No one ever did.

  ‘Oh. Is he away for much longer?’

  ‘Probably – he usually goes from one job to the next. Last time he was away for six months.’

  ‘God, that’s tough. He hasn’t seen the house, then?’

  ‘Not actually been here. But I sent photos. He said to go for it.’

  ‘Is it hard, him away so much?’

  ‘Not as hard as having no money,’ Cath said truthfully, and Minette looked embarrassed.

  ‘Oh god, sorry.’

  ‘It’s a lot better paid than local haulage. That’s what he was doing before Davey came along. But when I stopped working, we couldn’t manage.’

  ‘What did you used to do?’

  ‘Nursing.’

  ‘Oh, that’s very cool. I wanted to be a nurse when I was little.’

  ‘Me too, and I never changed my mind. I loved going to hospital when I was tiny. It was always the nurses who knew what was what. Doctors can be so daft,’ Cath grinned. ‘I liked the way nurses would say “yes doctor” then do what they wanted anyway.’

  ‘Could you go back to nursing when Lola’s at school?’

  ‘Yes, I’m hoping to. What about you, what was your work?’

  ‘Nothing as useful as you,’ Minette said. ‘I worked for the council’s tourism department, as a guide at Brighton Pavilion. It’s such a fun job.’

  ‘Are you going back after maternity leave? I didn’t go back to work when Davey was a baby. I loved being at home with him. Happiest time of my life.’

  ‘I was thinking I probably will. I’ll have to let work know soon, actually.’

  ‘Do think carefully about it,’ Cath said. ‘Babies need their mummies. You don’t get that time again. Unfortunately I had to go back when Lola was small, we coul
dn’t manage without my wages. But I regret leaving her.’

  ‘Well, I haven’t finally decided …’

  The monitor on the counter crackled into life, relaying Tilly’s crying loud and clear.

  ‘There she is, god love her,’ Cath said. ‘I’d better go,’

  Minette got up. ‘You don’t have to rush off, do you?’

  ‘I’ll just say a quick hello to Tilly, if she don’t mind the smell.’ Cath pulled her running top away from her body and sniffed down it. ‘God, disgusting.’

  While Minette was upstairs, Cath looked round the kitchen, getting ideas for hers. Everything was stylish. That kettle, and one of those Dualit toasters that Cath reckoned were one big con. Gina had a pink one that Ryan had given her, you either got your toast white or charred. The stove had a dozen buttons and knobs, like the flight deck of a plane. Abe’s job couldn’t keep them in single-stave oak worktops and Neff cookers. It must all be from their parents.

  She examined the large noticeboard on the wall but there was nothing very interesting: a baby group poster, out-of-date Tesco’s vouchers and a brochure about viniculture, whatever that was. The board was mainly covered with photos of Tilly: on her own, with Minette or Abe, or with older people, presumably one or other set of grandparents. Then a different photo caught Cath’s eye. It was half obscured under the timetable of the local swimming pool, but as it was the only picture of Abe and Minette on their own, it clearly had some significance. It was taken several years ago, going by their fresh faces. Cath unpinned the photo to see it better. They were standing on a balcony in front of an ancient cream-coloured building, smiling, arms round each other, squinting into the sun, which gave off that bright yellow light Cath always associated with abroad. Abe was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. He was thinner, his hair shorter. Minette was wearing a green dress and her hair was loose, down almost to her waist. Cath could see why it was on display: they both looked beautiful in it.

  Cath heard Minette coming downstairs, talking to Tilly. There wasn’t time to re-pin the picture, so she folded it, put it in the pocket of her running top, and quickly sat back down.

  ‘Here she is,’ Minette cooed.

  ‘Aw, she’s so gorgeous. Hello lovie!’

  Tilly looked blankly at Cath. ‘She’s still a bit sleepy,’ Minette said.

  ‘Seems only a minute since Lola was that tiny.’ Cath stood up. ‘I’d better run. See you both soon.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Minette said.

  ‘You’ll be sitting on your bench won’t you, now the weather’s better? I’ll keep an eye out for you.’

  ‘Yeah, if Abe doesn’t move it,’ Minette said ruefully.

  Minette was torn, Cath could see that. She knew Minette wanted to talk about Abe’s unreasonableness, but she didn’t want to be disloyal. And she wanted Cath to stay because it was boring being alone with a baby, but she didn’t want to beg. Cath would like to know Minette better, but she wasn’t going to rush. It took time to build up trust, even with someone as open and eager to be friends as Minette. There were already plenty of things she knew, anyway. She’d noted Minette’s intense conversation with Liam at her party. She reckoned she knew why Abe had been difficult that morning.

  She waved to Tilly as she went outside, past the contentious bench, and into her own house for a long hot shower.

  Chapter 7

  Minette

  MINETTE KEPT HER smile in place till Abe shut the door, then she stuck two fingers up and muttered something rude under her breath. She’d seen the meaningful look he gave to the pile of dirty picture frames still stacked by the front door.

  She took Tilly up for her nap, zipping her into her soft quilted sleeping bag, pulling down the blind, and winding up the mobile Minette’s mother had sent that played ‘Für Elise’. Tilly was a child of routine, and her thumb went automatically into her mouth, her eyes already closing. Minette crept downstairs and put the kettle on. The pleasure of drinking a cup of tea from start to finish, while it was hot – something she had previously taken for granted – was now right up there with sex.

  Working only a fifteen minute walk away, Abe often came home for lunch. Like today. Which was sweet, but also a bit irritating, as if he imagined himself as a 1920s factory worker, with a wifey handing him a freshly made Cornish pasty before the whistle blew for his afternoon shift. Not that he at all expected Minette to get his lunch, but he invariably managed to wind her up in some way during his short trip home. In the early days of their life with Tilly it might have been a raised eyebrow that Minette wasn’t yet dressed; more recently it was arch comments about the repetitiveness of their outings. ‘Toys R Us again?’ Minette had grown tired of explaining that the toy shop was like a museum to Tilly, who was too little to realise that the items were for sale. It was a great place to use up an hour, and you could be as noisy as you liked, unlike at home. But Abe thought Tilly should be learning stuff, going to proper museums and art galleries.

  ‘Bit young, isn’t she?’ Abe’s mum Julie murmured to Minette one time, as Abe talked about taking Tilly to see the Brighton Philharmonic, and Minette smiled at the older woman gratefully.

  Today when Abe had asked what her plans were for the afternoon, and she’d mentioned the park on the corner, he said, ‘You went there yesterday.’

  ‘Well, here’s news: you can go there as often as you like,’ she replied, tetchily.

  She was on her second cup of tea, and reading an article in last Sunday’s paper in which a divorced couple explained where their relationship went wrong, when she heard Tilly on the monitor. She bounded upstairs, calling, ‘I’m coming,’ in a sing-song voice. She was still programmed to rush at the first hint of noise. Tilly had only napped for fifteen minutes, but Minette had managed to drink one-and-a-half cups of tea, and read one-and-a-half articles in the papers; amazing what you could do in such a short time.

  Minette gently extricated Tilly from her sleeping bag and stroked her soft leg. So plump and smooth! Minette longed to give it a gentle bite, but kissed it instead. She carried Tilly downstairs, chatting to her. ‘Do you fancy the park, then, Tills?’ Minette sometimes felt tired by the sound of her own voice droning on during these one-sided conversations. But then she had an idea which perked her up. ‘I know! Let’s clean those grotty frames and put your photos inside. We could even put them up. It would impress Daddy and maybe stop him nagging me for five minutes. What do you say?’

  Tilly, as ever, didn’t say anything. Minette took her out to the front garden and sat her on the little patch of grass with some toys. She filled a bucket with water and chatted as she started to clean the cobwebs and grime off the frames. ‘Look Tilly, your pictures are going to go in here.’ One-sided conversation or not, it was still such an enjoyable novelty not to feel that she had to whisper.

  Minette finished the first frame, then realised she didn’t have anywhere clean to put it now it was wet. She checked the garden gate was shut, not that Tilly was likely to crawl over there, and ran upstairs. She dug out a ratty towel, then went for a pee. It was a massively long one, as usual. Before she had Tilly – B.T. – she could wee whenever she wanted. Now – A.T. – making time for the most basic tasks required careful planning. It was easier to save everything up, including peeing, for one long burst. She was still sitting on the loo when she heard a man’s voice outside, very close to the house. The gate clicked open. Jesus, he must be coming into the garden! What a stupid careless idiot she was, to leave Tilly unattended. She jumped up without wiping herself, drips spreading into her pants, and raced out to the garden, holding up her jeans. A man was crouched next to Tilly, talking to her in a low voice. Oh my god, what was he doing, what had he done, what did he want?

  ‘Hey!’ she yelled, and he looked up and smiled. For a moment she didn’t recognise him, but her first thought was familiar: wow, he’s handsome.

  ‘Hey, yourself!’

  Of course, it was Liam. Clearly, it was a fundamental rule of the universe that every time M
inette saw him she was a mess. Apart from at Cath’s party, where he had possibly propositioned her. Now here she was with her fly undone, grey granny knickers visible, his face level with that exact part of her anatomy. Was she doomed never to be cool in front of him?

  Liam straightened up, reminding her how tall he was. ‘I was just having a chat with your lovely daughter.’

  ‘She’s not much of a conversationalist,’ Minette said, doing up her trousers.

  ‘You look like you were caught in flagrante with the milkman.’ He sat on the bench, and smiled at her.

  ‘I was in the bathroom and I heard someone talking to Tilly …’

  ‘Oh balls, and you imagined she was being abducted. I’m so sorry, that was thoughtless of me.’

  ‘No, no, not at all.’ She sat down too, to show she wasn’t rattled, pushing the frames along the bench so that they were between her and Liam. ‘Wha’s ’appening, anyway?’ For no reason whatsoever she lapsed into cockney. Oh yes, superbly suave.

  ‘Nothin’ much, blud,’ Liam shot back, gamely. ‘God, these frames are filthy.’

  ‘Abe found them in a skip.’ Her breathing was still uneven from thinking Tilly was in trouble, and she tried to hide it, not wanting Liam to think that he made her breathless. Even if he did.

  ‘What’s wrong with new ones? I hear Ikea are quite good.’

  ‘He likes reclaimed things,’ Minette said, defending Abe’s foraging in a way she didn’t when he was around.

  ‘Oh yes, upcycling or pre-loved or whatever is the latest terrible neologism for second-hand. But, be honest, I won’t tell: wouldn’t you rather have nice new frames? He’s basically given you a chore, not a gift.’ Liam smiled, to show he was teasing.

  Minette didn’t answer, because she would of course prefer new ones. And because she was distracted by the effect on her of a sexy man using an intelligent word like ‘neologism’. Thank god Abe was safely back at work. Yes, he’d say, I thought that’s why you wanted the bench out front. Handy for flirting with neighbours who’ve got time on their hands. No, he wouldn’t say that. He’d just think it, and she’d know he was thinking it.