The Good Neighbour (6 page)

‘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.

‘How’s the macramé going?’ she floundered.

‘Lousy. Why don’t you make us some tea and I’ll tell you about the blanket I had to unpick this morning.’ He stretched his long legs out in front of him. ‘You’ll entertain me, won’t you, Tilly?’

Tilly looked up at the sound of her name, and gave Liam one of her heart-stopping film-star smiles.

‘Ah, she likes me,’ Liam said.

Minette went reluctantly into the house. It felt weird leaving Tilly alone with a man she barely knew, even if he was going to be a teacher and was clearly not a psycho. She washed her hands, put the kettle on, then ran upstairs to change her wet pants. Look, she said to the imaginary raised eyebrow from Abe, I’m putting on another granny pair. She was safe in the knowledge that Abe was clueless about her knicker gradings – they all seemed small and frilly to him. Without making any further excuses, she pulled on a pretty white pair, and her nicest skinny jeans.

Downstairs, she made tea hastily, the wrong way (according to her dad), putting the milk in after the water, so the tea got up to colour quicker. Then she hurtled to the door, slowing down to look casual as she stepped outside. ‘Ah, here’s your mum now,’ Liam said to Tilly. ‘We’ll have to carry on our chat another time.’

As Minette sat down and handed him his cup, she noticed that the frames had been moved onto the ground, so there was no longer a barrier between them. Liam was close enough that she could see exactly how twinkly his brown eyes were.

‘So … macramé?’ she asked, concentrating on her tea.

‘I’m not really doing macramé, you know.’

‘I know. I was just flogging the joke to death.’

‘Do you want to know what I’ve really been doing all day?’

‘I’m not sure. Does it involve porn?’ Minette mentally high-fived herself at the edginess of her repartee.

‘Yes, obviously. But that needn’t take the whole day. No, I’ve been helping my mum move my gran into a care home.’

‘Oh, well, that’s very good of you, and sad too, of course.’ Minette withdrew her high-five and cursed the crass mention of porn. It was no good her trying to be sassy and cool, she always screwed it up.

‘Sorry, I don’t mean to sound all noble and po-faced. I just wanted to explain why I haven’t been round for a cuppa sooner. I’ve been up and down to Cardiff, where my gran lives.’

‘Oh, no, I didn’t think, er …’ Minette wasn’t sure what it was she didn’t think.

‘Macramé is my gran’s thing. She’s always making plant pot holders, though she doesn’t have any plants. She’s starting to lose her memory. That’s why we had to move her, she forgot she put a pan of water on to boil and started a fire.’

‘That’s awful.’

‘Yeah. God, I’ve really managed to put a dampener on our conversation, I’m sorry.’

Tilly started to grizzle. Minette put down her cup and scooped the child onto her lap. Tilly instantly stopped crying and reached across to Liam so she could play with the buttons on his shirt.

‘See? Kids love me,’ he said as he took Tilly back onto his knee.

‘It’s just the novelty. Wait till she gets used to you.’ Minette realised the implication of what she’d just said and, to hide her red face, reached down to retrieve the cloth she’d been using to clean the frames.

‘Minette, can I be honest with you?’

Minette gazed at the cloth. One of those blue-and-white ones. Nothing special. ‘Yes.’

‘You’re very easy to talk to. The thing is, well, things aren’t that great at home. I mean between Josie and me.’

‘Oh god, that is extremely honest.’ Clearly it
had
been a real proposition at Cath’s.

‘I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.’

‘You kind of are?’

Liam gently placed Tilly back on her blanket, and before she could protest he gave her his phone, which she started pressing with enthusiasm.

‘Liam, she’ll break it.’

‘I don’t care,’ he said. Without hesitating, he reached across, pulled Minette into his arms, and kissed her.

Whenever Minette looked back at this kiss – and she looked back at it a lot – she always edited out the J-cloth in her hand. Even when the kiss became associated with guilt and regret, rather than excitement, the J-cloth was missing. But once the affair was properly, finally finished, the cloth at last reappeared in her mental image, in its proper place, held damply in her hand. Failing in its primary duty to wipe everything clean.

Minette, when reflecting, ranked this as the most significant kiss of her life. She’d not, until that moment, ever been unfaithful. Not to Abe, not to anyone. She had never so much as held another boy’s hand when she was in a relationship.

But despite this unblemished track record it didn’t occur to her, for even a moment, not to kiss Liam back. It was such a glorious, filmic thing to happen, such an impossibly hot gorgeous kiss, that she just closed her eyes and melted into it.

A montage of kisses from her life flickered in her mind like a show-reel, in black and white like the ending of
Cinema Paradiso
, her favourite film. The most recent, the hasty rushing-out-of-the-house peck from Abe this morning – ‘Ta-ta, Dougie’ – compared poorly to their first kiss, nine years earlier, at a student gig, after weeks of pretending they were just friends. Before that, the double-crossing kisses of Paul, who she didn’t think about anymore, except when she did. Ah, Paul. The taste of cigarettes, and mint to cover up the cigarettes, the astonishing softness of his lips. Shit, stop thinking about Paul.

The show-reel moved onto a merry-go-round of kisses at university; before Paul and Abe there was a dark boy, before him, a bearded boy called Benjy who was shorter than her and made her sit down. A wet lunging kiss from poor Derek, who she only dated out of pity, and a thin fair-haired girl who’d demanded a snog at a party. Minette could hear the boys cheering them on, chanting ‘Madonna and Britney’, and Minette had drunkenly complied, and liked it, though not enough to do it again.

Going back in time, a sea of lips at sixth form college, unremembered apart from the unpleasant tongue thrusting of Nicholas Something in the student bar, and Steven from Singapore, the flicky-haired heart-throb of the college, who’d made it his mission to kiss every girl before the end of the year. Back, back, to school, to being fifteen, to Jamie, who was impossibly glamorous at seventeen with his acne scars and Ford Capri. She didn’t care that her parents didn’t approve, she was just grateful to have a boyfriend despite her glasses. So grateful, in fact, that she lost her virginity to him, but that wasn’t as memorable as their first kiss, at a party, which Jamie turned up to with another girl and left with Minette. In between those bookends he kissed her in the kitchen, one hand holding her glasses, the other hand holding her breast.

All the way back to her sepia-tinted first kiss, aged twelve, with Ros’s cousin who was staying for the summer holidays. She couldn’t remember his name, only his freckles, and the cucumber green of his shirt, the sunlight on her skin, the feeling of plunging into a new, more interesting world.

That was how she felt now, too.

She dropped the cloth she’d been clutching, so she could snake both arms round Liam’s neck. His lips were warm, his breath clean, the smell of him lemony and unknown. How good it felt to be touched, to be desired, by someone so beautiful. To be touched at all was such a novelty. Thinking of how long it had been made Minette think of Abe and their non-existent sex life, and she abruptly pulled away. She couldn’t look at Liam, turned instead to Tilly, who was putting Liam’s phone into the cardboard box, then taking it out again, and clearly hadn’t noticed anything amiss.

‘So, it’s true,’ Liam said, his voice coming from far away. ‘You
do
like meeting the neighbour.’

Neighbours. Shit! Minette scanned the pavement, half expecting to see the entire street out there, pointing and tutting. But no one was there. She glanced up at the round window at the side of Cath’s house which overlooked them, the window she was sure Mr Milton used to watch the house from, and just like in those bad days thought she saw a dark shape move away. Doubtless just her guilty conscience.

Finally, she raised her eyes to Liam. She was aware that he’d been watching her while she silently panicked.

‘Are you all right?’ he said.

‘I can’t sleep with you, I’m sorry.’

He laughed. ‘Wow, who’s coming out with the honesty now?’

‘I’d better go, got to get Tilly’s supper.’

Liam looked at his watch. ‘It’s only quarter past three.’

God, fifteen minutes later and the kids from the local primary would be swarming up the street on their way home. Imagine them all seeing her and Liam, stopping to point and laugh at them k-i-s-s-i-n-g. How stupid, how reckless she’d been. She picked Tilly up as a kind of shield, and handed Liam back his phone.

‘It’s a bit smudged.’

‘So am I.’ He grinned. ‘You sure you don’t want me to come inside?’

Was this an intentional double entendre? She had no idea, which showed how little she knew Liam, so what the hell was she doing? ‘I’d better go,’ she said again, meaning,
you’d
better go.

‘Listen, Minette,’ he said quietly, ‘I don’t want you to think I go round randomly kissing women, because I don’t. I think you’re lovely.’

‘Thank you.’ Formal. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

‘I hope so,’ he said, and touched her arm. ‘Bye ladies, have a good afternoon.’ He strolled off towards his house without looking back.

Minette sat Tilly in front of the TV with a rice cake for each hand, then poured herself a glass of wine and collapsed into a chair. What just happened, what just happened? She ran her finger over her lips, trying to feel them the way Liam had done. They felt unfamiliar, almost swollen. Oh, god. She leaped up to look in the hall mirror, but there wasn’t any damage, anything to see. She looked dreamy and alarmed at the same time.

God, what was she playing at? She had a partner and a baby. Liam was married. Anyone passing by could have seen them. Perhaps there
had
been a dark shape at the window. Perhaps Cath had seen them. Minette didn’t know her well enough to guess whether or not she would disapprove.

She roused herself to get the tea together. It was far too early, as even a non-parent like Liam had noted, but it was helpful to have something to do. Cooking usually helped Minette think more clearly, and as she chopped sweet potato into tiny cubes she began to calm down. She ought to visit Cath. It would be neighbourly to go round, see how she was getting on. It was overdue anyway; Minette hadn’t seen her since the crying-on-the-bench incident last week. That bench was fast becoming the place where it all happened. Minette let out an involuntary giggle. What are you like, Miss Minette?

She gave Tilly some of her tea early, as a treat. Tilly didn’t seem to object to this unusual breach in her routine, and as soon as she’d finished eating, or smearing it across her face, which seemed to be the same thing, Minette carried her round next door.

The new doorbell gave a normal one-note ring. Cath answered the door holding a paint roller. ‘Minette! How lovely.’

‘You’re busy, I won’t stop.’

‘Not at all, come keep me company while I paint. There’s only one more wall to go. The kids are back from school but they’re just flopping in front of the telly.’

Minette followed Cath upstairs into Lola’s room. Three of the walls were already clean and white. Minette sat on the dust sheet-covered bed with Tilly while Cath climbed up a stepladder and sloshed paint about.

‘Couldn’t stand that damn magnolia for one more second.’

‘You make it look so easy.’

‘There’s nothing to it,’ Cath said. ‘I never understand why people would pay someone.’

‘Kirsten just had her entire house repainted after her husband left, cost her three grand.’

‘She seems a nice lass, but what a waste of money.’

‘I think she didn’t care, she wanted a fresh start. Her husband had all the walls painted a different crazy colour, like lime, and purple. She went over the whole lot in Farrow & Ball Old White.’

‘I use your bog-standard bottom of the range Dulux. It all looks the same once it’s dry. So have Kirsten’s special powers helped Tilly’s sleeping?’

‘Well, it doesn’t seem to have done much yet. We’ve only had two sessions. Abe’s sceptical. But I think it might help relax Tilly.’

‘Is she stressed, then?’ Cath grinned.