The New Neighbours (12 page)

After breakfast, she rang Mary Jarvis. They were not close friends, but they were both volunteers at St Joe's Drop In Day Centre, and Shirley wanted to let Mary know that she was back.

“Has Sheila got hold of you yet?” Mary asked when they'd finished discussing the St Joe's rota.

“No, she hasn't,” Shirley replied. “But she has put a note through our door asking me to phone her the minute I got back. I must admit, I didn't phone last night when we got in, I was too tired. Do you know what she wants?”

“To spread alarm and despondency,” said Mary wickedly.

Shirley could hear the laughter in Mary's voice. “What sort of alarm and despondency? Mary, you're laughing, what on earth is all this about?”

“I shouldn't laugh really,” Mary said sheepishly. “It's not funny, at least what she's doing isn't funny. But it does affect you and David.”

“Come on, Mary,” Shirley expostulated. “Spit it out.”

“Ned Short's sold his house,” began Mary.

“I know that,” interrupted Shirley, “we talked to one of the workmen yesterday when we got home. He said some builder has bought it.”

“Indeed he has,” Mary agreed. “Chap called Nicholas Richmond.”

“So what's all the excitement about?”

“The builder, Nicholas Richmond, isn't going to live in the house himself. He's doing it up for his daughter,” Mary explained.

“Well, it certainly needed some work done on it,” Shirley said, “but

I still don't see what the fuss is about. Why does Sheila want to talk to me about it? Doesn't she like our new neighbour?”

“She hasn't met him yet, as far as I know,” Mary said. “But his daughter is at the university, and he's bought the house to be used as a student house. His daughter, I don't know her name, is going to live there with an undisclosed number of other students, and Sheila's got her knickers in a twist about the whole thing.”

“Just a minute, Mary, let me get this straight. You're telling me we're going to have a houseful of students living next door?”

“That's right,” said Mary, “as far as we know, unless Ned made the whole thing up!”

“Who discovered this?” asked Shirley. “I mean where does the information come from?”

“Ned Short told Sheila, the day he had signed the contract. Took great delight in telling her, I should add.”

“Probably would have taken great delight in telling me, as well,” Shirley sighed. “We weren't on the best of terms with him either, you know.” She sighed again and Mary waited in sympathetic silence. “Well, this is a facer. I'd better go and tell David I suppose. I'll see you later at St Joe's.”

Shirley cut the connection and went to find David. He was in the garden room they had built on to the back of the house, pottering contentedly with his plants as he always did. Shirley watched him for a moment, wondering how he would react to the shattering of their peace, which was certain if the news was true.

“I've found out what Sheila wanted us for,” she began.

David looked up from what he was doing. “Oh yes, did she ring?”

“No, she didn't. But I rang Mary Jarvis about going to St Joe's and she told me.”

“And?”

“It's about Ned's house.”

“What about it?”

“The builder who has bought it is going to let it as a student house.”

“A student house. You mean he's not going to live there but has just bought it as an investment.”

“Not quite. Apparently his daughter is at the university and he's bought it for her and some of her friends to live in.”

“Sounds very sensible to me,” David remarked. “With the price of rented accommodation these days, and the scarcity of it in Belcaster, it seems a wise move.”

“It probably is from his point of view,” snapped Shirley, exasperated by his calm acceptance, “but from our point of view it could be a disaster. They're sure to be noisy, you know how loud these youngsters play their music these days.”

“Well, if they do, we can ask them to turn it down,” David said reasonably. “I understand what you're saying, of course I do, but I don't think we need to panic yet. They may be very nice kids. We must at least give them the benefit of the doubt until they prove themselves otherwise, don't you think?”

Shirley smiled ruefully. “Of course you're right,” she admitted. “It would be most unfair to condemn them before they even move in. But I'm sure that must be what Sheila wanted to talk about, Mary said she'd got her knickers in a twist about it.”

“Always got them in a twist about something,” said David dismissively. “Well, now you're forewarned.” He turned back to the seed trays he was pricking out. “Any chance of a cup of coffee?”

“Yes, of course. Do you want it down here, or will you come up?”

“I'll come up in a minute,” David said. “I've nearly finished these.” As they were drinking their coffee in the window overlooking the

Circle, a red van drew up on the drive of number seven, and a short thickset man climbed out and walked up to the front door.

“Looks like our builder,” David said. “Definitely a different man from yesterday. Shall I go and introduce myself?”

“Yes, do,” said Shirley, “then we can hear straight from the horse's mouth.”

David set down his coffee mug and went down into the front garden.

The builder was looking at the new panes in the door.

“Good morning,” David said, walking across. “Are you our new neighbour?”

“Oh, hallo.” The man smiled and held out his hand. David liked him at once. He had an open face, tanned from the outdoors, with grey eyes which met David's squarely and a handshake that was firm. “Nick Richmond. Yes, in a way, I am. I've bought the place, but my daughter, Madeleine, is going to be the one living here.” He glanced across at the van and called, “Hey, Maddo, come and meet one of your neighbours.” David turned to see that there was someone else sitting in the van, a girl of about twenty. She scrambled out at her father's call, and David saw what an attractive girl she was. Not tall, but with a neat figure and a mass of dark curls tumbled all over her head. She wore the uniform denims and enormous sweater, and her small feet were greatly enlarged by the huge and heavy black boots, but even so she didn't look as scruffy as many of the students who lurched about the town. Her smile was broad, lighting her bright hazel eyes and mirroring her father's.

“Hallo,” she said. “Do you live next door?”

“Yes, number eight. My name's David Redwood.”

“I'm Madeleine Richmond.” She held out her hand and her handshake was as firm as her father's. “Nice to meet you. You're the first of our neighbours that we've met.”

“We've been away, Shirley and I. We only got back yesterday evening.” Somehow, David felt he needed to explain why they hadn't met before, to make it clear that they hadn't been avoiding them.

“Well, we only got possession a few of days ago,” Nick said. He looked back at the house. “So we're getting to work at once. There's a hell of a lot of work to be done before they move in, in September.”

“I'm sure there is,” David said. “I don't think Ned Short ever did anything to it, from the day they bought it.” He turned to Madeleine again. “You hope to be in for the beginning of next term, do you? How many of you will be living there?”

“Five of us,” replied Madeleine. “Two blokes and three girls. You'll like them, they're all great guys.”

“I'm sure we will,” said David, a bit taken aback by the news that there were to be five of them. “Five will be fairly close quarters won't it?”

“Not by the time Dad's finished,” Madeleine said. “We're making new bedrooms, so everyone will have a room of their own, and then we'll share the living space.”

“I see, well that sounds very good.” David sounded doubtful and

Madeleine laughed.

“When it's finished, the structural part I mean, I'll give you the guided tour,” she promised.

David smiled. “Thanks,” he said, “I'll look forward to it.”

“In the meantime, I'm afraid things may get a bit noisy with all the work which has to be done,” Nick said. “There'll be some banging and hammering, and various deliveries of materials. I'll apologise now for any inconvenience, but we'll try and keep it to a minimum. It's always difficult with these open-plan front gardens. If there is any problem,” he felt in his pocket and produced a rather dog-eared business card, “that has my business number, home number and mobile. You should be able to find me somewhere, and I'll do my best to sort it.”

“They seemed very charming,” David reported back to Shirley, who had been watching from the living room window. “The girl is a looker.”

“How nice,” Shirley said wryly.

David grinned at her. “Well, there are going to be two young men living there too, so keep your fingers crossed, you never know you may find yourself a toy boy.”

Shirley laughed. “Silly old fool,” she said affectionately.

“Seriously though,” David went on, “they were very pleasant. But I did discover that there are going to be five of them living there.”

“Five,” cried Shirley in horror. “Good Lord! How will they all fit in?”

“With a shoehorn I should imagine,” smiled David. “Now I think you must know at least as much, if not more than Sheila, so you'll be able to hold your own.”

“Well, I'm hoping not to see her today,” admitted Shirley. “I'm off to St Joe's this afternoon, and I must do a supermarket shop this morning or we'll have nothing to eat. If she phones while I'm out,” Shirley added sweetly picking up her handbag, “you can deal with her.”

“I just shan't answer the phone,” said David carelessly.

“David, you must. It might be Melanie.”

“If it is, no doubt she'll ring back. She knows we won't be far. Don't worry about Melanie, love, she'll be fine. Peter is sure to ring if he's worried about her.” He gave his wife a little push. “Go on, off to Sainsbury's. I'll be in the garden, but I'll answer the phone if I hear it.” Shirley walked round to St Joe's after lunch. She always enjoyed going there, and had the double pleasure of knowing she was actually being useful. The day centre was held in the small church hall behind St Joseph's, a huge Victorian gothic church off Dartmouth Road, one of the main streets leading into the centre of Belcaster. It was a simple hall with a small kitchen off it, but it served cheap lunches and free cups of tea, and most of its regulars were elderly or disabled, lonely, and sometimes homeless. It was run by a capable woman named Mavis Hope who, with a band of faithful volunteers managed to keep it open five days a week. The Friends of St Joe's worked hard to keep it funded, and with a small grant from the local authority they just about kept their heads above water. It had been equipped with tables and chairs, there were a few packs of cards and it had some chess and draughts and domino sets. A bookshelf of tatty books stood behind the door, but they were well read, and as they finally disintegrated newer second-hand replacements were found. When Shirley got there she was greeted with delight by one or two with whom she regularly played draughts, and by old Vera Harris who waved at her and called out, “Thank gawd you've come back, Shirley. My knitting's all gone wrong and none of the other buggers here can put it right!”

Shirley laughed. “I'll be over in a minute, Vera, just let me say hallo to everybody.”

Mavis was sitting at one of the tables helping a scruffy young man to fill in some complicated-looking form. She waved a hand of welcome to Shirley and then turned her attention back to the form.

Shirley went through to the kitchen where she found a West Indian girl tackling a pile of washing up. “Hallo,” Shirley said, “I don't think we've met, have we? My name's Shirley Redwood.”

The girl smiled at her. “Hi, I'm Cirelle Thomas.”

“Nice to meet you, Cirelle. Do you want a hand with that?” Shirley looked round for a tea towel to help with the drying up, but Cirelle shook her head.

“No, really, I can manage here, I've got time to finish this. You go and help Mavis outside. There's a new pot of tea made if anybody wants some.”

Shirley shed jacket and handbag, and went back to Vera.

“Now then, Vera,” she said sitting down by the old lady, “let's have a look.”

Vera had been labouring over a sweater for months now, determined to get it finished, but her hands were arthritic, and she found the work hard going.

“I'm not going to waste this wool,” she would say. “I'll finish this bugger if it kills me.”

Shirley swiftly disentangled the wool and gave her attention to the pattern. “Ah, I see. I'm afraid you've gone wrong right back here.” She showed Vera the mistake. “I'm afraid you'll have to go back if it's going to look right in the end.”

“OK, Shirl, whatever you say.” Vera watched as Shirley ripped the knitting back to the mistake. “Where you been these last few weeks, then?” she asked. “I been stuck with this ever since the last time you was in. I brought it every day since in case you come back.”

“I went to stay with my daughter,” explained Shirley. “She just had her second baby.”

“Lovely,” said Vera. “Boy or girl?”

“Little girl, they've called her Suzanne.”

“Lovely,” Vera said again. “Got any snaps, have you?”

Shirley smiled at that. “Yes, lots!”

“With you?”

“No, not today, but I'll bring them next time if you like.”

Cirelle appeared at their side. “Want another cup of tea, Vera?”

“Oh, yes please, luv. Never say no to a cup of tea, do I?”

Cirelle brought them tea, and as she moved on to another table, Vera said, “Nice girl, that one. Doesn't come in very often, but when she does she's always smiling. She's a student you know. Up at the university. Must be a clever girl. Told me she come from London.”