The New Neighbours (19 page)

“We'd be honoured, Mrs Peters,” Steve Hooper said gravely. “Would you like us to sort out the setting up of the barbecue on the day, get all the charcoal, that sort of thing?”

Madge dazzled him with a smile. “Well,” she said as if she hadn't intended that they should all along, “that would be absolutely marvellous. Would you mind? I'll order all the meat from Footwell's in the Dartmouth Road. They're very good there, they'll cut it all up and deliver it here the day before.”

Madge looked across at the student house. There was no sign of life from there yet, not that she had expected there to be. She had heard some of them come home the night before, and it had been quite late. They were all in residence now. Madge had watched with interest as each one had arrived, carrying boxes and bags, cases and rucksacks into the house, until she wondered if it could possibly hold any more stuff.

What had pleased her most, however, was that yesterday she hadhad a visit from Madeleine Richmond, the girl whose father actually owned the house. Madge had been dozing in her window when she'd been awakened by the buzz of her entryphone. She reached for the receiver and called, “Yes?”

“Mrs Peters? It's Madeleine Richmond from over the road. Can Icome up?”

“Yes, of course.” Madge pressed the door release, delighted to have an unexpected visitor. She heard footsteps running up the stairs and the girl came into the room. Madge didn't get up from her chair, but she held out her hand in welcome and the girl crossed the room immediately and grasped it warmly. Madge liked her at once. She had a cheerful, open face, framed with dark curls, partially caught back with a clasp, and she was grinning broadly.

“Hallo,” she said, “I'm Madeleine. I've come to thank you for the invite to your party tomorrow. We'd all love to come, if that's all right. It isn't too late to accept, is it? Ben didn't move in until yesterday, and I wasn't sure how many we'd be.”

“Of course it's not too late,” Madge said cheerfully. “It'll be lovely to meet you all.” Her eyes twinkled. “I've been watching you coming and going from my window. Now have you time for a cup of tea with me?”

“Oh, yes please,” said Mad. “Shall I put the kettle on?”

“Would you? It'll save me getting up.” Even as she said this, Madge wondered why it was so easy to accept help from this young student, when identical help offered from Sheila or Shirley or even Andrew always irritated her.

“You'll find cups and things in the cupboard, Madeleine,” she called through to the kitchen.

Madeleine appeared at the kitchen door. “Do call me Mad or Maddo, everyone does, except my Great-aunt Molly.”

Madge laughed at that. “Then I shall certainly call you Mad, I don't think I want to be classed with Great-aunt Molly if she's referred to in that tone of voice. And you,” she went on as Mad carried a tray into the room, “must call me Madge, if you can manage it. Not many people left in the world these days to call me Madge, at least,” she added with a wink, “not to my face!

“Now, pour out the tea, and then tell me all about the students in your house. Then when I meet them tomorrow, I shall have some idea of who is who.”

Mad had stayed for nearly an hour, and the two of them had got on like a house on fire. Mad found Madge surprisingly easy to talk to, and

Madge thought Mad's zestful way of speaking both endearing and refreshing. Both were surprised when they looked at the time.

“Hey, I must go,” Mad said, jumping to her feet. “We're all meeting at the Dutch later. But I'll come and see you again, shall I?”

“That would be lovely,” Madge smiled. “And you must make sure Imeet them all tomorrow,” she added. “I'll want to know who I'm watching through my window in future!”

Mad laughed and promised to bring each of her house-mates over to be introduced. “I'll try and bring them one at a time,” she said, “so you can really work out who everybody is!”

“I can't see us having any problem with them,” Madge remarked toSpike, “if they are all like young Mad.”

Spike agreed. Mad had put down an extra saucer of milk for him in the kitchen before she had left, and he felt extremely well disposed towards her.

By the time Madge had had some breakfast and dressed herself, there were the beginnings of activity in the Circle below. Steve and Mike were sorting out the big barbecue made from half an oil drum, which was kept for such occasions in the Hoopers' shed. This they set up on the pavement outside Mike's house. Paul Forrester had borrowed some trestle tables and he and Alison were covering them with sheets ready for the food to be laid out. Anthony Hammond was setting up a bar on another table in his drive, while Jill took glasses from a cardboard box and put them in neat rows beside the cans of beer and bottles of wine.

Andrew was supposed to be coming to fetch her down into the Circle just before twelve, but suddenly Madge wanted to be there now, to be part of the preparation. It was her party, after all, why should she miss out on all the fun of setting it up? After all, she might never have another party. Tipping Spike of her lap, she got up and went to the top of the stairs, settled herself in the seat of the lift and glided down to the ground floor. As she let herself out, she saw Dr Fran coming out of her house, carrying a huge bowl of raspberry and meringue.

“Morning, Mrs Peters,” called Fran, “and happy birthday.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” replied Madge, “I'm having one. I just thought I'd come down and see what was going on. What a scrumptious looking pudding.”

“Thank you. It's usually a favourite.” Fran slowed her pace to match Madge's and they strolled into the garden. When they reached the bench Fran said, “Why don't you sit here and direct operations, it's your day after all.”

Madge smiled at her gratefully, she hated to admit how much walking anywhere tired her these days. “Yes, what a good idea, I think I will. It's such a lovely morning.”

Everyone came over to speak to her, to wish her happy birthday, to consult her on where she wanted the food tables. Jill and Alison went into to her house to collect the meat that had been delivered the day before. Even Sheila Colby who had been against the whole idea seemed to be entering into it now. She came up to where Madge was sitting, carrying a huge cake.

“I've made you a birthday cake,” she said, and, leaning down, showed Madge the enormous chocolate cake, decorated with little chocolate roses and an iced message, “Happy Birthday Madge, Ninety Today.” Round the edge were nine candles. “Not ninety, I'm afraid,” Sheila said, “but one for each decade.”

Despite her habitual feeling of irritation whenever she saw Sheila, Madge was touched by her kindness in making a cake. She had considered getting one made herself, but had decided against it, thinking people of ninety didn't need birthday cakes. However, now she saw Sheila's offering, she found that they did, and feeling the tears pricking the back of her eyes, she said with true sincerity, “Sheila, how kind of you, it's a beautiful cake. Thank you very much indeed. You know how much I love chocolate cake.”

Sheila flushed with pleasure. She was always a little afraid of Madge Peters, but she could see that the old lady was really pleased and it made the effort she'd put into the cake well worthwhile.

“I'll go and put it on the table with the puddings,” she said and bustled off, pausing to warn Isabelle not to let the children she was minding, Hammonds and Forresters, play near the food table. As she moved on, Isabelle pulled a face at her back and gathered the four children, who were nowhere near the food table, to come and say happy birthday to Mrs Peters.

The invitation had said twelve, and by half past nearly all the residents were out in the Circle, either in the garden or on the road itself with glasses in their hands, chattering and laughing in the comfort of their own private community. As soon as Andrew Peters had arrived and parked in his mother's driveway, Mike Callow and Dr Harry had put their cars across the entrance of the Circle, so that the party was cut off from the outside world.

“We'll move them if necessary,” Dr Harry promised Anthony, “but we don't want cars sweeping into the Circle and ploughing into the party.”

“Anyway,” Mike added, “everybody's here. We're none of us expecting anybody else, and there shouldn't be any casual traffic on a Sunday.”

The smell of the barbecue wafted across the Circle and in through the windows of number seven. Most of the inmates were just emerging from their beds, but the smell of barbecuing meat hurried them to the windows.

“Shit!” said Dean peering out. “The whole street is out there.”

“Well, it's a street party, dumb-dumb, what d'you expect?” cried Mad.

“Come on, Dan, I'm going out to have some breakfast.”

Dan, who had spent the night at the Madhouse, sniffed. “Yeah, maybe, in a minute. Put the kettle on, eh?”

Madge was delighted with her party. She sat in the sunshine with a coffee table beside her, thoughtfully provided by Mary Jarvis. On this, she had her lunch and a glass of wine, and as she ate, she watched her guests enjoying themselves.

The Callow boys, Peter and Carl, and the two young Hoopers, had put rugs on the ground in the garden and were sitting round eating barbecued sausages and spare ribs in their fingers. Oliver and Emma were living with their father now, but Madge had made a point of inviting the Callow children with a separate invitation from Mike's. It hadn't escaped her notice that they visited their father far less often than they used to, and she wanted them to be at her party. She had asked Caroline as well, since she always had been part of Dartmouth Circle before she left with the children. Caroline had allowed the children to come, but declined for herself. Probably for the best, Madge thought with a sigh. She didn't want any rows or scenes at her party.

Young Debbie Callow was playing with Tom and Sylvia Hammond in the sandpit, enjoying being the big one for a change. She'd said to Jill, “I'll mind them for you, I like little children.”

Jill had smiled and said, “That would be a great help, Debbie. Just give me or Isabelle a call when you're tired of them.”

Debbie played with the younger children quite happily. She liked coming to see Daddy, and she thought this party was great fun. Dad was busy cooking of course, but he'd promised to take them swimming when it was over.

Madge's eyes wandered round the groups of adults as they shifted and changed. Angela Haven was here with her two girls. Annabel, Madge thought, was looking very peaky, obviously working too hard for the exams the young were burdened with these days. She seemed to have made little effort to dress up for the party. She wore the regulationjeans and a T-shirt with an outsized shirt over the top. In contrast, Chantal, had obviously given a lot of thought to her appearance. Though several years younger than her sister, she didn't look it. In comparison with Annabel's wan face, Chantal looked blooming. Her make-up heavy, with thickly applied mascara and heavy-handed eyeliner, was startling, but it had been painstakingly done. Dressed to catch the eye, Chantal was wearing a crop-top and the shortest skirt Madge had ever seen, and though it was really very warm she had long boots on that came up over her knees. It certainly had the desired effect, no one could possibly miss her.

The sisters were talking to Isabelle, but even as they did so Chantal's eyes were scanning the other guests, as if searching for someone more interesting. The students no doubt, Madge thought with a wry smile. She had no illusions about Chantal Haven.

Angela was talking to Fran and Harry Davies. She looks tired too, thought Madge. Can't be easy when your husband ups and walks out.

David and Shirley Redwood were sitting with Mary Jarvis and Sheilaand Gerald at a picnic table at the edge of the garden. They had two bottles of wine on the table and seemed to be in fine spirits. The Hoopers and the Forresters were gathered round the barbecue with Mike Callow, and Jill and Anthony Hammond were standing by the bar on their front drive.

Andrew came and sat down beside her, a plate piled high with barbecue and salad in one hand and a pint of beer in the other.

“Good party, mother,” he said. “Everyone seems to be enjoyingthemselves. Can I get you anything?”

“No, Andrew, you eat yours. I'll wait for a pudding.”

Across the Circle a door banged and out of number seven streamed Mad Richmond and the other residents of The Madhouse. They were all talking and laughing and at once made a beeline for the bar, all except Mad. She looked round the groups, and seeing Madge sitting with Andrew in the garden, came straight across.

“Happy birthday!” she cried and dumped an envelope in the old lady's lap. “There's a card from all of us. I'm sorry we're a bit late, but we had rather a late night last night.” She looked at the elderly man sitting next to Madge and said, “Hi, you must be Andrew. I heard all about you yesterday when I came for tea.” Hardly pausing for breath, Mad went on, “That food looks good, I'm starving. See you in a minute, Madge. I'll bring the others over as soon as I can drag them away from the bar.”

“Who was that?” asked Andrew, startled.

“Madeleine Richmond,” replied his mother. “It's her father that's bought number seven, remember? As a student house?”

Andrew grinned. “Yes, I remember. Sheila was horrified.”

“Still is, as far as I know,” smiled Madge. “But Madeleine, or Mad as she's called, seems a very friendly girl. She came to tea with me yesterday and was great company.”

Mad went up to the others at the bar and claimed a glass of wine.

“We're supposed to be meeting everyone,” she said. “I gather it's one of the reasons for the party.” She grinned. “I want to introduce you to our other next door neighbours, coming, Dino?”

“Yeah, in a minute,” said Dean, who had just spotted Chantal. “Just got to speak to someone first.” He wandered off.