The New Neighbours (42 page)

They've got kids in the house too, Anthony thought, they must be loving this noise!

The front door of number seven was ajar, and after some futile knocking Anthony was about to go in when the whole frontage was lit up by headlights, and a police car pulled round the Circle. Anthony drew back from the door and turned to meet the police. A constable got out of the car and said, “Good evening, sir, PC Woodman. Mr Redwood, is it?”

“No, Anthony Hammond, from number three.”

“You didn't phone us, sir?”

“No. If it was David Redwood, he's next door at number eight. I was just going to see if I could get them to turn down the music a bit. I'm chairman of the Residents' Association and I've had a complaint from the neighbours the other side, the Colbys.”

At that moment he was aware of someone at his side and turned to find Sheila Colby, dressed in her dressing gown. She had rushed down into the road when she saw the police car. “Thank goodness you've come, officer,” she said to the policeman. “This noise has got to be stopped, it's a public nuisance.”

“We'll see what we can do, madam,” he promised and then turning to Anthony again, said, “I'm not surprised someone complained, sir. It is very loud isn't it? Who owns this property, or is it rented?”

“A girl called Madeleine Richmond. She's a student herself and rents out the other rooms.”

“Well, sir, we'll deal with this now,” said Woodman, “if you'd all like to go back indoors.” Nobody moved. At that moment David Redwood emerged from his house, also dressed in pyjamas and dressing gown. “Good, you're here,” he said without preamble. “You can hear the problem yourself, and this racket has been going on for nearly an hour now. It's too loud and too late!”

“Mr Redwood? Don't worry, sir, we'll sort it now, if you'd just like to go back indoors.”

David didn't go back indoors, but crossed over to join Sheila, Paul and Anthony as they stood aside and watched the police. A policewoman had joined Constable Woodman on the pavement, and together they went to the front door of number seven and pressed the bell. If it rang, no one heard it above the noise of the music. Woodman pushed open the door and they went in. He went straight upstairs and immediately smelt what Dan had, when he had arrived.

“You stay at the top of the stairs,” he said to WPC Ford, “someone's using drugs in here.” Then he strode across the room to the stereo system and turned off the power. For a moment the silence was deafening, then there was a babble of complaints before everyone realised who had turned the music off. WPC Ford switched on the overhead lights and Woodman said, “Right, everyone stay where you are.” He spoke to Ford. “Ask for back-up,” he said, “and then search upstairs, let's have everyone in here. No one's to leave this room,” he ordered. “Which of you is Miss Richmond, and who else lives here?”.

Cirelle came forward, looking scared. “I live here,” she said. “That's Mad there.” She pointed to Madeleine who was sprawled on the sofa, but beginning to surface, woken by the sudden silence.

“Miss Richmond?” Woodman said as she looked up at him blearily. “We've had a complaint about the noise, and I'm not surprised. However, I'm more concerned by the use of drugs in this house. I intend to search everyone here.”

Madeleine was suddenly wide awake, and looking round the crowd in the room, shrugged helplessly. “If you must,” was all she said.

Dean, realising that something untoward was happening, came out of his bedroom, and stood in the doorway. “What's going on?” he muttered.

No one answered him, so he closed his door gently behind him and waited.

Mad looked across at Cirelle and murmured, “Where's Dan?”

Cirelle raised her shoulders in ignorance, but she knew why Mad was asking. Dan occasionally smoked pot, and Mad didn't want him caught with it on him. However, Mad's question was soon answered. After calling for assistance, WPC Ford had gone upstairs and now reappeared, shoving Dan downstairs in front of her and pulling Chantal along behind her. Dan was wearing only his boxer shorts, carrying his shirt and jeans, and Chantal was wrapped up in Charlie's bedspread.

Mad saw them emerge into the room, and staggered to her feet, but it took her a moment to realise just what she was seeing. “Dan?” she whispered incredulously “Dan… you haven't…?” But she could see by his face that he had. “You bastard,” she cried. “You shitty, fucking bastard.” She launched herself at him, her arm swinging to hit him across the face, but WPC Ford caught her, held her firmly.

“No need for that, Miss Richmond!” she warned.

“Isn't there?” She gave Dan a look of pure pain and with the fight draining out of her, she turned away. Immediately Dean was beside her, and putting his arms round her, he held her close, as she fought to control her tears.

Chantal looked terrified, and Woodman said, “And just how old are you then?” Chantal didn't answer at once and at that moment Dean's bedroom door opened again, and Pepper peered out bleary-eyed, to see what was going on.

“And still they come crawling out,” remarked Woodman. “Right, out of the house, the lot of you, the party's over.”

At that moment the back-up arrived in the form of another police car, its blue light and head lamps flashing, with two more officers in it, one of them a sergeant. Woodman quickly brought him up to date.

“Right,” said Sergeant Trump, “I smell cannabis in here. Search them all, Woodman. Dawes,” he turned to the man who had arrived with him, “look round the rest of the house, and see if anyone else is here. Start downstairs.” Dawes nodded and disappeared down the stairs, while Woodman and Trump moved to begin their searches.

Denroy was first, but he looked the policeman in the eye and said softly, “I don't think, so, man. I'm leaving,” and quietly, he stalked from the room. Others followed him, and soon very few of the party remained.

In the meantime, WPC Ford, instructed by Trump, took Chantal back upstairs and told her to get dressed.

She asked her name, and then said, “How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” lied Chantal. “Hmm, and where do you live?”

“Across the road, at number four.”

“I see. And does your mother know where you are?”

“She said I could go out,” Chantal said defensively. “With your boyfriend.”

“Yes,” Chantal was more defiant now. She felt braver with her clothes on.

“I don't think the girl downstairs thought he was your boyfriend,” Ford remarked. She reached into the plant pot on the table and retrieved two cigarette ends.

“Smoking, were we?” she enquired.

“So?”

“So, it's an offence to smoke cannabis, you must know that.”

“Cannabis?” Chantal's hard-won courage evaporated. “I didn't… I mean it was just a cigarette.”

“Did he give it to you, your boyfriend?”

“Dan? Yes, I don't smoke really.”

“I see.” WPC Ford looked sceptical. “Well, now you're decent again, we'd better go back downstairs.”

It was the sudden death of the music that alerted Ben. He and Jill were lying exhausted on his bed, about to drift off into sleep when the silence descended and then there was the sound of strange voices in the hall. As Ben dragged himself out from under Jill, she giggled and made a catch at him.

“Sssh!” he said fiercely, “there's something going on.” He pulled on his jeans, and eased the door open. Looking along the passage he saw that the front door was open, and in the light, which revolved lazily blue, he saw a small crowd gathered outside.

“Christ!” he exclaimed, closing the door hurriedly and turning the key, “It's the fuzz!”

“What—” asked Jill a little muzzily, “what did you say?”

“Police,” Ben said tersely. “They're here! Someone must have called them because of the noise. Shit! What are we going to do?” He picked up Jill's bra and tossing it to her, said, “Quick. Get dressed. We've got to think of something.”

Sobering up rapidly, Jill struggled back into the clothes she'd cast aside so excitedly earlier. “Who's here?” she whispered.

“There's a police car outside, the blue light's still flashing,” replied Ben, “but that's not all, there are other people out there too, from the Circle I imagine come to see the fun.”

“How will I get out?” cried Jill in panic.

“I don't know,” snapped Ben. “Think for a minute.”

“I could go out of the garden door,” Jill said, tugging on her trousers over her bare bottom, she couldn't find her panties in her hurry to get dressed.

“No point,” Ben said briskly. “There's no way out of the garden, and you could never climb the fence at the back. You'd be trapped.”

“Maybe they won't come in here,” Jill said hopefully.

“Some chance.”

At that moment there was a rap on his door, and a man's voice said,

“Open up.”

“Stay behind the door, and stay out of sight.” hissed Ben. “I'll go out willingly and they may not even come in.” It was a forlorn hope but worth a try.

“Who's there?” Ben called sleepily, as if newly awakened. “What do you want?”

“Police! Open the door.”

Ben opened the door and peered at the man standing outside. “What's the matter?” he asked rubbing his eyes.

“Just like you to step outside for a moment, sir,” the policeman said “and the lady behind the door too, please.”

Ben was about to protest that there was no one in the room with him, when he realised that Jill was in full view in the mirror on the wardrobe door. “Come on, Jill,” he said and held out his hand. Together they came out, and were led to the stairs. As they turned to go up there was a voice from outside spoke in utter incredulity. “Jill?” and then louder, a shout, “Jill! What the hell…?”

Jill took one look out through the front door. Her eyes met those of a stupefied Anthony, and the amazed eyes of Paul Forrester and Sheila Colby, and then she turned away and with leaden feet, followed Ben and the policeman upstairs.

At last it was over and everyone was sent home. No one was charged with drugs offences. The cannabis resin and the few ready-rolled reefers that were retrieved from the floor had not actually been found in anyone's possession. The noise causing the nuisance had been stopped, and the threat of impounding the equipment hung over the house should such a disturbance be caused again. The party was over, but the recriminations were about to begin.

Dan had vanished into the night as soon as he had dragged on his clothes. The police had made no move to restrain him, and the students who were still there ignored him entirely. He had made no move to speak to Mad, no further look had been exchanged between them, he simply slipped away into the darkness, and disappeared.

Angie was still there when Ben had come upstairs with Jill. She stared at him. She hadn't realised he'd come home and gone to his room with someone else while she was waiting for him upstairs to come and join the party. She went white with fury and marching across the room spat out, “I knew there was someone, Ben Gardner, I didn't know it was your grandmother!”

“Goodbye, Angie,” Ben said wearily.

“Yeah! Too right, you bastard,” she snarled. “I'm well rid of a shit like you.” She went downstairs and out of the front door, where the police were encouraging the neighbours who had come out to see the fun, to return to their homes.

“It's all over, ladies and gentlemen,” PC Woodman was saying.

“There's no noise now, so you can all go back to bed and to sleep.”

Chantal was taken home by WPC Ford. As they reached her front door, it opened before she could put her key in the lock. Annabel was in a towering rage in the doorway.

“Where the hell have you been, Chantal?” she began, but her words died away as she saw who her sister was with.

“Is this your sister?” asked WPC Ford.

Annabel nodded. “What's happened? Chantal, oh my God, are you all right?”

“Yes, I'm OK.” Chantal glared at her. “I was at the party, that's all.”

“We thought it best that I should see your sister home,” explained WPC Ford, her glance taking in the fact that Annabel was pregnant. “Are your parents at home?”

“No, mum went out for the evening with friends. She… she phoned earlier to say that she'd been drinking, so she was going to stay over until the morning.”

“I see, so you're on your own in the house?”

“Yes. So…?”

“So you were worried about your sister coming home so late.” It was a statement not a question.

“I was a bit,” admitted Annabel carefully. “I wouldn't have worried if I'd known you were at the party,” she said to Chantal, “you should have warned me, that's all.” She looked at the policewoman and added, “Mum knew she was going out, she said she could go. It's the weekend after all.”

“Yes, I see. Well, she's home now.”

Annabel stood aside and Chantal scuttled inside. “Thank you for bringing her,” Annabel said and firmly shut the door.

WPC Ford stood outside for a moment longer. “Seventeen? Bullshit!” she murmured to the air and went back to where Woodman was waiting for her in the car. The crowd had now dispersed, and the second car had already left.

“Must've really shaken this place up when that load of England's future moved in,” Woodman remarked, and driving slowly round the Circle headed out on to Dartmouth Road.

Madge Peters sat in her window and watched the police cars drive away. She had heard the music of course, even from the other end of the Circle it had been intrusive, the base notes thumping out into the air, but she'd still been awake when it started, and she watched the goings-on with interest ever since.

Well, she thought wryly, Sheila will be delighted to have been proved right.