The New Neighbours (44 page)

Nick shrugged. “He doesn't look very happy today,” he remarked as they got out of the car and rang the doorbell.

For some time there was no reply and so he pushed the bell again. At last, a sleepy voice came down the entryphone. “Yeah? Who's that?”

“Nick Richmond, Madeleine's dad. Is she there? Can you open the door?”

The door buzzed as the catch released and Nick pushed it open. Clare went in ahead of him and wrinkled her nose in distaste. “It stinks of beer and smoke,” she murmured. They went up the stairs into the living room where the debris from the party greeted them. There were beer cans everywhere, on the bookshelves and table and lying on the floor. Dirty glasses balanced precariously on ledges and the edge of the fireplace, and ashtrays overflowed on to the floor. Dean was standing surveying the scene as if he'd only just noticed it himself. He was dressed only in a pair of boxer shorts, and his hair was tousled as if from sleep. “Sorry if we woke you,” Nick said with gentle irony. “Is Madeleine not up yet?”

“Doesn't look like it!” remarked Clare looking round at the devastation.

Dean belatedly realised that Mad's mother was there too, and said hastily, “Sorry, we had rather a late night, there was a party…”

“So I see,” Nick said wryly.

“I'll get dressed,” Dean said and diving for the safety of his bedroom, disappeared.

“Looks as if she celebrated in style,” commented her mother. “The place is a tip and smells like a brewery.” She looked into the kitchen. “It's no better in there.” She put down her handbag and took off her coat.

“What are you going to do?” Nick asked.

“First I'm going to make us a cup of coffee, if I can find any, and thenI'm going to see about clearing some of this mess.”

“Oh, no,” her husband said firmly. “The coffee's a great idea, but there's no way you're going to be the one to clear this lot up. That's down to them.”

Clare went into the kitchen and found the kettle. There were no clean mugs, but while the kettle boiled she washed up a couple and found the coffee and a dreg of milk in a carton in the fridge. When she had made the coffee she carried a mug out to Nick and then prepared to take one upstairs to Madeleine's room.

“Is that a good idea?” Nick asked.

“What, taking Maddo a coffee?”

“Could prove embarrassing?” suggested Nick.

“Oh, I see. Well, I'll knock first.” Clare continued on her way up the second flight of stairs. When she reached the landing, she saw two bedroom doors open, Charlie's and Mad's. Charlie's room was tidy enough but the bed was stripped and the bedclothes were draped over the radiator. Obviously no one had slept in there last night. In Madeleine's room the bed was roughly made, duvet pulled up askew, the usual heap of clothes on the chair and the desk was piled high with books and papers. There were two dirty coffee mugs on the windowsill, one with a week's growth of mould in the bottom, and the stereo system glowed like the flight deck of an aeroplane, but there was no sign of Madeleine. Clare shrugged and sipped the cup of coffee herself. Either Maddo had got up early for some reason, or she'd not slept there, and presumably would be home soon.

Clare went back downstairs to find Dean had reappeared. He was emerging from the kitchen with a mug of coffee as well.

“She's not here,” Clare informed them. “Maddo's not upstairs. Do you know where she is, Dean?”

“No, sorry. She was here when I went to bed last night.”

“Well, she can't be far,” said Clare. “She was expecting us after all. We're supposed to be taking her out for lunch.”

“Looks like some party,” Nick remarked to Dean. “Whatever time did you finish?”

“Not sure,” mumbled Dean. “Quite late.” The door behind him opened and a bleary-eyed Pepper appeared.

“Oh,” she said, “hallo.”

“Oh, you're awake, Pep,” said Dean. He waved a hand at Nick and Clare. “This is Mad's parents, only she's not here.”

At that moment they heard the front door open and Madeleine came up the stairs, carrying a pot plant under each arm.

“Mum, Dad, you're early,” she said, putting the plants down on the floor with relief, and giving them each a hug

“Happy birth-yesterday,” said Clare returning the hug. Maddo looked awful, her face was very pale and her eyes stood out huge and dark against the drawn pallor of her skin, but Clare said nothing. Time enough for that later, anyway maybe it was just the effects of burning the candle at both ends.

“Can see you had a good party,” Nick said cheerfully.

“Looks awful, doesn't it?” Mad said. “We'll have to have a grand clean up today, Dino. Oh, hi Pep, didn't see you there? Any sign of Cirelle or Ben yet?” The words flowed out of her, as if she were afraid that something might be asked or said if there were a silence. “You've got a coffee? Great. Think I'll just make myself one, if you don't mind. It's bloody cold out there.” She rubbed her hands together as if to prove her point and disappeared into the kitchen.

Re-boiling the kettle she gave herself a huge mental shake. She'd entirely forgotten that her parents were coming today, hadn't given them a thought until she'd seen the car parked outside. Now she would have to keep being cheerful and normal all day, and the last thing she felt was cheerful and normal.

“Nice plants,” remarked her mother when she went back into the living room. Dean had cleared space on the sofa and spread the blue woollen throw over it again so that Mr and Mrs Richmond had somewhere to sit. Mad perched on the arm, nursing her coffee mug.

“Yes, well, I got them for the neighbours,” she admitted. “Like, a sort of peace offering.”

“Oh Maddo! I hope you weren't too noisy,” cried her mother.

“A bit. Look, Mum, I think I'll just take them round, OK? I shan't be long.” Madeleine put down her mug and picking up the two plants disappeared downstairs.

Leaving one plant on her own front step, she went first to the Colbys with the other.

“Yes?” Gerald Colby's disembodied voice came from the entryphone.

“Mr Colby? It's Madeleine Richmond from next door.”

“Is it indeed? What do you want, young lady?” His voice was crisp, but not exactly angry. Mad didn't like being addressed as young lady, but she was on a bridge-building mission so she simply pulled a face at the closed door and said, “I've come to apologise about last night.”

“I see, well you'd better come up.” The door catch released with a buzz, and she went in. Gerald was waiting for her in the living room, and as she topped the stairs, Sheila came down from the floor above.

Before either of them could speak Mad extended the plant and said quickly, “I've brought you this from all of us, to say we're very sorry if we disturbed you last night.”

“Disturbed!” Sheila Colby almost screeched, “It was a bit more than that!”

“Now, Sheila,” Gerald remonstrated gently, “Madeleine's come to apologise.”

“Hmm,” Sheila said and then went on more calmly. “Well, you certainly made the most frightful noise. That music was head-banging!”

“I'm sorry,” Mad said again, still holding out the plant. “It was a birthday party, like, a one-off, you know?”

Sheila moved nearer and took the plant, saying with as much grace as she could muster, “ Well, thank you for coming to apologise, and for the azalea. I don't suppose you'll be having another party.”

Mad, made no comment at the last remark, but she hadn't quite finished. She was happy enough, she supposed, to apologise for the noise, but she felt that the Colbys had been over the top, calling the police. “I'm sorry you felt you had to call the police, though,” she said. “You could have rung to ask us to turn it down.”

“Rung?” exclaimed Sheila. “We did nothing but ring, but the phone must have been off the hook. It was always engaged. I was going to come round…”

“But I wouldn't let her,” Gerald interrupted, “and then the police turned up. But we didn't call them.”

“Oh, I see.” Madeleine felt at a loss. “Sorry, I thought it was you. The policeman said it was our neighbours.”

“You do have other neighbours,” pointed out Gerald.

“It could have been anyone,” said Sheila with asperity, “I should think you woke the whole Circle!”

Madeleine decided she'd said all there was to say, “Yeah, well, whatever. We'll try to keep the noise down from now.”

Gerald walked down to the door with her. “Don't worry too much about Sheila,” he said, “she was upset last night, but she's got over it… or she will have soon!”

Mad went back to her own doorstep and picked up the other azalea. Finding out that it wasn't the dreaded Sheil who had rung the police had rather taken the wind from her sails. It must have been Shirl! Oh well, better get on with it. She rang the bell of number eight. The door opened almost immediately and she was faced with Melanie.

“Oh, it's you,” she said. “What do you want?”

“I came to apologise for keeping you awake last night,” Madeleine began.

“And so you should,” snapped Melanie. “What a bloody racket! You woke the kids, you woke me, you woke my parents and I imagine you woke the entire neighbourhood!”

“Yes, well I'm sorry,” began Madeleine again, but Melanie cut her off.

“Well sorry's not good enough, see? None of us got a wink of sleep.

Once the kids were awake that was it. It was me who called the police and I'll do it again. It's not so bad for me, I don't really live here, but my parents don't need that sort of bloody noise next door. OK?” Melanie thrust her face at Madeleine, who stepping back held out the plant.

“I brought this for your parents. Perhaps you'd give it to them.” Melanie almost snatched the plant and then slammed the door, and Mad went home, wishing she'd been able to see one of the Redwoods. Perhaps it would have been better if she'd left it to Cirelle to make peace with them as she worked there, still it was too late now.

When she reached her own living room again, she found Dean and Pepper making some effort to clear the place up. Nick Richmond looked at his watch as she came in. “Look, I've booked a table for one o'clock at the Royal Oak at Belstone St Andrew,” he said. “It'll take us half an hour to get there, we ought to be leaving.”

Mad looked round at the half-cleared room, but Pepper said, “Don't worry about this place, Mad, we'll sort it, OK? Ben and Cirelle'll be up soon, OK?”

“Thanks Pep,” Mad said gratefully. “I'll just go up and change, Dad, I won't be a minute.”

“Maddo,” her mother called after her, “we said to ask Dan too, if you wanted to. Is he coming?”

For a moment the question hung in the air and then Madeleine, pausing on the stairs, called back over her shoulder, “No. No thanks, Mum, he isn't.” Her footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Nick turned to Dean. “Has something happened?”

Dean looked uncomfortable and said awkwardly, “I don't think they're going out any more,” and then he escaped into the kitchen to help Pepper wash up the glasses.

“She'll tell us if she wants to,” Clare said softly, whilst thinking, that must explain why Maddo looks so grey today.

Within minutes Madeleine returned, clothes changed and ready to go out with her parents, and the three of them went downstairs and out to the car. As they were getting in, Shirley came running out of number eight.

“Mad,” she called. “Madeleine, thank you so much for the lovely azalea you brought round this morning.”

Mad looked awkward. “I'm sorry about the noise,” she began, but Shirley interrupted her.

“And I'm sorry about the police,” she said. “It was only a party after all, and you don't do it every day. It's just that Melanie… well you know how she's been lately. She's a bit highly strung and she over-reacted.”

“The police!” echoed Clare faintly, and Shirley, realising she had put her foot in it, went on hurriedly, “So don't think about it anymore, Mad. And thank you again for the plant, it's lovely, and David can put it in his garden once it's finished flowering in the house.” She smiled at Clare and Nick who had frozen in the act of getting into the car. “Have a nice day,” she said, and bustled back into the house, knowing she'd said too much.

The Richmonds got into the car and drove out of the Circle in silence. As they drove along Dartmouth Road, Nick asked quietly, “What police, Maddo?” He glanced at his daughter's face in the rear view mirror and said, “You can tell us about it at lunch.” For a moment he had to pull into the side of the road to let a speeding ambulance pass, and he turned round to look at her. “Cheer up, love,” he said encouragingly. “Whatever it is, we'll get things sorted.”

The Royal Oak was an eighteenth-century coaching inn, long and low with its old stables still at the back, and a garden where it served meals in the summer time. Today the fire was alight in the huge fireplace, and the bar was full of Sunday lunchtime drinkers. The restaurant was at the far end of the long room and they had to push their way through the crowd to find their table by the window.

Once settled, with drinks ordered, Clare reached out and took Madeleine's hand. “Maddo, darling, you look so unhappy. Is there anything that Dad and I can do?”

Mad shook her head miserably. “No, Mum, thanks. Dan and I split up last night, that's all. I'll get over it once I've got used to it, you know?” Her mother nodded sympathetically. “Poor timing, on your birthday,” she hazarded, hoping Mad might say more but not wanting to pry.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” shrugged Mad, and it flashed in her mind how odd it was that she could talk so easily to Madge whom she hardly knew, and somehow couldn't to her parents whom she loved dearly.

“Maybe it'll all blow over, whatever it was,” suggested Clare.