Calling All Neighbours (Calling All... Book 4)

by Tara Ford

  “Georgie was all over you last night.” Too late, she’d blurted it out.

  Joe turned and shook his head worriedly. “That was embarrassing. She wouldn’t leave me alone.”

  “The more you talked to her, the worse she got.”

  “I know. Look, if you’re worried that I have any sort of attraction to her, you’d be completely wrong.” Joe looked uncomfortable.

  “No… I don’t,” Tiff lied. “But don’t you think you might have made her worse?”

  “I felt uncomfortable babe. I didn’t know what to do. I knew you wouldn’t like it. I was talking to her about us – you and me – in the hope that she would get the message, loud and clear.”

  “Bloody cheek. Trying it on with you, right in front of me.”

  “I don’t think she was really trying it on babe. I think she’s just a bit over-friendly.”

  Tiff sighed. “Oh dear, you don’t see it do you. She fancies you and she had the nerve to flirt with you, right in front of me.”

  “Well, you might have seen it differently from your angle. I showed no interest in her little remarks or sexual innuendos.”

  “There you are,” scoffed Tiff. “You’ve just said it. She was flirting with you. Sexual innuendos? It wasn’t my imagination then.”

  “Oh – I don’t know,” he huffed. “The point is – I am not interested in her and I made it abundantly clear. I know I did.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  Joe poured the boiling water into two prepared mugs. Stirring the coffee mindlessly, his expression was one of frustration. Peering up he turned to look at Tiff. “Look – I don’t want to get into any arguments about that woman next door.”

  “Neither do I. It’s just that…” Tiff thought hard for a moment. There was so much that she knew about the woman already, yet she couldn’t bring herself to reveal anything. It was awkward and she wouldn’t have known where to start. After all, Joe already thought that she had an obsession with her craft room and the view. If only he knew. “Well… it’s just that I really don’t think she likes me at all. I get the feeling that she is trying to upset me somehow.”

  “Why do you say that?” Joe carried the two mugs over to the table and sat down, an inquisitive expression replacing the look of frustration.

  “She hardly said two words to me all night. And when she did she grunted at me, rather than talk to me. And why did she have to make such a show of hanging on to your arm every five minutes? She deliberately tried to embarrass me about the crisps in my hair as well.”

  “She was drunk – really drunk,” Joe replied, awkwardly.

  “Sounds like you’re trying to defend her.”

  “Don’t be silly. She was pissed by the end of the evening – you must have seen the way she staggered out of the house.”

  “Oh yes. Kissing everyone goodbye on the way.”

  Joe sighed heavily. “Well then, there you are. She could hardly stand upright – probably why she kept hanging on to me.”

  “Didn’t need to kiss you though.” Tiff knew that she now sounded like a jealous partner but she couldn’t help it. She had to vent her feelings. Clear the air.

  “Tiff,” Joe stared pleadingly, into her eyes. “She kissed everyone – she was hardly going to leave me out, was she?”

  “Didn’t kiss me – in fact, she deliberately bypassed me and went straight to Hayley.”

  “Well, I don’t know about any of that and… and I can’t believe we’re getting into an argument about her this morning.”

  “We’re not arguing. I’m just stating a few facts but you’re trying to turn a blind eye to it all. And it’s not morning – it’s the middle of the afternoon.”

  Joe tutted. “Afternoon then. And what am I turning a blind eye to?” The tone in his voice had risen.

  “Georgie’s infatuation with you.”

  “Good luck to her – I couldn’t really give a shit what she thinks. On the other hand, I do give a damn about what you think. It’s all becoming a bit tiresome though babe.” He stood up, grabbed his coffee and marched through to the living room. Flicking the TV on, he sat down and stared at it, expressionless.

  Tiff hated herself. Why had she made such a fuss? Now she’d caused an atmosphere between them. She knew that he only had eyes for her. Once again, her lack of confidence and self-worth had reigned over their relationship. If she carried on like this she would be guaranteed to lose the love of her life, one day. Following him through to the living room, she sat next to him and rubbed her hand up and down his back. “I’m sorry. I felt a bit left out, that’s all. I know you wouldn’t encourage her. I do love you.”

  “Love you too,” said Joe, turning to kiss her softly on the lips. “More than you know. You have no idea.”

  Chapter 12

  The week was whizzing by. Joe had managed to convince Lee to swap a shift so that he could play golf on Friday – weather permitting. It hadn’t been a good week for weather at all. Constant downpours, dreary grey days and a chill in the air had turned the early part of May into, what felt like, the return of winter. One thing was for sure though – at least Tiff didn’t have to obsess over the view from her craft room.

  Morning sweetie, hope you have a nice day at work. I was wondering if you fancied having a girlie shopping day with me on Saturday – I’ve got the whole day off! What do you think? While the cats are away (working, hee hee) the mice can play (ha ha). Hays xx

  Tiff had never had many friends and certainly not a close friend, since leaving school. The other women at the studio, where she worked, were just colleagues and any school friends she’d had in the past, had drifted away, as they usually do. She had always struggled to bond with people and make lasting friendships. It wasn’t that she was aloof or ignorant – far from it – it was more a case of keeping herself to herself, politely declining invitations and smiling her way out of most things. Yet since exchanging mobile numbers with Hayley, last Saturday evening, she was beginning to feel different about friendships. She was starting to welcome Hayley’s efforts to kindle a relationship. She believed in this incipient companionship. Hayley had texted several times over the week. Firstly, asking Tiff if she had a hangover like she did. Then she had texted about the miserable weather and how lucky they’d been to have their first barbecue of the year, last week, when it felt like summer had arrived and yesterday, she had texted about Alvin Snodgrass. She had remarked on his jogging attire (OMG! Have you seen Alvin when he goes out running?) and how he went out, whatever the weather, wearing the same skimpy pants and vests. The only difference being that he had his binoculars draped round his neck, in a Sainsbury’s plastic carrier bag when it was raining.

  I would really like that. Thank you for asking me. See you Saturday, Tiff. Tiff paused before sending the text. Then she added two kisses, just like Hayley had done. xx

  So that would be the weekend gone. The broken fence would have to wait until the following weekend. On Sunday, Joe’s parents were coming to see the house. Tiff felt a little nervous about them coming. She couldn’t help but be shy when she saw them. She never knew what to say, what to do, how to talk to them or whether she was being polite enough. She’d met Joe’s parents on several occasions, the last time being the funeral. Joe’s grandad had sadly passed away over the last Christmas period and Tiff and Joe had gone to stay at his parent’s house overnight. It had been as stressful a time for Tiff as it had been for Joe. Tiff had to meet his grandma, aunt, cousin and his not so nice wife, his younger sister (who had seemed a little self-conscious and preoccupied about her teeth) and two older brothers, one of whom had flown home from Germany. Tiff had tried to keep a low profile during the whole affair, opting to be the taxi-service, gate-keeper (ensuring Joe’s grandma’s house was locked when everyone left for the funeral) and tea-maker during the wake. Yet, no matter how daunting the whole episode had been for Tiff, she had liked Joe’s family and particularly his sister, Emma. Emma seemed to be somewhat similar to herself, in that she w
as self-effacing, lacking in confidence and a little shy.

  In contrast to Joe, Tiff was an only child. Her parents were very old fashioned and she had had a strict, but harmonious upbringing. Her father was a mathematician at a top university and looked like one too. His tufty moustache, unruly beard and straggly, mid-length, greying hair coupled with an array of tank tops and checked shirts ensured that he upheld his Albert Einstein image. Tiff’s mum, in comparison, was more conventional. As a one-hour-a-day dinner lady, in her local junior school, her career was starkly dissimilar to her husbands. Both Tiff’s mum and dad were surprisingly introverted people, considering their jobs were so vastly public orientated. Keeping themselves to themselves, just as Tiff had always done, they spent all of their free time nurturing and tending to their expansive, well-loved, immaculately landscaped garden. Tiff loved her parents dearly and valued time spent with them, each time she returned for a visit – even if she did have to get her old muddy wellies on and join them in the garden.

  Friday’s were Tiff’s favourite day of the week. The weekend was imminent and the upbeat atmosphere at the studio was always fun to be a part of. Friday’s always went quicker than any other day.

  Looking out of the bedroom window, Tiff marvelled at the early morning sun lighting up Sycamore Close in a vibrant orange glow. Having dressed in a pair of blue skinny jeans and a lilac viola print blouse, she pulled her denim plimsolls on and then trotted down the stairs. “Looks like you’ll have the perfect day for golf,” she said as she entered the dining room.

  Joe was sitting at the table, dressed in black chinos, a collared pink t-shirt and an old pair of black trainers. “Luckily, yes. Tiff…” he hesitated, “do you think I look all right for golf, wearing these?” He lifted a foot out from underneath the table.

  Nodding her head, she grinned. “They look OK. You can’t be expected to have all the correct gear for golf when you’ve never played before. Wayne said you could wear trainers didn’t he?”

  “Yeah, but I should have at least got some new ones.”

  “They’re fine. If you really like it, you could always buy some proper golf shoes later.”

  “Sure, yes, OK – I’m going to get off now, we start at eight.” Joe stood up and straightened his trousers. “And if I really like it, you could get me my own set of golf clubs for Christmas.” Joe grinned, cheesily. “They’ll only cost you about three hundred.”

  “Three hundred pounds? You might get them for the next three Christmases then.” Kissing him on the lips, Tiff continued. “Have a lovely day and I hope that you really enjoy it. Think of me sitting in the studio, peering out of the windows at the glorious sunshine.”

  “I will. Have a good day yourself. Love you quite a bloody lot Miss Cuthbert – bye.”

  Pulling into the lay-by, Tiff peered across the green as she pulled the handbrake up and turned the engine off. She didn’t know if Joe was home yet as he’d gone off in Wayne’s car early this morning. She thought he might be, as the time was fast approaching four thirty. After all, how long did it take to play 18 holes of golf? Actually, she had no idea.

  As she strolled around the green she admired their white picket fencing from afar. It was the start to the overall new appearance of the front of their house. Once they had new windows installed and a coat of paint applied to the brick frontage, it would look delightful. Tiff had wanted yellow for the front, as it was her favourite colour but Joe’s horrified expression had put a halt to that idea. OK, maybe she would be happy with white to match the fence.

  Pushing her key into the front door, she stepped into the house and paused. Holding her breath, she listened. The sound of a woman’s voice, giggling, had stopped her in her tracks. It was a strangely familiar noise. She’d heard it before and the vexatious laughter that was growing in intensity held Tiff rooted to the spot in fear. Her heartbeat quickened. Her cheeks flushed and a sickly saliva filled her mouth. Freeing her anchored legs, she walked hesitantly, through the lounge towards the dining room. A babble of words. More laughter. This time it was a duo of mirth. The bass tones of Joe’s laughter. The nauseous high pitch of Georgie’s.

  Entering the room, Tiff froze as her eyes darted across to the kitchen where Joe and Georgie stood. Each one leaning against a kitchen unit facing each other. Tiff couldn’t stop the incensed curl of her top lip rising, as she glared at Georgie with a deep antipathy. Wearing frayed denim shorts, which exposed the lower half of her bottom cheeks, a baggy vest-style see-through top over an underwired, bright yellow bikini top and purple trainers, Georgie stared back, wide-eyed. The laughter had stopped.

  Opposite Georgie, stood Joe. Practically naked. With a bath towel wrapped round his waist, his wet, spiky hair and gorgeous, muscular frame made him look appealing and Georgie looked delighted to be his audience. Tiff was only thankful that Georgie was not wet too.

  “Babe… H… Hi... We… err… I…” Joe stuttered, as a look of fear and regret washed over his face. “The… err... the dog… the fence.”

  Dropping her mouth open to speak, Tiff tried to say ‘what’ but nothing would come out. Her voice had left her. Her legs had solidified on the spot again. Her arms hung down by her sides, unable to move, not knowing what to do. Should she fold her arms? Should she wave them around in the air and scream? Should she just gather her whole body together, turn around and run? Or should she lunge at Georgie and claw her beautiful mascaraed eyes out?

  “Babe, look… sorry. I know this must… err… well, it probably looks a bit… err.” It was clear that Joe was desperately fighting to find the right words.

  “Looks?” Tiff managed to drag the word from her throat.

  “Anyway,” interrupted Georgie, brightly. “I’d better go –”

  “Yes. Time for you to go.” The words were beginning to flow from Tiff’s mouth more freely now.

  “I… I need to get my dog,” said Georgie, pointing to the patio doors. “Can I?”

  Joe remained glued to the kitchen unit. Staring down at his bare toes, he wiggled the ones on his right foot.

  “Get it.” Flicking her glare from Joe to Georgie and then back again, Tiff walked over to the door and opened it. The big, black brute bounded towards the door and stopped. Tiff’s heart beat rapidly. The dog looked much bigger than she had remembered. “What’s it doing in here anyway?”

  “Buster… come here, naughty boy.” Georgie leant over and grabbed the dog by its collar. Her pert bottom cheeks were exposed more as she pulled the dog towards her, clipped the lead on to its studded collar and pointed a finger in its face. “You are a naughty boy.” Pulling herself upright, she adjusted the cups of her bikini top with her free hand and then pulled the dog into the house. “Sorry about that. I’m sure Joe will explain. Thanks again – I’ll be off now. Nice talking to you Joe. Sorry and goodbye Tiffany.”

  Following Georgie and her dog to the front door, Tiff grabbed hold of the door handle as they passed through. “And it’s, Tiff – not Tiffany.”

  Georgie shot back a scornful look as she went outside. She turned and sneered before walking off down the pathway, her partly exposed buttocks tightening and stretching as she went.

  Tiff slammed the door shut and leaned against the hall wall. Tears filled her eyes. Her heart hurt. She had to go back through to the kitchen. She couldn’t cry. Not yet.

  “Tiff.” Joe had appeared at the living room door. “Babe – that must have looked really bad.” Edging closer, he raised his arms to cuddle her. “Come here.”

  “No,” said Tiff and brushed past him. “You can talk to me in the kitchen – I need a coffee.”

  “Let me make it for you.” Joe followed her back into the kitchen.

  “Get dressed Joe. You must be feeling a bit cold in that damp towel.” Tiff scoffed, as she flicked the kettle on.

  “OK – I’ll be back in a minute babe. I need to talk to you about this.”

  “Do you?”

  By the time Tiff had made a coffee, just for herself, which s
he knew was a bit childish, Joe arrived in the dining room, fully dressed. Sitting down next to her, he awkwardly fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. “Babe… I know you’re pissed off… but I can explain exactly what happened.”

  Looking up, Tiff eyed him incredulously. “Don’t tell me – she dropped by whilst out walking her dog, wearing half a bikini and barely a pair of shorts and you invited her in for a coffee and a friendly chat.”

  “No, it wasn’t like that at all. Will you just hear me out babe?”

  Tiff raised a sneering smile at him. “Or were you having a competition to see who could look the most naked – without being naked?”

  “Tiffany.” Joe peered at her, despairingly. “Please – listen.”

  “It’s Tiff – not Tiffany. You can tell me later. I’m not interested now – I’m too tired. I need a lie-down.” She stood up, grabbed her coffee from the table, walked out of the room and headed for their bedroom. She really did need a lie-down. To cry. She needed a chance to think things through. Find a way that the situation she’d encountered would be perfectly plausible.

  Waking from what felt like only a brief moment of sleep, Tiff opened her eyes. Peering at the clock she guessed she’d only been asleep for about half an hour at the most. She’d laid on the bed earlier, trying to make excuses for the situation between Joe and Georgie. Then she’d embellished her hopeless ideas, turning them into seedy little clandestine meetings or even a sordid act of wanton fornication, having been spurred on by frustration and their sexual attraction to each other. But her creativity had then worsened with thoughts that they were simply having a full-on affair behind her back.

  Joe hadn’t been to the bedroom once. She had been there for over an hour now. Why hadn’t he come up to see what she was doing or how she was?

  Guilt.