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

by Tara Ford

  Pat had seven children, fifteen grandchildren and six great-grandchildren and didn’t mind telling anyone about them. All of them. Far and wide, her family had spread out across the whole world. She had family in America, Japan and Canada, to mention just a few, and one of her grandchildren had spent several years in Antarctica, studying penguins. On the whole, she was a kind, fair and supportive supervisor even if the stone craft artists had to endure a weekly run-down of who was doing what and who was travelling where, in the world of Pat’s descendants.

  Golf... That was the issue. It had eluded her all day but suddenly, on the way home, it had come to her. When she’d asked Joe about the text message from Wayne, he had seemed a little edgy and forgetful. Had he really received a message from Wayne? How would she know? Who else could the message be from that might send him into a jittery mess when asked about it? Tiff swallowed hard as a queasy lump filled her throat. It was Georgie. It had to be. But how could she find out for sure? She could hardly ask to see the message. Their relationship had already been strained over the last week or so and it had all been Tiff’s fault. She feared that the subject of ‘Georgie’ had to be left well alone, for some time. Let things die down. Cool off. Maybe she could sneak a look at his phone when he was in the bath or sleeping. She shuddered as she pulled into the lay-by. It was wrong to distrust him. It was not right to go snooping around. Yet she had no choice – she had to know the truth. One way or another.

  “Hi babe.” Joe’s face beamed. “You’re late tonight.”

  Throwing her handbag on the sofa, Tiff removed her jacket. “Could do with a day off to be honest. Thought I’d get as much done today as possible.”

  “You deserve a day off – I’ll make you a coffee.” Joe stood up, kissed her on the top of her head and went through to the kitchen. “Made a lasagna for tea.”

  “Oh great, I fancy that. Have you had a good day?”

  “Usual kind of day – nothing much happens in the leisure industry on a Monday.”

  “Have you had a chance to… to reply to Wayne?”

  “Err…” Joe had his back turned and was busying himself making two coffees. “Damn – I knew there was something. I’ll… Do you know what? I think I’ll nip over to his house – that way I can reply to his face.”

  “OK, do you want me to come with you?”

  Joe turned sharply. “No babe, you relax. I’ll run a bath for you after tea. I’ll… err… I’ll be back before you know it.” Joe smiled and winked an eye. “Back in time to wash your back.”

  “OK.” Tiff forced a smile back but the doubting-queasiness had resurfaced. There was definitely something funny going on. Joe was still on edge at the slightest mention of the text message he received yesterday. It had to be Georgie and Tiff was going to find out for sure, at the first opportunity she could get to investigate his mobile phone.

  “Your bath is done,” Joe called down the stairs. “I haven’t put any bubble bath in it, in case you want to put one of your fizz-ball things in.”

  Tiff reached the top of the stairs. “They’re called bath bombs.”

  “OK, but they’re like fizzy balls aren’t they?”

  “Yes, I suppose they are. Anyway, you’d better get over to Wayne’s if you’re still going.”

  “I am. I’m going over there now. Are you getting in the bath yet? Do you want a hand removing your clothing?” Joe gave a suggestive smirk.

  “No I don’t,” she replied, slapping his behind. “Off you go.”

  “I’ll only be ten minutes max.” Joe began to descend the stairs. “Keep the water for me – but not too much of that fizzy stuff.”

  “OK, see you soon.”

  Standing just inside the bathroom door, Tiff listened for the front door closing. Then she sneaked across the landing to their bedroom, and hurried over to the window. Joe was just crossing the green, wearing just his work shirt and trousers. He walked through the gate of number eight, pressed the doorbell and stood waiting for an answer. Tiff hadn’t expected him to actually go over to Wayne’s house so maybe he was telling the truth and he had received a message from him about golf. Was it her who made him edgy with her questions all the time? Was Joe feeling suffocated and unable to be himself in case she accused him of anything? There was one way to find out. Joe wasn’t wearing his jacket and the likelihood of his phone still being in his jacket pocket was high.

  Racing down the stairs, she found his jacket hanging by the front door. She rifled through his pockets, inside and out. His phone wasn’t there. Hurrying through to the kitchen, she scanned the table, the kitchen worktops, any obvious places that he would leave his phone. It was nowhere to be seen. He had to have it on him still. Maybe in his trouser pocket. Or was it in the bedroom and she hadn’t noticed it when she was spying from the window. Racing back upstairs, she searched the bedroom. Nothing. Where could it be? Joe did not normally carry his phone in his trouser pockets and especially once he was at home. He usually had so much change jingling around in them that he had scratched the screens of his phones in the past. He couldn’t stand screen protectors as the tiny bubbles and imperfections annoyed him Again, things were looking suspicious as far as Tiff was concerned. Why would he be hiding his phone – even if he was now in Wayne’s house, supposedly arranging another game of golf? Actually – why didn’t he just text Wayne back? Then he wouldn’t have needed to go over to his house at all.

  Tiff grabbed a bath bomb from her small collection, unwrapped it and dropped it into the hot water. Instantly, the bomb began to fizz and she watched as pink froth exploded out from the violent blast of tiny bubbles. Rings of pink, red and white froth drifted outwards, across the water. The aroma of raspberries filled the room as she knelt down by the side of the bath, mesmerised by the constantly changing coloured circles of bubbles. Transfixed, she continued to watch. The bath bomb’s magical creations were relaxing to observe. They helped take her mind off other things. Bad things. Worrying things that just couldn’t be real. Could they?

  As the last specs of the bath bomb fizzed away to nothingness, Tiff pulled herself up from the floor, closed the bathroom door and locked it. She tied her hair up, got undressed and stepped into the softened water. Sliding down into the frothy bubbles, she closed her eyes and breathed in the fruity aroma. Ten minutes had passed since Joe had left the house. He was sure to be back any minute. She lay still as the frothy warm water surrounded her body. Still and quiet. Listening and waiting for the front door to open. Wondering if Joe had his phone with him, buried in his trouser pocket along with lots of loose change. It would be unusual if it were in there.

  Startled, Tiff opened her eyes wide. Joe was on the other side of the door, knocking and calling her.

  “Tiff – have you fallen asleep in there? Tiff.”

  “Oh yes, I must have. I’m getting out now.”

  “Sorry I’m so late back. Couldn’t get away from Wayne. Think he was a bit lonely, to be fair. Hayley’s on a long night shift. I expect that water is cold now.”

  Tiff hadn’t moved. The water had chilled somewhat and the thought of moving a muscle sent shivers through her. “Yes – it’s cold.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get a shower. I’ll make us a coffee. You coming down?”

  “Five minutes,” called Tiff, wondering how long she could stay there before she really grew cold. If she kept still, it was OK. But sooner or later she would get too cold. Dragging herself up, she quickly jumped out, grabbed the bath towel which had been draped over the radiator, and wrapped it round her. She began to tremble as she pulled the plug from the bath. Too cold. She had to dry herself and get dressed in her pyjamas and dressing gown as fast as she could.

  Joe had already prepared the drinks when Tiff reached the living room. “Did you sort the golf out?” She eyed his trouser pockets discreetly, looking for the bulge of his phone. She couldn’t see one.

  “Yeah – he wants to play on Saturday. Are you OK with that? I said I’d get back to him, you know, once I�
��d spoken to you.”

  “I don’t own you. You can do what you want.”

  Joe looked a little disappointed. “I wanted to check that we didn’t have any plans, that’s all.”

  “Oh we do. I’d forgotten. Well, not until the evening though, so you should be OK during the day. Surprised Wayne didn’t mention it.”

  Joe frowned and shook his head.

  Tiff let out a giggle. “Unless he doesn’t even know about it yet, either.”

  “I’m guessing he doesn’t then – never said a word to me.”

  “Hayley has invited us to a quiz night on Saturday – at the community centre down on Woodford Road.” Tiff sat down next to Joe and snuggled into him, wrapping her arm round his waist. Maybe she could delicately feel her way around his trousers without him noticing.

  “OK – sounds interesting.”

  “Hayley said it’s a good laugh. We can take some drink with us and they provide hot dogs and chips for a small fee.”

  “Cool, so that’s Saturday night sorted out. We were going to play early – about seven.”

  “In the morning?”

  “Yes, obviously. Wayne said it’s the best time to play. That way we can get home and have an afternoon nap. Well, that’s what Wayne does anyway.”

  “Oh, I see.” Tiff poked his side. “So that’s you pretty much, wrapped up for the whole day then.”

  “Looks like it.” Joe peered down and grinned. “Don’t mind do you?”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m pleased that you like playing golf. At least it’s something you can do. I know you miss your rugby games.

  “Yeah, not quite the same as getting into a rugby tackle though. Unless I come across a hefty squirrel, refusing to give me my ball back – that’s the only likely tackle I’d get into on the golf course.”

  Tiff laughed and rubbed a hand up and down his trouser leg. “I can just imagine that. You and a giant squirrel wrestling on the green.”

  Joe squeezed her closer to him and kissed the top of her head, as he always did. “I’d prefer to wrestle you on the green, on the bed, or anywhere you’d like.”

  “Joe Frey – go and get yourself showered and changed. You’re a sex maniac.”

  The sound of the water running from the shower and frequent splashing noises, indicated that it was safe for Tiff to search the bedroom once more. Joe’s clothing lay on the floor in a heap. She picked up his trousers and went through the pockets. Nothing. Apart from his wallet which had been secured in his back pocket by a small button and some loose change in the front. Stuffing the wallet back, she searched through the rest of his clothes – even feeling his socks for any lumps and peering into his shoes. Where was his phone? He always had it with him, in case there was a problem at the leisure centre. He didn’t want his staff to have his home number as he didn’t believe that they should be contacting him or Tiff for that matter, on their private number.

  Returning to the living room, she took her own phone from her bag and began to type a message to him. Fancy that wrestling match? Meet me in my bedroom at 10.30pm xx

  By nine o’clock, Joe and Tiff had settled down to watch a documentary on the TV about Antarctic penguins, which reminded Tiff of her boss, Pat and her large family. The washing and drying-up had been done, tomorrow’s lunch sorted for Tiff and she had also managed to reduce the ironing pile by several items although she didn’t normally like to have to do that in the evenings.

  “Did you get my text message?” Tiff gave a sultry stare.

  “No – what message?”

  “I sent you a message earlier, have you read it?” She raised her eyebrows provocatively and smiled.

  “No, what did it say?”

  “You’ll have to read it…” Seductively, she placed a finger in her mouth, sucked it and then pulled it out slowly. “And soon…”

  Joe looked at her puzzled and then laughed. “Just tell me. What are you up to?”

  “You’ll find out if you read your message.” She raised her eyebrows again and gently rubbed her wet finger around her partially opened mouth.

  “I think I’ve left it in the car babe. Tell me.”

  “Uh-uh, you’ll have to go and get it…” She smiled suggestively. “Go on…”

  “What – like this? I’m not dressed. I’m not going across the green in just a pair of shorts – Alvin might think I want to go running with him.”

  “Put your dressing gown on and run down to your car.”

  Joe sighed heavily. “Oh babe – can’t you just tell me.”

  The game was wearing thin and Tiff was starting to feel a little annoyed, if not a bit silly. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Why’s your phone in the car – you never leave it in the car?”

  “Don’t know – I just forgot it.”

  “What if someone has tried to ring you from work?”

  Joe perked up and pulled himself out of the chair. “That’s a good point. I’ll go and get it.”

  Joe entered the living room, puffing and panting. He’d ran down to his car and back. Wearing a pair of baggy tracksuit bottoms, a plain white t-shirt and his brown moccasin slippers, he stood there breathing rapidly. “Don’t know where it is… must have left it at work.”

  “That’s not like you, Joe Frey.”

  “I know… I… err… well, I can only think that I must have left it there.”

  “Here,” said Tiff, holding her own mobile out to him. “Phone work – see if someone’s seen it.”

  “Nah, it’s a bit late now. They’ll be shut in half an hour.”

  “You’ve still got time – call them. At least, that way, you won’t be worrying all night.”

  “I’m sure I would have just left it on my desk. I don’t really want to go bothering them about it now. They’ll be starting to clear up.”

  “Do you want me to give them a quick call for you?”

  Joe shook his head and screwed up his nose. “Nah, don’t bother babe. I’ll find it in the morning.” Dropping into the seat next to Tiff, he leant over and whispered in her ear. “You’ll have to tell me what that message was about now, won’t you?”

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter anymore. The moments gone to be honest with you.”

  Chapter 17

  Huh. Well that hadn’t gone down very well. Joe had gone to bed early, with a face like a rebuked child and Tiff was still no further in her quest to get a sneaky look through his phone. The following morning wasn’t any better either. But this time it was Tiff who moped around the house, getting ready to go to work with an air of disdain about her.

  Ha ha. I got your message. Sorry for being a miserable sod. Found my phone on my desk, as suspected. Love you xxxx

  Love you too xxxx and sorry for being a miserable moo this morning.

  She’d met her quota during the week and managed to secure the day off today. Friday was her favourite day and to have it off was a bonus, as it meant she had a long weekend to look forward to. Tiff had plans today. Plans to get up in her craft room and get her materials and tools sorted into drawers, stacked on to shelves, and the regularly used things, neatly positioned on the sizable table top. Afterwards, she was going shopping to the garden centre. She wanted a few ‘flowery’ plants for some empty patches in the front garden. If the weather was nice tomorrow, she would plant them in the morning while Joe was out playing golf. Then they were going out tomorrow night with Hayley and Wayne – weekend sorted. Sunday would be a housework catch-up day and a be-extra-nice-to-Joe day so that he would go round to Georgie’s and collect the much needed fence panel. Of course, Tiff would make a ‘Thank-you’ card for the woman, with restrained contempt.

  The sun was shining in a cloudless, blue sky so Tiff would have a picturesque view to look out upon while she organized and sorted through her stuff. Momentarily, she wondered whether she would see Georgie across the fields, walking her dog. She also speculated on the possibility of seeing Alvin cantering through the trees like a stallion dressed in a golden saddle. Whatever he or they
might get up to along the tree-lined paths, she didn’t care much today. She was on a mission and Alvin and/or Georgie could keep their own missions to themselves.

  Yet, when it came to it, Tiff did care. Her curiosity was far too great to be ignored. It was like she could go to her own private viewing in her craft room, any time she liked, and there would always be something to see.

  Wearing a peach coloured, ankle-length summer dress and white pumps, Georgie had walked along the pathway on the far left, with her dog, about half an hour ago. She had looked pretty, from a distance, and her long blonde hair had splayed out behind her as the wind blew gently through it.

  The craft table was piled high with boxes and crates, carrier bags and an ancient, red hand-luggage case, filled with patterned papers and coloured card. However, Tiff still managed to keep an eye on the window by peeping in between the boxes and crates. Keeping watch. Waiting for a glimpse of Georgie’s return or a sighting of the repulsive gold speedos flashing through the trees.

  It wasn’t long before Tiff’s curiosity awarded her. Sure enough, as if it was a regular TV soap, Alvin appeared from the right. Jogging along the pathway, his gold shorts flickered through the trees. Yet, he looked slightly different today. He didn’t have his binoculars hanging from his neck. He had a small rucksack on his back, which bounced up and down freely, as he gained momentum. He ran past the back gardens of Sycamore Close and disappeared up the pathway to the left. Now and again, Tiff could just see his gold shorts glisten in the sunshine.