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

by Tara Ford

  “I think so,” Tiff replied, doubtfully. “Well, I do hope so.”

  “I can wait here for you, if you’d like me to.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ll call for help if I get stuck.” Tiff let out a short laugh and went through the gate as Lilly held it open.

  Apart from a couple of horses lazing in the sun, in the distance, the fields were empty. Along the pathways, the trees stood motionless and not a hint or a flicker of gold pants could be seen anywhere. In the distance the river sparkled under the blazing sun and just for a moment, Tiff thought about how lucky she was to have such a beautiful scene, right at the back of her house. There were just a certain couple of things that spoiled it.

  She carried the bags to the back of her own fence and emptied them over the side. She had never been on this side of the fence before and it seemed quite odd to be looking at her house from the other side.

  Navigating her way back through the maze of pathways and bubbling, fizzing, cascading water, Tiff politely tapped on the back door before entering Lilly’s house.

  Lilly was sitting in her antiquated dining room, sipping at a cup of tea. “Found your way back, dearie?”

  “Yes, just about.” Tiff glanced at the drink in Lilly’s hands and then quickly stole her eyes away from it. “I’ll go and get some more bags. Are you sure you don’t mind me going through your back garden?”

  “Not at all, dearie. I don’t mind at all. You carry on.”

  Tiff smiled weakly and walked through to the front garden.

  Joe was still busy trimming as she stepped outside. She grabbed two more bags and turned on her heels, entering the gloom of the hallway again.

  It was thirsty work, trimming hedges and karting the cuttings backwards and forwards through Lilly’s house and exceptionally beautiful back garden, yet Tiff had noticed how both her and Joe hadn’t been offered a drink of any description, not even a glass of water.

  Joe placed the trimmer on the lawn and moped his brow. “Think that’s it,” he said, wiping his brow again as beads of sweat continued to trickle down his forehead.

  “Good.” Tiff rolled her eyes upwards. “That’s nine bags now.” She turned her head to make sure that Lilly wasn’t lingering in her hallway. “And not a hint of a cup of tea, or a cold drink. Not even a drop of water.”

  Joe shrugged. “Not to worry – we can nip home for one, before we go to Betty’s.”

  Tiff nodded and turned the corners of her mouth down. “Yes OK, but first, I’ve saved a couple of bags for you to take through and I’ll take the last two.” Tiff began to pick up the last cuttings from the pavement.

  “Why?” Joe’s reddening face frowned.

  “You have got to see her garden.”

  “OK,” he said, indifferently. “Let’s go.”

  “Thank you very much,” said Lilly, holding on to the front door frame. “It looks absolutely wonderful. I can see the close again.” She smiled warmly and watched as Tiff and Joe strolled away with aching backs, burning skin and parched throats.

  “Hang on a sec,” said Tiff, as they reached Betty’s house. “I’ll quickly tell Betty that we’ll be round as soon as we’ve had a bit of lunch and a drink.”

  “OK, I’ll go and put the kettle on.” Joe grinned and pinched her bottom as she opened Betty’s gate.

  “Oi.” She giggled. “Behave.” As she trotted up the path to Betty’s door, she smirked at Joe who was now walking up their pathway.

  “See you in a minute,” he mouthed, across the gardens.

  “Hello Betty.” Tiff grinned at the friendly little face peeping around the door. “We – as in me and Joe, will be round to clean the birds in about half an hour. Would that be OK?”

  “Oh, thank you Tiff. That is so very kind of you.”

  “Don’t mention it. How’s Cyril? Have you heard any more?”

  Betty opened the door further and smiled. “I called the hospital this morning – he’s doing very well.” She paused in thought for a moment. “I was going to visit him this afternoon. You don’t suppose I could give you a key, do you?”

  “Err… yes, if that’s OK with you, but will you be around long enough to show us what we need to do?”

  “Oh yes, I was going to go over there about three o’clock. That should be plenty of time.”

  “OK, thanks. We’re just having a bit of lunch and a much needed drink, then we’ll be round.”

  Betty nodded her head and grinned. “I heard you over there this morning.” She turned her head and peered at the bushes. “It looks much better now. Is Lilly pleased with it?”

  “Seems to be.”

  “Good. You and Joe are such good, helpful people.”

  Tiff shrugged her shoulders. “Thank you, right, I’d better get going. We’ll be round in the next half an hour.”

  “Thank you Tiff.”

  “You’re more than welcome.” And Tiff really meant it as far as Betty was concerned.

  Chapter 22

  “Told Betty we’d be there in half an hour.”

  “Cool,” said Joe, placing a cold drink in front of her.

  “Can’t believe that Lilly didn’t even offer us a drink.” Tiff gulped down the fresh orange juice quickly. “She had one herself, while we were there – I saw her drinking tea.”

  “Maybe she didn’t think to offer us one.”

  “She could see how hot you were. At the very least she could have offered you one. Or some water at least.”

  “Well it’s done now. It doesn’t matter.”

  Joe strolled back to the table carrying two plates loaded with sandwiches and crisps. “Bet you’re glad you didn’t go to your mum and dad’s today,” he said sarcastically.

  “Huh – would have been offered a drink.”

  “Well I’m glad that you didn’t and even if we are doing jobs for other people, I’m having a good time because you’re here.”

  Tiff feigned a gagging reflex. “You are such a smoothie, Joe Frey.”

  He picked up his cheese and ham sandwich and shoved almost half of it into his mouth as his phone tinkled in the pocket of his shorts. He stopped chewing momentarily and gulped. Rolling his eyes, he shook his head and then continued to chew the rest of the sandwich, filling his cheeks.

  “Are you going to see who it is?”

  “Wayne,” Joe mumbled through a full mouth. “Golf probably.”

  “How do you know that?” Tiff eyed him suspiciously. “Didn’t you sort that out last night?”

  “Thought we did.” Joe gulped again and quickly drew his phone from his pocket. He peered down at it, moved his thumb around the screen and popped it back into his pocket. “Wayne, asking if I have a hangover.” Joe grinned sheepishly and stuffed another large piece of sandwich in his mouth, followed quickly by several crisps.

  Tiff looked down at her plate and picked up a single crisp. She popped into her mouth and sucked at the salty flavour. “Aren’t you going to reply then?”

  “Tiff – what is this? Every time my phone goes off, I get the third degree.” Joe gulped hard again. “I’ll reply to him later. I’m enjoying eating my sandwich at the moment. Come on, eat yours. We’ve got to start again in 20 minutes.”

  Tiff sighed and picked up her sandwich. She had suddenly gone right off her food again.

  “Come through,” said Betty, leading the way out to the back garden. She turned and smiled as they reached the first aviary. “Could I just tell you what needs to be done – rather than actually help. I’ve just changed, ready to go to the hospital.”

  “Yes, of course. We didn’t expect you to do any of it anyway.” Joe smiled back.

  “You look lovely Betty,” said Tiff, admiringly.

  Betty brushed-up pretty well for a woman of her age. Dressed in a Vivien of Holloway navy and white polka-dot circle skirt, a three-inch-wide, white, elastic belt and a white raglan blouse, she looked like a 1950s model, albeit an ageing model. Her tiny heeled, white ballet pumps completed her look.

>   “Oh,” she said in a high pitched voice, “thank you, this is my best outfit. I thought I’d wear it to the hospital today.” Betty lovingly brushed the skirt down and twisted the belt around her waist.

  “Cyril will be delighted to see you. You look radiant.”

  Betty’s cheeks coloured, through her already powdered pink face. “Why thank you, Tiff, you are such a sweet girl. Do come in,” she said, opening the aviary door.

  Tiff and Joe followed Betty into the foul-smelling aviary.

  “Now, it is a bit whiffy in here, I’m afraid. The poor birds are long overdue a clean.” She bent over and picked up two scoops. “Cyril didn’t get anything done really, the other day, before… his heart went.” She smiled falteringly. “Anyway, these are for collecting the mess on the floor of the cages and these…” she grabbed a packet of gravel sheets, “are clean sheets. That’s all there is to it really.”

  “What about food and water?” Joe asked as he took the scoops and sheets.

  “I came in early this morning. I can do their food and water each day. It’s just all the scooping out and reaching inside the cages that I struggle with. I am so grateful to you both for doing that.”

  “Not a problem,” said Joe, “and you only need this doing once a week?”

  “We can certainly get away with once a week,” Betty paused and stared out of one of the square windows, “Cyril’s always out here, pottering about. He cleans them when they need doing. Sometimes two or three times a week, but that’s just because he gets bored, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t mind coming over twice a week if you want me to,” said Joe.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. You have your own home to look after – on top of going to work.” She handed a tiny set of keys to Joe. “These are for the little padlocks here – see?” Betty picked up a lock, hanging from one of the cages. “You’ll need to keep the main door firmly closed when you open the cages. They do like to have a little flutter about.”

  “OK.” Joe peered at Tiff and opened his eyes wide, conveying worry. “What if… what if they won’t go back in the cages?”

  “Oh they will. I was just going to say that you can also hang some small bags of dried fruit inside, once you’ve cleaned them. The birds love it and it brings them back into the cages in no time.” Betty smiled and patted Joe gently on the back. “Just here, in this box. One bag for each cage.”

  “OK.”

  “Now,” said Betty, turning to a shelf behind her, “you’ll need some gloves and I have an antiseptic hand wash here for when you’ve finished.”

  Joe and Tiff nodded their heads simultaneously.

  “Looks like we have everything we might need,” said Tiff, grinning at Joe.

  “Now, before you start, I’m sure you might be able to manage a cup of tea and some fruit cake.” Betty moved towards the door. “And if you really don’t mind, I’ll give you the keys so you can lock the doors behind you when you leave. Would you be so kind as to post them back through the letterbox?”

  “Yes, of course,” Tiff replied. “And we would love a quick cup of tea before you leave, wouldn’t we Joe? Thank you.”

  “Yes – thanks.” Joe put the tiny keys in his pocket and followed Betty and Tiff through the door.

  While they were eating cake and drinking their tea, Joe’s phone tinkled again. Tiff peered across the table at him but said nothing. He pulled the phone from his pocket and appeared to turn it off completely. He looked across at Tiff and smiled uncomfortably.

  “The cake was lovely. Thank you.”

  Betty rolled a blue plastic mac into a neat roll and stuffed it in her handbag. “It might be chilly by the time I leave the hospital this evening.”

  “Please, wish Cyril well for us.” Tiff smiled waveringly as she cursed at herself, for not making a ‘Get Well Soon’ card for him. It wouldn’t have taken her long to do this morning. Joe’s fault really, she thought as the crushing suspicions engulfed her again. His phone never went off on a Sunday. Was it really Wayne?

  “I most definitely will and thank you again for helping me. Goodbye.” Betty grinned so much that her little face scrunched up. She picked up her bag and left with a little spring in her step.

  It had certainly been an experience cleaning the bird cages. On many occasions Tiff had yelped as a lovebird landed on the top of her head. Joe found the whole encounter highly amusing, and more so because the birds seemed to be attracted to Tiff more than they were to him. He hadn’t had one bird land on him.

  Tiff locked the front door of Betty’s house and posted the keys back through the letterbox, as instructed, while Joe gazed at the hedge next door.

  “Wayne’s down there,” said Tiff pointing to a figure, seated on the ground, painting the fence of number eight. “Afternoon, Wayne!” she shouted.

  “Tiff.” Joe tugged her by the arm. “Leave it – I’m knackered. I need a kip. Let’s just go indoors,” he whispered.

  Wayne looked up and waved his paintbrush in the air. Then he heaved himself up from the floor and strolled up the path. “Thought I’d better get our fence painted – you’ve set the benchmark around here.”

  Joe smirked and peered down at his feet.

  “So, did you have a hangover, Wayne? Joe looked really rough this morning.” Tiff giggled. “Did he reply to you?”

  “Reply?”

  “Yes – didn’t you message him this morning – asking if he had a hangover?”

  “Err…” Wayne shifted his gaze quickly away from Tiff to Joe and back again to Tiff, without actually meeting her eyes. Then he peered down at the ground and shifted his feet from side to side. “Err… yes… well, I think so anyway.” He turned and desperately searched Joe’s face again. “I was still drunk this morning – must have texted you without realising.” Wayne let out a nervous laugh.

  “Yeah, probably mate,” Joe mumbled. “Well, we’d better get off now – we’re going to put our feet up for an hour. Come on Tiff.”

  “Yes, OK. See you later mate.” Wayne shot a swift, shifty glance at Tiff. “See you again soon Tiff.” He then turned and hurried off, back to his fence.

  Tiff said nothing and walked to their front door and opened it. Once inside, she turned to face Joe who was just closing the door behind him. “So it wasn’t Wayne who texted you this morning.”

  Joe frowned. “Yes it was. He just said so. He forgot.”

  “How can he forget that he’s texted someone, just a few hours ago?”

  “I don’t know.” Joe stepped past and headed for the kitchen. “Do you want a cold drink?”

  “Yes please, I don’t believe you though Joe. I could tell Wayne didn’t know what I was talking about.”

  “He’s probably still pissed now.”

  “Oh, don’t be stupid.” She sat down at the table and rubbed her hands around her face. “Joe, I don’t believe you. Who texted you?”

  “I told you, Wayne.”

  “Let me see then?” The usual queasy feeling, that appeared every time the conversation with Joe became heated, was beginning to resurface and she had to swallow hard. “Let me see your phone.”

  “Tiff.” Joe’s voice had risen in tone. “Why don’t you believe me?”

  “Just let me see, then I will believe you and I won’t bother you again.”

  Joe snatched two tall glasses from the cupboard, placed them on the kitchen top with a thud and grabbed the orange juice from the fridge. “I’ve deleted it.”

  “Oh, I see.” Tiff snorted an artificial laugh. “Why would you go to the trouble of deleting a message when you’ve been so busy this morning?”

  “I don’t know – just did. Automatic I suppose.”

  “No it’s not just automatic. You deleted it because you didn’t want me to see it.” Tiff held fast as her eyes prickled. “By the sound of it…” She gulped back the rising fear and sickness. “Wayne’s covering up for you.”

  “Tiff – stop, please. You’re doing it ag…”

  She cut him s
hort. “Doing what?”

  “Letting insecurity get the better of you.”

  “Are you so surprised that I’m insecure? Wayne’s in this with you. I just can’t believe it.”

  “In what, babe?”

  “Covering something up for you, he knows.” Tiff couldn’t stop the tears from escaping over the rim of her eyes. “What about Hayley? Is she covering up for you as well?”

  “Babe,” Joe looked as though he was about to cry too. “Please Babe, there is nothing going on.”

  “I don’t believe you. Who was the second text from then? Don’t tell me – that was from Wayne as well. Yes, of course it was Wayne because he’d forgotten he’d texted you the first time. And then, miraculously, he’d forgotten that he’d sent either text. Silly me, why didn’t I think of it before. I suppose you’ve deleted that one as well, have you?”

  Joe nodded his head, a deep frown marred his handsome, tanned face.

  “You make yourself look suspicious Joe. Why delete messages so quickly, like you’re hiding something?”

  He shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know babe.”

  “Don’t ‘babe’ me.” She stood up and stared him in the eye. “I’m going to my mum’s – I don’t care if Dad’s not there. I need a break – from you!” She turned away and left the room.

  “Tiff,” Joe called after her. “Please don’t go. I need you here, with me. I promise babe. There is nothing funny going on.”

  Tiff ignored his plea and darted up the stairs in tears. She opened drawers, grabbed clothing and underwear and stuffed them all into a holdall. She opened the wardrobe and tore clothes from the hangers. In a rage, she stuffed a pair of shoes into the bag. Storming through to the bathroom she snatched up her toothbrush and a flannel and threw them into the bag too.

  Joe appeared at the top of the stairs. “Please don’t go babe. I love you. You must know that I do.”

  “I’m going – for a few days, at least,” she muttered as she searched the bathroom for anything else she might need. “That’ll give you enough time to sort your mess out and maybe you could even give Wayne a lesson on lying – he’s totally useless at it!”