by Pamela Evans
‘It won’t be the same for any of us,’ put in Giles sadly.
‘We were only saying the other day how much we value having you next-door, weren’t we, Giles?’ said Lena.
He nodded.
Jane glanced around the room which was furnished country-style with tapestry-covered chairs, brasses on the walls and polished wood floors.
‘I feel the same about you,’ she said, looking from one to the other. ‘It seems as though we’ve been neighbours forever.’
‘What sort of a place are you looking for?’ enquired Giles.
‘I’m going to try for a house rather than a flat,’ she said. ‘If I can find one I can afford. But they charge the earth for houses to rent in London.’
Lena nodded. ‘It’s almost as much to rent as to buy these days.’
Giles looked at Jane. ‘Have you thought of buying your cottage?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Why not?’
‘It wouldn’t be within my means,’ she said, adding thoughtfully, ‘Would it?’
‘I don’t know what your financial position is, of course, but you have a business which should stand you in good stead as regards getting a mortgage. And as a sitting tenant, you’d get the place below the asking price because the owner would save on agent’s fees as well as all the trouble of trying to find a buyer. You’ll probably have to pay a bit more for yours than we paid for ours because prices have gone up, even since we moved in. And yours isn’t in such a bad state as ours was. But it still doesn’t have central heating or luxury fittings so he’ll have to keep the price within reason. The mortgage repayments probably won’t be all that much more than the rent on another place.’
‘Don’t you have to pay a huge deposit, though?’ said Jane, who could hardly believe she was having this conversation. Her a home owner? It wasn’t possible. She had managed to save a bit from her profits, though.
‘Not necessarily huge. The first thing you need to do is see the landlord. Find out how much he’s asking for the place,’ said Giles. ‘If you need anyone to bargain with him for you, I’ll be only too happy.’
‘You’ve certainly given me food for thought,’ she said.
‘Well, don’t think about it for too long in case he gets an offer,’ said Giles.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t,’ said Jane excitedly.
The opposition Jane had met from the family when she’d first told them she was going to rent the cottage was as nothing to the outcry she received when she said she was thinking of buying it.
‘You can’t be serious?’ declared her father, who was of a class and generation who thought only in terms of renting living accommodation.
‘Why not?’
‘Because owning property is a mug’s game for anyone, ’ he stated categorically. ‘And for a woman on her own it’ll be a disaster.’
‘I don’t see why.’
‘It’s a huge responsibility. It’ll be nothing but a millstone around your neck.’
Jane had purposely kept quiet about it until she had some solid facts because she knew what the family’s reaction would be.
‘I’ve enough saved for the deposit and the mortgage repayments won’t be much more than I’ll have to pay if I rent a place.’
‘But it’s an old property, Jane,’ Joe reminded her. ‘What about when the roof needs fixing or the place needs rewiring? There won’t be a landlord to hand the bill to. It’ll all be down to you.’
‘I’ll worry about that when the time comes,’ she said.
‘Things are bound to go wrong in a property of that age,’ he insisted. ‘You’ll be better off in rented accommodation. You could always approach the council again.’
‘That isn’t what I want, Dad,’ she told him firmly. ‘I’ve made up my mind about the cottage and I’m going ahead.’
‘On your head be it then.’
Marie and Eddie were just as negative.
‘It’ll be nothing but trouble,’ said Marie. ‘It isn’t as though you’ve a man to lean on when the pipes burst or you get rising damp.’
Wilf and Rita were full of gloom too.
‘If you must buy a place, why not get something more modern?’ suggested Wilf. ‘Something with all mod cons that won’t give you any headaches.’
If it hadn’t been for the Hamiltons, Jane might have been put off going ahead. But their attitude was entirely different.
‘I’m so glad you’re staying on next-door,’ said Trudy warmly. ‘We were all dreading the idea of your leaving.’
‘Me too.’
‘You can do what you like with your cottage once you become the legal owner,’ said Trudy. ‘Isn’t it exciting!’
At a small drinks party at Jane’s cottage on Christmas morning, her father and Trudy got quite heated when Trudy expressed these views to him.
‘She’s making a rod for her own back,’ declared Joe. ‘And you shouldn’t be encouraging her.’
‘She’s building something solid for the future,’ argued Trudy. ‘It’s a first step on to the property ladder. Even apart from the fact that she loves living in the cottage, it will be an investment if she ever wants to move away. Property prices are rising. These cottages will fetch a good price one day.’
‘Cost her a fortune, more like.’
‘Rubbish!’
‘She’d be much better off renting a place,’ he objected. ‘It isn’t as though she has a husband to turn to.’
‘I don’t have a husband either but I don’t have a nervous breakdown every time something needs doing to my house.’
‘It’s different when you’ve got money ...’
‘Your daughter isn’t exactly helpless, you know,’ said Trudy forcefully. ‘She has a very good business. You should have more faith in her.’
‘I do have faith in her, but buying an old place like this . . .’
‘She’ll have a survey done before she signs anything.’
‘Humph.’
Despite the minor altercation, that Christmas was one of the happiest Jane had ever known. Her father spent Christmas Day with her and the children and they visited Mick’s parents in the afternoon as usual. On Boxing Day they all went to Marie and Eddie’s as always. But everything was enhanced, somehow, by the Hamiltons being next-door. They were out visiting friends and relatives, too, but popped into Jane’s in between times to compare notes.
Lena and Giles and Kevin spent New Year’s Eve with Jane. Her father declined her invitation in favour of his local pub and Trudy had a party to go to, so it was just the three of them and the children for a buffet supper and party games.
As it was the end of a decade, they allowed the children to stay up until midnight. The boys managed it but Pip fell asleep on the sofa and was carried up to bed by Giles. For the first time since Mick’s departure, Jane enjoyed the New Year’s Eve celebrations.
She felt very positive about the New Year, too, and looked forward to becoming the legal owner of number one Vine Cottages. 1970 was going to be good for her, she could feel it in her bones . . .
One Saturday afternoon in high summer, Patsy Brown and Mick Parker were sitting on a bench on Brighton’s Palace Pier, eating a fish and chip lunch from the paper and enjoying the sunshine. They had come here instead of going home when Patsy finished her midday session at the pub.
The crowds were out in force, a heaving mass of day trippers here for one purpose only: to eat, drink and be merry, with the emphasis very much on the latter. Many of the local residents preferred to stay away from the seafront during the summer when their town was taken over by strangers, especially since the mods and rockers had come a few years ago and wreaked havoc.
But Patsy loved the raucous gaiety of the holiday crowds and enjoyed watching them flock past, gorging themselves on candy floss and ice-cream and toffee apples.
‘Plenty of people about this afternoon, aren’t there?’ she remarked.
‘Plenty of pigeons an’ all,’ said Mick as crowds of the feathered variety strutted
and pecked around their feet.
‘Look at all the seagulls,’ said Patsy, pointing to a row of birds perched like ornaments on top of the white-painted handrail through which the West Pier could be seen across a shimmering stretch of water. Some of the gulls had taken up residence on top of the lamp standards too. Patsy had never seen so many birds all in one place. ‘They’re not a bit put off by having us humans around them, are they? Living proof of the peaceful coexistence of the civilised and the untamed.’
‘You can say that again,’ said Mick, as a gang of youths walked by, shouting and laughing, their transistor radio blaring.
Patsy burst out laughing, giving him an affectionate nudge.
‘Oh, Mick, you are awful,’ she said. ‘You know I meant the birds.’
‘The seagulls aren’t the only untamed creatures in Brighton today,’ he said, smiling into her eyes.
‘Oh, you,’ she admonished playfully, grinning back at him.
This last six months or so had been bliss for Patsy. After going to Mick’s flat that first time, she’d only been back to her own place once, to settle her bill and move her things out of there. She believed that Mick was happy with her, too, in his way, but he would never admit it because he was still hankering for his wife.
He’d been honest with Patsy and she appreciated that. He’d told her he liked her a lot and wanted her to live with him but it would never be a permanent relationship. Knowing that, it was up to her whether or not she moved in. He didn’t want to mislead her in any way.
Smitten with him as she was, she hadn’t hesitated, and had fallen ever more deeply in love with him as time passed. Theirs wasn’t a lovey-dovey relationship and she never told him how much he meant to her for fear of driving him away. She lived for the moment and didn’t dwell on the future.
It wasn’t in Patsy’s nature to make a fuss or complain too much about anything. From a poor home in London’s East End, she was no stranger to hardship. And with a failed marriage behind her she was realistic about what life had in store for her. She took each day as it came and didn’t expect too much. Meeting Mick had changed her life, though. They were really good together and had a lot of laughs. She wasn’t blind to his faults. He was vain and selfish. He didn’t respect the law in his business dealings and was greedy for money. But he was kind to her, was a wonderful lover, and when she could get him to relax he was entertaining company.
After all, she wasn’t much to write home about herself. She was thirty-eight and didn’t have any money behind her or any particular skills. Barmaiding was about the only thing she was any good at and that would never make her rich. Patsy didn’t care about that but she did care about Mick, more than was good for her. She spoiled him, she knew that. She acted as his unpaid housekeeper and was always on hand with sympathy and support, of which he needed plenty. Five years older than he was, her concern for him was almost maternal at times. She worried a lot about him. His lust for money had already given him some sort of a mental breakdown. She was afraid it would do so again - that and his obsession about his marriage to which he naively believed he could return and pick up where he had left off. Being a realistic sort of person, she tried to suggest to him that things might have changed for Jane, that it might not be quite so easy as he expected. But he was deaf when it came to his wife, and painted a picture of a human being Patsy had yet to meet: someone without fault or defect.
So why did Patsy stay with him as glorified housekeeper, mother and lover all rolled into one? Because she was crazy about him. It was as simple as that. In her heart, she truly believed that if only he could let go of the past, he would learn to love her too.
‘Have you finished, Pats?’ Mick asked, screwing his chip paper into a ball ready for the litter bin.
‘Yeah.’
‘Let’s have a wander then, shall we?’ he suggested.
Having deposited their rubbish in the bin, they walked arm in arm to the end of the pier, past oriental domes and fancy metalwork arches, whelk and mussel stalls, souvenir sellers, palm readers, amusement arcades, and a host of other entertainments.
At the end of the pier they leaned on the handrail near some fishermen, looking across the turquoise waters to the shore - the pebble beach a pale biscuit colour in the distance, dotted with people; the hotels gleaming whitely in the sun.
Patsy drew a deep breath.
‘Oh, it smells good, doesn’t it, the sea?’ she said.
‘What you can smell of it above the hot dogs and hamburgers.’
‘Don’t be so unromantic, Mick,’ she said, slapping his arm playfully. ‘You know you’re enjoying yourself.’
‘If you say so. All I know is I used to be able to stay home and sleep off my Saturday lunchtime beer in peace until you came along and started dragging me out.’
‘This is better than laying about at home on a lovely summer’s afternoon.’
He looked down into the sea for a moment, then surprised her by turning to her and saying, ‘Yeah, it is, as a matter o’ fact. I’m glad you bully me into doing things like this.’
‘Someone has to organise you or you wouldn’t go anywhere at all outside of work, except to the pub,’ she told him.
‘I know.’
‘Blimey, what’s got into you today?’ she said teasingly. ‘I mean, actually admitting that I’m right about something. ’
‘Perhaps I’m going soft or something,’ he said, but his tone was gentle.
‘I think you must be.’
They both stared down at the calm waters in silence, listening to the lap of the waves and the gulls crying.
‘Do you know something, Pats?’ he said after a while. ‘I’m really enjoying my life here in Brighton with you.’
‘I’m glad ’cause I enjoy it too.’
Turning to her, Mick rested his large hand on her plump small one on the rail.
‘You’re one of the best,’ he said. ‘You’re very good to me.’
‘Now I know you’re going soft,’ she said, touched by the tenderness in his eyes.
‘Maybe.’
They lingered for a while longer, thoroughly content in each other’s company. Then Patsy said they ought to think about going home because she had to get ready for her evening shift at the pub.
Chapter Thirteen
Jane was busy in her garden collecting windfalls of apples from the lawn. It was a fine autumn morning with gentle sunshine filtering from a hazy blue sky, the windless air sweet with the scent of the fruit.
In contrast to the weather, Jane herself was in turbulent mood. She told herself she was imagining things about Lena and Giles Hamilton’s attitude towards her; tried to make herself believe that they hadn’t become deliberately cold. She clung tenaciously to the possibility that their manner must be due to their being busier than usual which was why Lena had stopped calling in for a chat, and why they both gave Jane short shrift when she called at their door or saw them in passing. After all, their normal routine did seem to have altered lately. Lena was not around a lot of the time now, and Giles seemed to come and go at odd times during the day when he would normally be at school.
But for all this sensible reasoning, there was no denying the fact that the once warm and friendly couple had drawn into themselves and didn’t want Jane around. What she had done to offend them, she couldn’t imagine. She’d wracked her brains for a clue but had drawn a blank.
The children had perceived a difference in their neighbours too. Davey said that Uncle Giles had been grumpy at football training and Pip claimed that Auntie Lena had gone off her. Jane wondered if personal problems were making them offhand. Marital troubles perhaps? But the fact that they were so united in their exclusion of Jane and her children made this most unlikely. Jane and Lena had become close friends. If she had a problem that didn’t concern Jane, surely she would have confided in her about it?
Deeply hurt by their behaviour, Jane had felt obliged to stop calling on them since it was obvious she wasn’t welcome. She felt
awkward when she saw either of them in the garden or if she happened to be parking her car at the same time as they were. They both looked so strange, so different - sort of grim and absorbed in themselves.
Having this valued friendship come to an end without a word of explanation was very hard to take. The two families had enriched each other’s lives in so many ways since becoming neighbours. Had it not been for the Hamiltons’ encouragement, Jane would probably not have had the confidence to go ahead and buy her cottage, something she didn’t regret for a second even though the current situation with Lena and Giles made living here most uncomfortable.
With all the fallen apples gathered into her basket, she sat on a wooden bench on the lawn, kicking off her sandals and tickling Shadow’s tummy with her toe as he rolled about on his back, his fur warmed by the sun, eyes half closed with pleasure. The apples on the tree had proved to be eaters and unsuitable for use in her cake recipe but were crispy and delicious nonetheless. Jane gave them away to family and friends at this time of year; Lena and Giles, too, when they’d still been approachable.
The feel and smell of autumn pervaded her senses, filling her with melancholy at the passing of summer when they spent so much time in the garden. Now the lawn was covered with leaves, the bushes aflame with berries, the air tinged with the chill of advancing winter, despite the sunshine. With everyone inside behind closed doors, contact with her neighbours would be even more difficult.
Living here without the Hamiltons’ friendship indefinitely was a depressing thought. With a sudden burst of determination, Jane decided she wasn’t prepared to let it end like this. The least they could do was to tell her what she’d done to bring about their sudden change of heart.
Hearing their car draw up in the alley, she tensed, realising that here was an opportunity to bring things out into the open. She didn’t know which one of them it was because she couldn’t see over the back fence into the alley from this angle but she guessed it would be Lena as her husband would be at school.
With nerves jangling, she waited for the garden gate to open, surprised after all to see Giles and not Lena. Taking her courage in her hands, she went over to the dividing fence.