The New Neighbours

by Costeloe Diney

  Sobering up rapidly, Jill struggled back into the clothes she’d cast aside so excitedly earlier. “Who’s here?” she whispered.

  “There’s a police car outside, the blue light’s still flashing,” replied Ben, “but that’s not all, there are other people out there too, from the Circle I imagine come to see the fun.”

  “How will I get out?” cried Jill in panic.

  “I don’t know,” snapped Ben. “Think for a minute.”

  “I could go out of the garden door,” Jill said, tugging on her trousers over her bare bottom, she couldn’t find her panties in her hurry to get dressed.

  “No point,” Ben said briskly. “There’s no way out of the garden, and you could never climb the fence at the back. You’d be trapped.”

  “Maybe they won’t come in here,” Jill said hopefully.

  “Some chance.”

  At that moment there was a rap on his door, and a man’s voice said,

  “Open up.”

  “Stay behind the door, and stay out of sight.” hissed Ben. “I’ll go out willingly and they may not even come in.” It was a forlorn hope but worth a try.

  “Who’s there?” Ben called sleepily, as if newly awakened. “What do you want?”

  “Police! Open the door.”

  Ben opened the door and peered at the man standing outside. “What’s the matter?” he asked rubbing his eyes.

  “Just like you to step outside for a moment, sir,” the policeman said “and the lady behind the door too, please.”

  Ben was about to protest that there was no one in the room with him, when he realised that Jill was in full view in the mirror on the wardrobe door. “Come on, Jill,” he said and held out his hand. Together they came out, and were led to the stairs. As they turned to go up there was a voice from outside spoke in utter incredulity. “Jill?” and then louder, a shout, “Jill! What the hell…?”

  Jill took one look out through the front door. Her eyes met those of a stupefied Anthony, and the amazed eyes of Paul Forrester and Sheila Colby, and then she turned away and with leaden feet, followed Ben and the policeman upstairs.

  At last it was over and everyone was sent home. No one was charged with drugs offences. The cannabis resin and the few ready-rolled reefers that were retrieved from the floor had not actually been found in anyone’s possession. The noise causing the nuisance had been stopped, and the threat of impounding the equipment hung over the house should such a disturbance be caused again. The party was over, but the recriminations were about to begin.

  Dan had vanished into the night as soon as he had dragged on his clothes. The police had made no move to restrain him, and the students who were still there ignored him entirely. He had made no move to speak to Mad, no further look had been exchanged between them, he simply slipped away into the darkness, and disappeared.

  Angie was still there when Ben had come upstairs with Jill. She stared at him. She hadn’t realised he’d come home and gone to his room with someone else while she was waiting for him upstairs to come and join the party. She went white with fury and marching across the room spat out, “I knew there was someone, Ben Gardner, I didn’t know it was your grandmother!”

  “Goodbye, Angie,” Ben said wearily.

  “Yeah! Too right, you bastard,” she snarled. “I’m well rid of a shit like you.” She went downstairs and out of the front door, where the police were encouraging the neighbours who had come out to see the fun, to return to their homes.

  “It’s all over, ladies and gentlemen,” PC Woodman was saying.

  “There’s no noise now, so you can all go back to bed and to sleep.”

  Chantal was taken home by WPC Ford. As they reached her front door, it opened before she could put her key in the lock. Annabel was in a towering rage in the doorway.

  “Where the hell have you been, Chantal?” she began, but her words died away as she saw who her sister was with.

  “Is this your sister?” asked WPC Ford.

  Annabel nodded. “What’s happened? Chantal, oh my God, are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m OK.” Chantal glared at her. “I was at the party, that’s all.”

  “We thought it best that I should see your sister home,” explained WPC Ford, her glance taking in the fact that Annabel was pregnant. “Are your parents at home?”

  “No, mum went out for the evening with friends. She… she phoned earlier to say that she’d been drinking, so she was going to stay over until the morning.”

  “I see, so you’re on your own in the house?”

  “Yes. So…?”

  “So you were worried about your sister coming home so late.” It was a statement not a question.

  “I was a bit,” admitted Annabel carefully. “I wouldn’t have worried if I’d known you were at the party,” she said to Chantal, “you should have warned me, that’s all.” She looked at the policewoman and added, “Mum knew she was going out, she said she could go. It’s the weekend after all.”

  “Yes, I see. Well, she’s home now.”

  Annabel stood aside and Chantal scuttled inside. “Thank you for bringing her,” Annabel said and firmly shut the door.

  WPC Ford stood outside for a moment longer. “Seventeen? Bullshit!” she murmured to the air and went back to where Woodman was waiting for her in the car. The crowd had now dispersed, and the second car had already left.

  “Must’ve really shaken this place up when that load of England’s future moved in,” Woodman remarked, and driving slowly round the Circle headed out on to Dartmouth Road.

  Madge Peters sat in her window and watched the police cars drive away. She had heard the music of course, even from the other end of the Circle it had been intrusive, the base notes thumping out into the air, but she’d still been awake when it started, and she watched the goings-on with interest ever since.

  Well, she thought wryly, Sheila will be delighted to have been proved right.

  Twenty-one

  When the front door of the Madhouse closed behind the police, the students who were left looked round at each other in silence for a moment.

  Cirelle flopped on to the sofa and, speaking for them all, said, “Shit, what a mess!”

  Madeleine still stood within the circle of Dean’s arm, trembling with shock, anger and pain, but as if released by the sound of Cirelle’s voice, she pulled free and went to the window. She looked out at the tail lights of the police car disappearing into the darkness of the Circle and cried, “Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!” Then turning back to face her friends, she said more quietly, “What a shithouse!” Fighting to keep back more tears, she said, “I’m going to bed. I think I’ll sleep in Charlie’s room tonight. We’ll sort this place out in the morning.”

  Cirelle made a move towards her: “I’ll come up with you,” she began, but Mad said quickly, “I’m OK, Cirelle, really. I just want to be on my own, you know?”

  “Fine, OK,” Cirelle agreed, “if you’re sure,” but her eyes were anxious. Leaving the others to do as they chose, Mad went slowly up the stairs to Charlie’s room. The door stood open and displayed the bedclothes tumbled to the floor in a heap. Mad stared at them for a moment before realising what this meant. She opened the door of her own room and found it exactly as she had left it, and realised with an overwhelming flood of relief, that it had not been violated as she’d thought. Dan had not taken Chantal there, in Madeleine’s own bed; he had used Charlie’s bedroom. She closed her door again and went back to the door of Charlie’s room. She could smell the sweet smell of the hash, mixed with… whatever. From the smell and the drink, she felt suddenly sick and had to dash for the bathroom.

  Later, she sponged her face and hands, cleaned her teeth, and feeling marginally better, determined to face Charlie’s room again. After all, it couldn’t be left as it was, and as there was no way she was going to sleep, she’d feel better doing something. Drawing a deep breath she went into the room and threw open the window to the cold darkness. The chill air rushed in and
swept round the room, scouring it, scooping up the sickly smell left by Dan and Chantal and wafting it out into the night. Immediately, Mad set to work. She pulled all the remaining bedclothes off the bed, stripping pillow cases from pillows, duvet cover from duvet and sheet from mattress, and hurled them into a heap on the landing. She punched the pillows and hung them out of the gaping window, she shook the duvet and draped that over the top of the pillows. She tipped the remains of the cigarettes into the bin, and with the bin in one hand and the dirty bedclothes tucked under the other arm, she set off downstairs to the washing machine in the garage. She piled the dirty linen inside and set the washer going. She emptied the bin into the dustbin outside the front door and then went back upstairs.

  The living room was empty now. Cirelle had disappeared to her own room, and there was no sound from Dean’s room, so he and Pepper must have gone to bed too. Ben had followed Jill downstairs, when she had left and hadn’t reappeared. The peculiarity of Jill and Ben being together was yet another thing Mad put to one side in her brain. She didn’t want to think about anything, she wasn’t yet ready to consider any of the dreadful events of the evening or their consequences.

  The room itself was a shambles, empty glasses and overflowing ashtrays on every available ledge and shelf. Empty cans and bottles littered the floor, and when she glanced into the kitchen, it was the same in there, and the whole place was pervaded by the sour smell of beer and smoke. Madeleine looked at it all, but felt too drained to cope with it. She didn’t want to go back upstairs either, so she simply shook out some of the cushions and the throw that covered the sofa and made a place for herself to curl up.

  For a moment she rested, and allowed her mind to relax. It was a mistake; her misery flooded back. Dan! How could he? How could he do that to me? At my own party! I know he was pissed, but that’s no excuse. He seduced that bloody Chantal, a bloody schoolgirl, if not in my own bed, under my own roof. He’s a shit! A bag of shit! She wanted to scream the words at him, fling them in his face.

  The pain surged through her again in a wave, and the tears poured down her cheeks in hot streams. She knew that this time there would be no forgiving Dan, no taking him back. She could not do it. She felt utterly betrayed, and anger at that betrayal combined with the pain, chilled her to the bone and made her start shaking again. This is no good, she told herself angrily. Pull yourself together! You’re behaving like a wimp.

  In an effort to get warm she pulled the woollen throw around her, huddling into its folds, and as her tears began to dry, surprisingly, drifted off into an uneasy doze.

  When Mad awoke, day was breaking. A dull grey light had stolen through the window, and the room was freezing. Curled into an awkward ball, her legs drawn up under her on the sofa, she was stiff and cold. The throw was still clasped round her but afforded little warmth. She realised with a start that the window was still open, as must be the one in Charlie’s room. She hadn’t been back up there to close it, or to bring in the bedclothes she’d hung out to air. Stiffly Mad got to her feet and closed the window, then she went upstairs to do the same in Charlie’s room. At the door, she surveyed the room again. There was no smell any more, just a roomful of cold December air. She dragged the bedclothes in and shut the window. Pillows and duvet were all damp now, but at least they didn’t smell any more either. Mad draped them around the radiator to dry again and then went into her own room. It was warmer in there, but Madeleine was wide awake now and too restless to settle to anything. She decided to have a bath and get warm.

  After her bath she dressed from the skin out in clean clothes and went back downstairs. There was still no sign of anyone else stirring, but Mad couldn’t stay by herself, so she decided to go out for a walk. It was early Sunday morning, and there was no one else about. She stepped out into the sharp winter air and paused, looking at the Circle. The garden looked bleak and damp, with soggy leaves lying on the grass. How different from the September barbecue, thought Mad idly; that day had been sunny and warm with colours still glowing in the flowers and shrubs. It seemed a long time ago, but then everything before yesterday seemed a long time ago. She walked round the Circle and decided to head for town, perhaps she’d get them a Sunday paper. As she passed number one, she looked up and saw Madge Peters sitting in her window, looking out over the Circle. Madge waved and Madeleine lifted a hand in reply. Madge waved again and pantomimed drinking a cup of tea. Madeleine stopped and pointed in enquiry to herself. Madge nodded and mimed the tea again. Madeleine managed a smile and nodded.

  Why not, she thought, I’ve nothing else to do. And turning, she went to the front door and pushed it open as Madge pressed the door release from upstairs.

  “Come up,” Madge called, and added as Madeleine climbed the stairs, “you’re up early after a late night!” She was in the kitchen, filling the kettle and organising a teapot and mugs. “Would you rather have coffee?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry,” Mad said, “if we kept you awake.” She stood at the kitchen door and Madge saw her face, grey and drawn, her eyes red and puffy.

  “My dear child,” she exclaimed, “what on earth’s happened?” She moved towards her and held out her arms. Mad was enfolded and the sympathy she felt engulfing her broke her self-control and for a moment she wept again. Madge, continued to hold her, making sympathetic noises until the worst was over and then said gently, “Let’s get that tea, and then we’ll sit down and you can tell me all about it… if you want to.” She poured the water into the teapot and then Mad carried the tray into the sitting room and set it on the table in the window.

  Madge poured the tea and then, when each had her mug, looked across at Madeleine and smiled. “Good party last night, was it?” she enquired lightly.

  Cradling the warm mug in her hands, Mad managed a wan smile. “No,” she replied, “it was bloody awful.”

  “Well, it was quite noisy,” Madge said. “I saw the police arrive. I suppose someone sent for them.”

  Mad shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose,” she agreed. “Probably old Ma Colby next door.”

  “Well, it must have been very loud for her,” Madge said reasonably. “But that’s not the problem, is it.” This wasn’t a question, but a statement. “What’s really upset you? Or don’t you want to talk about it?”

  If Mad had been asked earlier if she wanted to talk about Dan and his betrayal, she’d have refused, feeling that if she hadn’t faced up to it, it might, somehow, not have really happened. But now, faced with Madge’s kindly commonsense, she found that she did need to speak of it, to bring it out and accept the fact that Dan was in the past.

  “It’s Dan,” she began. “I’ve always known he eyes up other girls, like, chatting up any bird who’d listen, but I’ve put up with it. He always came back to me, you know…” Gradually she told Madge the whole story, ending with last night in the pub and at the house.

  “I don’t even know why Chantal Haven was there, except that she’s latched on to us since we arrived here. Makes her feel grown up I suppose. She’s always giving blokes the eye, Dan included.”

  “She’s a flighty little piece,” observed Madge, drinking her tea. “Get herself into trouble like that sister of hers, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “I can’t see what a man Dan’s age would see in her,” Mad protested. “She’s just a kid.”

  “Kid she may be, but she’s got legs up to her armpits and a very neat little bum,” Madge said.

  Madeleine looked startled at that, and Madge laughed and said, “I wasn’t always ninety, you know.”

  Spike wandered into the room and seeing Madeleine sitting in the armchair, sprung gracefully on to her lap and made himself comfortable. “Spike really likes you,” Madge said. “He ignores most people, and Sheila Colby he actively dislikes, he walks out very pointedly when she comes to call!” Madeleine smiled at this and Madge was pleased to see it.

  “What you have to realise, Mad,” she went on, “is that most men are ruled by what’s between their legs. No
t all to the same extent, of course, but they do do some very stupid things, and then expect us to sort them out.” She looked across at Mad. “Do you love him?”

  “I don’t know,” wailed Mad. “I thought I did. We seemed to have something, well, special. But now… after this. How can you love someone who does this to you, you know?”

  “Will you take him back?” asked Madge gently.

  “No.” Mad’s answer was emphatic. “Not this time. Even if I do still love him! But I don’t think he’ll try to come back this time.”

  “Maybe not,” Madge agreed, “but it’d be as well to be prepared in your own mind, so you know for sure what your answer will be.” She reached out and took Mad’s hand. “You must set a high value on yourself, Mad. You are an extremely attractive woman, and though it doesn’t seem like it now, you’ll soon find someone else. Someone who wants to be with you because you’re full of vitality and fun, because you’re good company, not just for your body and because you’re good in bed! Someone who sees you as a whole person and loves you as you are Don’t downgrade yourself to Dan’s level, Mad, set a proper value on yourself, and others will do the same.” She gave a wry smile. “I’m not saying forget him and get on with life, it’s not as easy as that, because you’re hurting inside. It’ll take time, but the hurt will heal and then we both know you can do it.” The old lady smiled again. “There now, lecture over. Just remember there are other fish in the sea… I know, I know, who wants a fish?!” This earned her a smile from Mad. “But it’s true all the same!”

  An easy silence lapsed over them broken only by the purring of the cat on Mad’s lap.

  “And now, I think,” Madge said shrewdly, “you should go for a long walk, you’ll find the fresh air and exercise clear your head, and you’ll come home with a new perspective on things. Then you should try to mend a few fences. I’m not telling you what to do…” She was of course, and they both knew it, but Madeleine found she didn’t mind and Madge wanted Madeleine to have an agenda for the day, “But it wouldn’t hurt to go round to the Colbys and the Redwoods and apologise for disturbing their sleep. Take them a bunch of flowers or something. After all, you’ve got to go on living next door to them.”