The Good Neighbour

by Beth Miller

  That authoritative, convincing voice again. Minette put her hands palm down on the table, bracing herself. ‘I don’t know, Cath. Andy seemed so certain.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I bet he did. He’d do anything to get back at me. Anything. You don’t know jack shit about abusers, Minette, excuse my language. Jack shit.’ Cath poured herself another glass. ‘So, go on.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Cath. Let’s leave it.’ Minette felt she’d had enough.

  Cath shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I’m trying not to overreact. But I do feel slightly shocked that you might believe him, who you’ve never met, over me, your friend.’

  ‘I would never have even thought of believing him, Cath, if it hadn’t been that thing with Davey.’

  ‘You’re on Andy’s side,’ Cath said.

  ‘I’m not! I’m not on anyone’s side …’

  ‘You’re certainly not on mine.’ Cath stood up and started opening cupboards, then closing them again. ‘No one ever believes me.’

  ‘I am, I do, it’s just …’

  ‘You can’t be on both sides, Minette.’ Slam went the cupboard door. ‘You can’t sit on the fence.’ Slam. ‘If you support me, you can’t be questioning me, suspecting me, not trusting me. That’s not what friends do, is it?’ Slam.

  Minette couldn’t stand it. ‘Sit down,’ she said quietly, taking Cath’s arm. ‘I didn’t mean to get you all upset.’

  Cath’s breathing was very fast. She shook Minette off, and rubbed her arm where she had touched her. ‘Don’t patronise me. Just be honest. Are you for me, or against me?’

  ‘It’s not really that black and white …’

  ‘It is, to me.’ Cath’s expression made Minette alarmed. Perhaps the same alarm that caused Andy to drive through the night. There was something out of control on Cath’s usually calm face.

  ‘I just want to know the facts,’ Minette said.

  ‘Against me then,’ Cath said. ‘That’s how it is.’ She wiped her eyes with her sleeve – Minette hadn’t realised she was crying – and said, ‘Well, at least I know where I stand.’

  ‘Cath, it isn’t like that!’ Minette cried. How had the conversation slipped so far out of her grasp? ‘I only want to know about Davey …’

  ‘Talking of Davey, it’s getting late, isn’t it?’ Cath went to the door and called him. Minette heard the television go off, then he wheeled himself into the kitchen. She said, ‘Hello.’ Unusually, he didn’t look at her, but stared at the ground instead.

  ‘Oh, Davey, just one thing,’ Cath said. ‘Minette here thinks she saw you walking the other night.’

  ‘Hey, Cath, that’s not …’

  ‘Not just your few steps that we know you can still do, lovie, but proper walking. What do you say to that?’

  Davey’s face was blank. ‘I can’t walk more than a few steps.’

  Minette was horror-struck. ‘Please Cath, stop this.’

  ‘There you go, Minette, straight from the horse’s mouth.’ Cath stroked Davey’s hair. ‘Bed now, lovie. Say goodnight.’

  Davey muttered ‘good night’ and went out, without looking at either of them.

  ‘That was hardly fair,’ Minette said. She picked up her glass, found she was trembling, and put it down again.

  ‘How so? You accused me of something, and I’ve just given you evidence that you’re wrong. Shall I bring you a copy of the letter when I get it? It’ll say “Duchenne muscular dystrophy” in black and white.’

  ‘I don’t mean not fair to me, I mean to Davey. He’ll say whatever you tell him to.’

  Cath smiled. ‘You need to be careful, Minette. Say what you like about me, but don’t you dare suggest that my son is lying.’

  Minette stood up. She was surprised to find that she felt more angry than frightened. ‘You know that’s not what I mean, Cath. I’m going home now.’

  Cath said, quietly, ‘It’s so horrid, isn’t it, when a family breaks up? Nasty. I know as how you went through it yourself, as a child.’

  ‘When my parents split things weren’t great,’ Minette said. ‘But no one had to change their names.’

  ‘No. You were lucky. And you’ve been lucky to meet a nice, kind man like Abe. Though,’ Cath paused, then said in a rush, ‘it’s not all roses round the door, with you and him, is it?’

  ‘We’re fine.’ Minette went into the hall and picked up her jacket. Cath followed her.

  ‘If you was all fine, you wouldn’t need to invite certain handsome blond animuses round when you’re in my house, looking after my kids. Not exactly appropriate, is it?’

  Minette looked at Cath. Were the gloves finally off, then? She wasn’t sure if she was more tired or sad. She looked at her watch: eight fifteen. ‘I’d better go.’

  Cath said, ‘Sure. But before you do, there’s something I really ought to show you. And I’ve got something to tell you as well, some good gossip I found out today.’

  ‘It’s all right, I don’t want to know.’ She moved towards the front door.

  ‘You’ll like this, it’s about Liam.’

  Whenever Minette looked back on this scene, this was the point at which she metaphorically slapped herself around the head. Why didn’t she just walk out the door? But some part of her felt she owed Cath the courtesy of listening. Even if this Cath didn’t seem like the person she knew, the old Cath had been amazing about her fling with Liam, had encouraged her to do the triathlon, had looked after Tilly, and helped her navigate the world of life with a small baby.

  Plus, Minette’s curiosity was roused. ‘Go on, then.’

  ‘Josie’s pregnant.’

  ‘She’s not.’ Minette reacted instinctively.

  ‘You’ve gone white as a sheet, lovie. Come back, come and sit down.’ Cath’s voice was gentle.

  Minette’s legs felt weak, as if she hadn’t had enough to eat. She allowed Cath to lead her back into the kitchen and sat, still wearing her jacket. Cath put a topped-up glass of wine in front of her and Minette mechanically took a sip.

  ‘Yes,’ said Cath conversationally, looking into her own glass. ‘Josie was mucho in evidence in the street today. Got chatting and she said as how she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone but she couldn’t keep it in any longer. She’s only a few weeks but she’s never missed a period before, apparently they’ve been at it like rabbits. She didn’t say it in quite those words, but she did a lot of cute blushing and saying things like “second honeymoon”. Isn’t it sweet? You must have given him his mojo back.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Uh-huh. Because you think I’m a liar now. OK. Well, you can easily verify this, you only have to ask Liam.’ She looked at Minette. ‘Or ask Josie. She’s just busting to tell.’

  Josie on the beach earlier, stumbling in her sandals. Giggling. Wanting to give up work. Her hand on Liam’s arm. Minette knew instinctively that it was true.

  He said they weren’t sleeping together.

  ‘What’s the thing you wanted to show me?’ Minette said, keeping her voice steady.

  ‘Oh yes! It’s upstairs. Hang on a tick.’ Cath went out. Minette’s mind couldn’t process what she’d just heard. Liam had lied. He’d been sleeping with her and Josie at the same time. Jesus. It was disgusting. And it was breaking another feminist rule she’d just remembered: don’t fuck another woman’s husband. She drank the rest of her wine in one go and poured herself another glass. Then she thought abruptly of the phone app in her pocket, recording her conversation. For god’s sake, it had all that stuff about Liam in it. She couldn’t play that to Abe! She looked at her phone. It wasn’t immediately clear how to erase the recording, so she just deleted the whole app. Cath came in as she was doing this, carrying a cardboard folder, and said, ‘Texting your boyfriend are you?’

  ‘Which one?’ Minette shot back, trying to regain some ground.

  ‘Oh, ha ha, very good. This one,’ Cath said. She took a large black-and-white photo from the folder and put it on the
table in front of Minette.

  For a moment Minette couldn’t understand what she was seeing. It was a porno picture, a couple having sex, why was Cath showing her this? She’d said ‘this one’. That was a clue. Yes, the man, though his face was half-hidden between the woman’s thighs, was clearly Liam. Christ! Was Cath showing her a photo of Liam with Josie? Just to prove that Josie could be pregnant? What the hell … But slowly, Minette saw that it wasn’t Josie in the picture. Wine-flavoured bile rose in her throat and she thought she was going to be sick. She covered her mouth.

  ‘You all right, lovie?’ Cath’s voice came from far away.

  ‘Yes,’ Minette said vaguely. Then, ‘How did you get this?’

  ‘You’re a smart cookie,’ Cath said, filling Minette’s glass again – Minette didn’t remember finishing it. ‘You’ve got a degree, and everything! You can figure it out.’

  ‘I can’t.’ Minette knew she should be able to work it out but she couldn’t. She felt utterly exposed. Cath had seen this photo, this private moment: her head flung back in ecstasy, legs spread wide apart, her cunt on display. Minette’s eyes filled with tears. She knew that younger people, the generation below hers, sent each other photos of their genitals, their tits and arses, like it was nothing. Maybe if she was more like that this wouldn’t be such a horrible shock. She had never even seen herself like this, so to think that someone else had … ‘Please tell me how you got this.’

  ‘Let’s work it out together,’ Cath said, her voice quiet and calm. ‘Do you recognise the room?’

  Wildly, Minette scanned the photo for clues. There was a bedside table she didn’t recognise; the sheets could have been any sheets. She looked up, a thought occurring to her. ‘Have you photo-shopped our faces onto other bodies?’

  Cath laughed. ‘You are so sweet. You maybe don’t know Liam’s gorgeous body too well, looks like you had your eyes shut, but I would have thought you would recognise your own. Whose little birthmark is this, just here?’

  Minette watched as Cath’s finger alighted on a small mark on the woman’s hipbone. ‘Yes,’ she said. It was her body. Her breasts, her arms, her legs. The bedside table stopped being unfamiliar.

  ‘How did you take it? Were you here all the time?’

  ‘Gracious, Minette, I have a life! I’m doing a triathlon next weekend. I’ve got two sick kids. I don’t have time to hang around taking pictures of my neighbours.’

  ‘A camera on an automatic timer?’

  ‘See? I said you was clever. Davey helped set it up, he’s great with technology, that one. Reckon he might be a computer programmer or something like that when he’s older.’

  Minette knew it was probably futile, but she ripped the picture into shreds, let them fall to the floor.

  ‘Didn’t like that one, huh? Fair enough, you looked a bit fat in it. What about some of these?’ Cath opened the folder and held it up in the air. Photos cascaded down onto the table. Some colour, others black and white. Photos of Minette sucking Liam. Him holding her breasts. Her straddling him, him straddling her, him fucking her from behind. Hundreds of them, all different, some clearly taken only seconds apart.

  ‘Just pointed the camera at the bed, and off it went. You two should make one of them sex-tapes.’

  Minette was too stunned to feel anything, other than sheer disbelief. She felt so full of disbelief, it crowded out every other emotion. ‘Why?’

  ‘Why a sex-tape? Well, you both look good, especially Liam. I think it would be popular.’

  ‘Why did you take them?’

  ‘Oh, I have my reasons. Didn’t think I’d ever show them to you, to be honest. Didn’t imagine I’d be using them so soon.’

  ‘How will you use them?’

  Cath began to put the photos into a neat pile. ‘That one’s nice, isn’t it? So many people prefer digital photos these days, but I think there’s nothing better than an actual physical picture that you can hold in your hands. I don’t want to have to show them to Abe or Josie. I should think they’ll be a bit upset. Her specially, what with the pregnancy and all.’

  Minette was beginning to understand. The fog was clearing. If she kept quiet about Cath’s secrets, about Davey and Lola, Cath would keep quiet about the pictures. It seemed, now, as if all the craziness and excitement of the affair with Liam had just been leading up to this point. This horrible, tawdry point.

  ‘It’s a shame not to show them around, really, because they’re such nice pictures. You could put some of them in those frames Abe nicked from a skip.’

  ‘And what if I say that Liam and I are going to run off together, and I don’t care?’ Minette made an attempt to brazen it out.

  ‘Well, then, you’ve nothing to worry about. Though will he, if his wife is pregnant? I think he’s pretty keen to have a baby, bless him. He’s just about to start his course, too. I’d be amazed if he wanted to rock the boat now.’

  Josie, so long just a shadow, someone she deliberately didn’t think about, now appeared in Minette’s mind in sharp focus. Josie was Liam’s wife. They were going to have a baby. Seeing these photos would ruin her life. Minette couldn’t quite believe that she had been so careless, so cruel, about another person’s feelings. She had never behaved like that in her life before.

  Cath spoke into the silence. ‘And if you and Abe split, will he be reasonable about custody of Tilly and that sort of thing, if he sees these? I just don’t know for sure. I guess he’s had his suspicions about Liam for a while, hasn’t he? From the moment you put that bench outside so you had an excuse to hang out with any bored out-of-work Tom, Harry, or should I say Dick, passing by.’

  Minette was too stunned to respond. Cath went on, ‘We reckoned as how Liam was your animus, didn’t we?’ She held up another photo and said, ‘He does look particularly good in this one. I forgot to tell you the rest of what Jung said about that. Let’s see if I can remember. Ooh, it was a long time ago I did psychology. Yes, he said, “You have an image of a man, of the man. Then you see that man, and you fall in love.” Sound familiar? And afterwards, says Jung, “you may discover that it was a hell of a mistake.” Wise words, don’t you think?’

  Minette looked at her watch. Christ, it was eight fifty-five; Abe would be coming round any minute to check she was all right. He’d see the photos, strewn over the table … She stumbled to her feet. ‘I’m going.’

  ‘Sure. Thanks for the wine. See you soon. Oh, and if you don’t want to do the triathlon no worries, totally understand. I’ll just add the money you’ve raised to my overall total. Joint effort.’

  Somehow Minette was outside. She was sweating, and cold at the same time. She couldn’t get her key in the lock because she was drunk, and because her hand was trembling. She let out a whispered prayer – ‘please god come on just let me please let me get inside please I’ll do anything’ – till at last the door opened. She stepped inside quietly, and stood in the hall.

  Abe called from the kitchen, ‘That you, Dougie? I mean, Minette, sorry. You’ve been ages. You OK?’

  She had to get herself together, put on one hell of an act for him. She couldn’t think straight, yet she knew one thing for certain: she would die if Abe saw those photos. Who would she be, in his eyes, if he saw them? No longer Minette, his best friend, love of his life, mother of his child. But Minette, a whore. She hadn’t felt like a whore till she saw the pictures. And that’s what Abe would see. It would change the way he felt about her; there would be no coming back from it. She had to avoid that happening at all costs. Think, Minette, for fuck’s sake, think. She would tell him Cath had convinced her all was fine. Just for now, to buy some time, while she worked out what to do. She’d tell Abe that something had gone wrong with the app. That Andy was unreliable. A wife-beater after all. She’d ring Andy tomorrow and say she couldn’t help him any further.

  She took out her lenses, and cupped them in her palm. It would be easier to lie if she couldn’t see Abe properly. Then she pushed open the kitchen door.

&nbs
p; Chapter 21

  Cath

  ‘WHAT’S SHE DOING?’ Cath asked Davey. He was looking out of the round window while she painted the tiles in the bathroom across the hall. The Miltons had chosen hideous salmon pink tiles, with a grey fleck that looked like dirt. Cath was painting them white. They looked miles better.

  ‘Nothing. Still sitting on the bench. She’s showing Tilly a book.’

  ‘God, some people have nothing better to do on a Sunday but lounge about.’

  ‘Oh, she looked.’ Davey ducked down from the window.

  ‘Did she see you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You oughta stop now, anyway. You’ll get tired, you’re not supposed to stand for long, remember.’

  Davey sat on the floor outside the bathroom. ‘Stinks.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s smelly paint. I’m done now. You can help me collect the last bits of sponsor money. There’s about eight houses where they’re never home in the week.’

  Cath cleared up and checked in on Lola. She was watching TV, a half-empty packet of Bakewell tarts in front of her.

  ‘How many of those have you had, Lolly?’

  ‘Dunno,’ Lola said, another one on its way to her mouth.

  ‘Make that the last one, lovie, OK? Listen, Davey and me are going out for ten minutes. Do you want to come?’

  She shook her head. ‘Want to see the end of this.’

  ‘OK. We won’t be long. I’ll lock the front door, all right?’

  ‘All right,’ Lola said, her eyes never moving from the screen. She probably hadn’t heard a word.

  ‘I’m really tired, Mum,’ Davey said.

  ‘You can’t be! You haven’t done anything today,’ Cath said, laughing.

  ‘I think it was standing up at the window.’

  ‘Come on, fresh air will do you good.’ Cath gathered up her file. ‘I need you with me when I’m collecting sponsors.’ She ushered Davey out, locking the mortice so that Lola was safe inside.