We ate supper. The four of us—Mum, Dad, Tom and I—sat at our square table with the vase of daffodils in the middle, and the red-and-white-checkered plastic tablecloth, which had a cigarette burn on the left side, three squares up. I couldn’t say what we had to eat the evening before, or the one after, but that day we had bowls of steaming homemade tomato soup, buttered bread, thick slices of cheddar cheese and sweet gherkins. Lots and lots of sweet gherkins.
Mum wasn’t unusually quiet. Dad didn’t shout. In fact, they had a perfectly civil conversation about politics. My mother had trouble believing an actor could be the President of the United States, whereas my father insisted Reagan was the man to rule the Land of Opportunity.
Tom and I didn’t care about politics. We pulled faces at each other when our parents weren’t looking and chattered about what to do with the rest of the summer holidays. Neither of us wanted to go back to school; it would get in the way of playing hide-and-seek until the streetlights came on—later if we could get away with it—or playing circus with Mrs. Bennett’s golden Labrador and my silver-and-pink-striped Hula-Hoop.
“Let’s go outside,” Tom said as he licked his bowl clean of the last remnants of soup, leaving an orangey moustache above his lips. “On our bikes. We can roll over the smiley ball.”
He didn’t need to ask twice. As soon as Mum had given her approval in the way of a curt nod, we hastily shoved our dishes in the kitchen sink and ran to the front door, ignoring our mother’s instructions to be careful.
Tom had found a yellow ball a few days earlier, and we’d drawn a big smiley face on it with black felt-tip pen. We’d pushed the ball into a hole in the middle of our street, so only the top half stuck out, then we’d driven over it again and again, laughing and wobbling on our bicycles. We both knew one of us would fall. That was the whole point. The question was who would first. My brother probably had a bet on with the other kids it would be me. He was right.
The seventh time I drove over the ball that night it burst with a loud ka-boom. I jumped. The bike swayed, my hands hit the brakes too hard and I lost my balance and tumbled to the ground.
Tom laughed until he heard me crying and saw the blood on my knees. He jumped off his bike and ran over.
“Gross,” he said, looking at my leg.
I cried harder, big fat tears rolling over my cheeks.
“I can see a bone,” he said and I gasped, then howled. Tom laughed again. “Nah. It’s a pebble.”
“Not funny,” I wailed.
He grinned at me. “You’d better stop crying or Mum will cut your leg off.”
I wiped my runny nose with the back of my hand, leaving a wet streak from my knuckle to the middle of my arm. “Not crying. Help me up.”
Despite Tom being a year younger, he was already freakishly tall and strong, too. He put his hands around my waist and pulled me up. I tried to ignore the blood leaking out of my knees and running down my legs, staining my dusty socks.
“I’ll take your bike,” Tom said. “Okay?”
“S’fine,” I said and limped home. And that’s when we saw Dad coming out of the house with a suitcase in each hand. He looked up at us and stopped walking, then put the luggage down and held out his arms.
“Where are you going?” Tom said as he hugged Dad.
“Away for a while.”
“Can I come?”
“No, little fella.” Dad ruffled my brother’s hair. “You need to stay here. Look after your mum and your sister for me.”
I looked at my father, frowned when I noticed the tears in his eyes. “When are you coming back, Daddy?”
My father pulled both of us close and kissed the tops of our heads. “I’m not sure, sweetheart. Soon.” His eyes quickly traveled toward the front door. “I’d better go.”
He released us from his grip and stuffed the suitcases in the trunk of our old VW Beetle. Another hug, another smile. More promises he’d see us soon, and then he left, sticking his arm out of the rolled-down window, waving as he drove away.
It was only as he disappeared around the corner that I realized he hadn’t stopped to question the blood running down my leg, hadn’t asked if I was okay.
Tom and I raced inside to find Mum where we’d left her, sitting at the kitchen table, which had already been cleared and wiped down. When she looked up at us, her face void of expression and with what appeared to be a fresh coat of makeup, the only thing she told us was, “Time for bed.”
* * *
“I suppose Dad must have had his reasons for not contacting us,” Tom said quietly, snapping me out of the memory and back to the coffee shop.
I smiled at him. Tom, my baby brother who was exactly a year younger than me—to the day. He’d spent his first few weeks in an incubator because he’d arrived two months early. When he told people it was because he’d been in a rush to meet his big sister, it made me feel so proud.
I was about to reply when the elderly couple got up. The man pointed at the change he’d left on the table next to their used plates and cups, and they both waved at us as they walked out, leaving the shop empty except for me and Tom.
“Mum probably told him never to set foot on her doorstep again or she’d turn him into a toad or something.” I shrugged. “Or maybe he just didn’t care.”
“Do you think he’s still alive? People don’t disappear like that, do they?”
“Well, with the amount of money Mum said he owed... I don’t know. Maybe we’ll find out one day.” I patted his arm. “In any case, she still lives in the same house, so it’s not like we’re difficult to find.”
The coffee shop door opened, and Liam stepped inside, his shirt speckled with rain droplets. As he walked toward us, my heart thumped against my rib cage like a beating drum.
“Ask him to move in with you, or I’m telling,” Tom hissed out of the corner of his mouth.
“Do that and you’ll go straight to hell,” I whispered back through clenched teeth.
“No worries, Shabby,” Tom said with a laugh. “I’ll see you down there.”
I laughed, too, as I hugged Liam, thinking there was no way Tom would ever go to hell.
But something inside me whispered that I probably would.
NOW
NANCY
“HAVE YOU SEEN anyone from next door lately?” I asked Zac and Liam as we cleared up after dinner together, me putting leftovers in the fridge, Liam washing up and Zac—under usual duress—haphazardly drying the dishes. Neither of them responded at first so I asked the question again.
Zac shrugged. “I see Sarah at school sometimes.”
“Oh, do you?” I said in an attempt to be the fun mum, which backfired immediately.
“It’s not like that,” he said with a huff, puff and eye roll. “I mean I see her around. In the corridors and stuff.”
“You could walk to school together,” I said. “You might have something in common.”
As Zac turned and put the glass dish on the counter I saw him meet Liam’s eye. “We’re not five, Mum,” Zac said. “You’ll be trying to arrange playdates for me next.”
Liam chuckled quietly, and I clenched my teeth. Why couldn’t he be on my side? It hurt when he made me feel like the odd one out. As for Zac, I was almost used to his verbal jabs and remembered being the same with both my parents at his age, but I missed him being the cuddly little boy he’d once been, always willing to wrap his arms around me like Mr. Tickle, whether his friends were watching or not. Time had passed so quickly, and these days I was lucky to get a hug on Christmas morning. My son was growing up, pulling away from me—and rightly so—and yet the legitimate distance it created between us hurt like sandpaper on an open wound.
I smiled breezily and looked at Zac with my head tilted to one side. “Playdates, that’s a good one. No, I just meant that I think Sarah’s—”
“Nan
cy,” Liam said, and I thought he was about to ever so politely tell me to back off, but he did a one-eighty. “I thought I’d take you out for dinner over the weekend.”
“That would be lovely.” I smiled back, a bit surprised yet delighted at the prospect. “The three of us haven’t been out for ages.”
“Actually,” Liam said as he flicked the kettle on, “I meant just the two of us.”
“But what about Zac? You want to come with us, don’t you, honey?”
“Like I said, I’m not five,” Zac snapped. “I’ll be perfectly happy on my own.”
“Watch your tone, Zac.” Liam pulled the rubbish bag out from under the sink and held it out toward him. “First of all, don’t speak to your mother like that. And second, empty the rest of the bins around the house.”
“But I’m drying—”
“Just get it done.”
Zac snatched the bag from Liam and stormed out of the kitchen, and within seconds I heard him stomping up the stairs.
“Thanks, love,” I whispered, glowing at the fact that Liam had sprung to my defense. “And by the way, I know he’s in touch with Sarah. They’re connected on Facebook.”
Liam pulled out the jar of coffee. Despite the fact that I’d bought one of those fancy machines, he hardly used it. According to him there was nothing wrong with instant. I smiled to myself, grateful that, despite his successful career, he’d remained a man of simple tastes. My heart fluttered, as it often did when I thought about him, about us, but then it almost stopped when Liam looked at me with his brow furrowed, eyes narrowing, judging me.
“And how do you know that?” he said.
I turned away so he couldn’t see my face flush. “I’ve been looking.”
“Nancy.”
“I’m his mother. I’m perfectly entitled to—”
“Snoop?”
We’d had this discussion before, and never agreed. He thought it was an invasion of Zac’s privacy. I thought it was good, old-fashioned common sense. Everybody looked at what their kids were doing online these days.
“Call it what you want,” I said. “It’s my job to keep tabs on him. Make sure he doesn’t—”
“You don’t need to keep tabs on him. He’s a good kid. He’s never been in any trouble.”
I crossed my arms. “You’re forgetting the incident at his last school.”
Liam stirred his coffee with more vigor than I thought necessary. “He didn’t start it.”
“Yeah, well. Anyway...while I was on Facebook I connected with Nate.”
“That’s nice.”
I knew he wouldn’t ask me why or show any signs if it bothered him. Honest to goodness, my husband was a smart man, but didn’t he realize a little bit of jealousy from his side would make me feel better? More confident and safe—more desired? But if I raised it he’d almost certainly counter that the ring on my finger should be enough reassurance.
It never had been. Not really.
I told myself to stop being so petulant and smiled again. “You know what, though? I couldn’t find Abby. I looked on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram—”
“Sounds laborious.”
“—but I couldn’t find her anywhere. Doesn’t that strike you as odd in this day and age? What deep, dark secrets do you think she’s hiding?” I’d meant it as another joke, but judging by Liam’s tone and expression, he didn’t find it funny.
“You know she lives next door, right?” he said. “If you have such a burning need for information, why don’t you go over there and ask?” His words stung as much as the look he threw my way.
“Baby, it’s not—”
“Some of us don’t want to spread our lives over the internet for all to see,” Liam said.
I stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, dear.” Liam sighed.
“Don’t ‘dear’ me. I hate it when you do that. So you think I post too much online?”
“Look.” Liam used his placid voice, the one that could calm me down or light my fuse in a second, depending on the situation. “I mean this in the nicest possible way, but I wonder if anybody’s interested in the paint colors you’re thinking of using, or the lunch you’ve made or...”
“I’ve got to share those things with somebody,” I snapped. “You’re not around much these days, are you?”
“Nancy...”
“The few girlfriends I have are back home, so I can’t see them. I’ve asked you to look at the plans for the house, but you’re either too busy or not here. You hardly take an interest—”
“I’ve taken on a new role at work, Nancy. More responsibility. More direct reports. You knew I’d be swamped for a while when you agreed to us coming here.”
“Sure, but I didn’t expect you to be so distant and preoccupied. Downright ratty, actually. And don’t even get me started on our sex life.” I glared at him, for once unwilling to back down and appease him, which felt surprisingly good.
Liam threw his arms into the air. “Where the hell did that come from? Actually, no. It doesn’t matter. I’m not having this conversation again. I’ve got work to do.”
“Of course you do,” I said icily as he turned and left.
Zac came back into the kitchen and plonked the full bin-bag on the floor. “There. And so you know, Mum, the walls in this house are really thin. So if you and Dad are going to argue about your, uh, sex life, can you do it when I’m not around? Gross.”
And just like that I stood alone in a half-cleaned kitchen with a full rubbish bag at my feet. This wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined starting our Easter weekend. There was no way I’d go out for dinner with Liam now. It would serve him right for being so rude. I picked up the bag and took it outside, grateful for the moment of fresh air. I briefly considered getting my jacket and going for a walk without saying anything, but it was cold, and I doubted Liam would notice I’d left.
“Bugger it!” I said out loud.
“Hey, Nancy.” Nate’s head popped up from the other side of his car and as I dropped the bag into the container and walked over, he wiped his hand on a rag. “Everything okay? Haven’t seen you in ages.”
Something inside me lit up a little when I saw his smile. Maybe it was just the sting from Liam’s indifference, but there was definitely something sexy about a man working on his car. Something a bit rough, primal, almost.
“Fine, fine,” I said. “The usual. Keeping busy.”
“Doing anything special for Easter?” He leaned against the car, still wiping the grease from his hands.
I hadn’t noticed his hands before. They looked strong, solid, with long fingers. I forced my gaze up to his face. “Uh, not really. More of the same, sorting stuff out, I suppose. You?”
“My brother, his wife and their twin girls are coming for the weekend.” His smile grew, positively beaming at the mention of them. Clearly the thought of spending time with his family was a good one, and I suddenly wished we had people visiting, too. I could have done with the company.
“That’s great,” I said. “Sounds like fun.”
“Yeah. It will be. So, uh...” Nate cleared his throat.
An awkward silence surrounded us as we looked at each other. It made me feel like an embarrassed teenager again, trying to come up with something intelligent to say.
Nate nodded toward his house. “I’d better go inside. I promised Abby I’d sort out some shelves in the spare bedroom before everyone arrives tomorrow.”
“She’s lucky to have a husband who’s so good with his hands,” I said, and winked at him. “Very lucky, indeed.” As the heat prickled the skin on my face, I wondered what on earth had gotten into me.
Nate laughed. “You tell her that next time you see her, okay? Put in a good word for me.”
“I will,” I answered, thankful he was oblivious or not willing to
take the bait. He gave me a wave, and I watched him walk back to his house and disappear inside.
As I wandered toward my front door, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind, I decided I was done going unnoticed in my own home. My husband had to start paying more attention to me.
And I’d just found the perfect person to help make that happen.
NOW
SARAH
Dear Diary,
It’s the school holidays, but I wish I could go back to class. Mum’s so grumpy, it’s like she’s got her period all the time. She bit my head off yesterday when I asked if she knew where my phone was. Aren’t you old enough to look after your own stuff, Sarah? It was only a question!
Even Dad’s been treating her with thicker kid gloves than usual. Sometimes I wish he’d tell her to fuck off. Like on Tuesday night, when I overheard this:
Dad: Did you pick up a chocolate Easter bunny for Sarah?
Mum: No, I forgot. (Huh? The Oracle of Details never forgets anything!)
Dad: Any chance you could get one?
Mum: I’ve done the shopping and it’ll be mayhem at Tesco’s. You go.
I hoped Dad would say something about the tone, but he didn’t. He’s just too nice. Later on Mum told me she didn’t get me a bunny because she thought I was too old, and did I mind? I said I didn’t care, so we both lied which makes us equal. I know it’s stupid and, yeah, I’m sixteen, but I thought it was kind of a tradition and it’s not like we have many of those.
At least Uncle Paul, Lynne and the twins are coming this weekend so the house won’t be like a funeral home for a few days. I mean, it’s usually only Dad, Mum and me for holiday weekends and stuff. It’s not like we have much family around.
Anyway, last week Dad suggested we invite the neighbors over soon. Both Mum and I said NO straight away. I don’t want to spend time with idiot aka Zac. He tried to start a conversation with me the other day. Ugh. Like we have anything remotely in common.
Mum told Dad they were probably still busy getting themselves organized after the move, and we should leave them time to settle in. It was the first sensible, non-snappy thing I’d heard her say for ages, and I thought maybe she was back to normal.
The Neighbors Page 7