To Love Thy Neighbour

by S M Mala

  ‘I need a gardener, so Esme says,’ sighed Ralph. ‘Are you free to come over this evening to look at my piece of scruffy land? I’ll pay you, obviously, for your time.’

  ‘I’d love to but I have a five-year-old and she’ll be in bed so I can’t. Maybe one afternoon over the weekend?’ Leon said, hoping the man wouldn’t turn on his heels and walk off. All work was valuable to Leon, mostly because he needed the income. ‘Or first thing in the morning?’

  ‘Can’t your wife look after her?’

  ‘I’m a single parent.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Ralph looked sympathetically at him. ‘I was a single parent for about six months when my ex decided she wanted some space. Two teenagers to contend with was enough to drive me mad. They come here when they’re at a loose end or need cash.’ He let out a disgruntled sigh. ‘Saturday morning would be great. Welcome to the neighbourhood!’

  Ralph shook his hand before heading back across the road, and getting into his expensive Mercedes Benz to drive off.

  ‘I could always look after her,’ he heard a voice say from behind a tree as a woman stepped out.

  It was the same one he saw the day he moved in.

  Instantly he smiled and noticed she was wearing ripped jeans, DeWalt safety boots and a baggy hooded top covered in paint.

  She was also extremely attractive.

  ‘I’m Esme,’ she said, walking out and looking around before putting her hand out, which he gladly shook. ‘I met Mali and your mother a few weeks ago. I’ve wanted to pop round but I’ve seen the stream of neighbours coming in, so I thought I’d give you some space.’

  ‘Oh yes!’ he said, still holding onto her hand before she pulled it out of his palm. ‘Those samosas were great. Mali loves spicy food.’

  ‘Really?’ Esme laughed, and Leon didn’t know what to think. He was shocked that he had a good looking female neighbour. ‘Ah well, I can always make some if you want. Just pop me a note. And we need to sort out the gate. Your daughter likes to visit me, but I expect you want a lock on it. I can arrange it.’

  ‘If you want,’ he shrugged. ‘I told her not to come into your garden but our garden is a mess.’

  ‘I don’t mind. It’s perfectly safe. Mali is the most beautiful child, other than my son, of course.’

  Then he remembered what his mother said and looked at Esme closely.

  ‘And it was your birthday recently?’

  Her smile instantly faded, and she let out a miserable sigh.

  ‘Is that a sore point?’ he asked, realising she looked upset. ‘Sorry. My mum’s the same.’

  ‘Getting older is always a sore point. One side says I should be happy I’m healthy, happy and alive. The other side says, well, fifty. When I was forty, it was bad enough but fifty? I’m still getting used to it.’

  ‘You don’t look it, honestly.’

  ‘That’s really sweet,’ she said, letting out a small laugh. ‘Anyway, nice to meet you again. I’m late for a job.’

  Leon then looked over his shoulder and noticed the white van with the ‘Handy Mommas’ logo on it.

  ‘It’s not a travelling brothel though some people thought so at the time.’ She glanced over at the large house. ‘We specialise in DIY projects and the team are all women. Sometimes mums and women who are at home in the daytime, they don’t like men traipsing in and trying to confuse them with their bloke speech. Usually in a patronising manner.’

  ‘Ralph mentioned about vehicles.’ Leon smiled as she started to grin. ‘And you run you own business?’

  ‘I have two. The DIY one and the coffee one. I have a mobile coffee shop outside the tube station. I do the very early shift, and someone else takes over later on in the morning. I wish I could open a coffee shop, but I never had the funds, and I’m doing what I like.’ Esme glanced at her watch. ‘Ralph doesn’t have a long day. He’s home by fifty thirty so you can drop Mali off at mine and see him. Fleece him for every penny you’ve got. He’s a posh rich boy!’

  ‘Were you avoiding him? Are you two together?’

  ‘Oh no!’ she laughed, opening her van door and getting in. ‘My son would kill me!’

  Esme waved as she drove off as he mumbled under his breath,

  ‘God, if only you were younger. I’d be in there like a shot.

  ‘Very handsome but young.’

  Esme was painting a skirting board as Tracy put the new door handles on. They were working on a project in a large house for a widow. ‘And he likes to wear shorts all the time. I thought he could have been Australian at first. They do that sort of thing, don’t they?’

  ‘And he’s got a kid?’ Tracy asked, looking at her. Her colleague was quite large with a shock of blonde hair which she put into a ponytail at the top of her head. It resembled a pineapple. ‘He’s probably looking for a surrogate mother for him and her. You should get in there.’ Then she grinned. ‘But you’re not into that, are you?’

  ‘If the right man came along I’d be more than happy,’ she said, checking that the paint hadn’t run under the masking tape. ‘But he hasn’t, since I split with Oscar, and I don’t expect it to happen. I’ve probably missed my chance.’

  ‘You’ve spent too long dedicating your life to Alfie.’

  ‘I had to.’

  ‘Just because he’s gay doesn’t mean you need to protect him. Not going out with men for nearly … how long?’

  ‘Do we have to?’ groaned Esme, knowing what was going to come next.

  ‘Ten long years you’ve not been with someone.’ Tracy glanced over. ‘I know you’ve had sex in between then.’

  ‘Don’t go saying that,’ Esme hissed, shaking her head and knowing that was a big secret. She didn’t even tell Tracy who it was. ‘I don’t speak about it.’

  ‘Okay, we won’t discuss your secret life, but dearest, you need someone. Alfie’s all grown up, going out with old men.’ She then laughed out loudly because Esme knew she pulled a face in response. ‘What about you? You can’t spend the rest of your life decorating other people’s homes and serving coffee in the early hours of the morning?’

  Putting down her paint brush, she sat back on her heels then looked around the room.

  ‘You know Violet who lives here? She waited for her kids to move out so she can now set up home with her secret lover of five years. The kids don’t know, and this is why we are doing the work. To make it perfect for them.’

  ‘Isn’t she in her late sixties?’ frowned Tracy, getting out her drill.

  ‘Maybe I’ll find someone when Alfie’s settled down and made me a grandmother.’

  ‘You need to do internet dating or something.’ Then Tracy frowned. ‘And please, not Ralph.’

  ‘Alfie said the same thing. I’m meeting Steph for a coffee later on, and I expect she’ll agree with you.’

  ‘He gives out a bad aura, babes,’ Steph said, in her English stroke American accent while drinking her extremely large soya latte while Esme stuck to a cup of tea.

  They met at a coffee shop on the main road because Steph was on her way to work at the local charity shop. She gave her free time to sorting out the donations and working in the retail area.

  ‘He’s not that bad,’ Esme laughed, knowing Alfie had told his grandmother something.

  ‘That man is the opposite of all your ideals and you know it. Don’t go there!’

  She looked at her ex-husband’s mother and smiled.

  Steph was striking. Her skin was smooth and shiny, the hair a shock of white blonde that she wore in a short bob. Lately, she had taken to wearing Chinese embroidered jackets from her trip a few years back to her spiritual ancestral motherland, as she called it.

  Steph wasn’t Chinese. She was born in England from a well-to-do family, but never felt that she fitted in. Marrying Oscar’s father made her feel at one with herself.

  Until she upped and left him.

  She was looking very healthy and slim. Steph had always been overweight but in the past five years she had gone on a health
drive, mainly because she was to turn seventy the following year. Her impending sixty-ninth birthday was coming up in the summer, and the woman was planning a party.

  It seems aging had propelled Steph into rethinking her life and embracing it.

  Far from how Esme felt about turning fifty.

  ‘Ralph’s even worse than my son,’ said Steph, shrugging her shoulders. ‘And that’s saying something.’

  ‘Have you heard from him?’

  ‘He sent me a Christmas card and little else. And Alfie says he’s not received a call from him in weeks.’

  Esme could see the disappointment in Steph’s eyes. Her only son not only walked out on his marriage and a child, but turned his back on his mother.

  This is where Esme was stumped on what to do.

  ‘Don’t say it,’ Steph said before Esme could open her mouth. ‘Don’t try and be your diplomatic self when you know there’s nothing to say. He made his choice, and we have to carry the brunt of it, and he goes to big success with his ugly new family. She’s rich; that’s why he married her. And those grandkids? They’re no beauties, and it’s obvious my blood doesn’t flow through their veins! What a load of bullshit!’

  ‘I saw him on television the other day,’ Esme whispered, knowing Steph would have seen him too. ‘The Governor of New York is a big job and he was talking about something or another.’

  ‘All political hot wind. He wants to be a Senator, you know. So I’ve heard. God help the democrats if that’s what sort of man they want.’ Letting out a long sigh, Steph smiled at Esme. ‘I’m sorry I produced such a single-minded bastard for a son. Had I only known, I would have drowned him at birth. But I was eighteen and didn’t know any better at the time.’

  ‘Steph, don’t start this again. The man has a new life and a new family. It’s Alfie who doesn’t want anything to do with him. Oscar has tried but-.’

  ‘Can you blame the child?’

  It hurt Esme to say it, even though she had been divorced from him for fifteen years, a lot of damage had been done. And she still cared about Oscar, regardless of his ridiculous actions.

  ‘Do you think that’s why Alfie’s with that decrepit faggot?’ Esme hissed. ‘And you know I would never say that about anyone else other than that thing!’

  ‘You think he’s looking for a father figure?’ laughed out Steph. ‘My son is still a looker but Vincent? Too much cosmetic work and so little talent. Alfie will see it for himself.’

  ‘But what if that’s what Alfie’s looking for? Someone like his dad.’

  ‘Oscar should never have walked out on you,’ whispered her ex-mother in law. ‘I know it broke your heart.’

  ‘And you didn’t have to say what you did,’ Esme frowned, hating being reminded of what happened. ‘It shouldn’t have turned out like this, not for you. For Alfie? Well, that says a lot about the hypocrisy of Oscar Reeves, not you.’

  ‘It was time. I didn’t want my grandson to suffer. Seeing that his own father didn’t understand or want to accept that his son was gay, well, that threw me. It’s not the way I brought my children up. I wanted them to have an open mind, not be so blinkered.’

  ‘Steph, you did the ultimate thing to wind him up.’

  ‘I came out of the closet after being shut tightly in for fifty-five years. So what if I’m a lesbian? Okay, Reginald was a bit shocked but that ex-husband of mine could never keep it in his pants and made out he was heartbroken. He was more upset I’d get his money because he couldn’t prove I’d been unfaithful.’ She let out a loud laugh then instantly looked upset. ‘If Oscar can’t accept it, so be it. But the fact he can’t accept his son is gay and blamed both you and I. He doesn’t deserve to have Alfie in his life, does he?’

  And it was the last sentence that left the conundrum for Esme.

  She thought Alfie did need his dad, but that would be the hardest thing she would ever have to fix, even with her outstandingly good DIY skills.

  ‘What she doing?’

  Mali was looking out of her bedroom window. ‘Can I see?’

  Leon walked towards the window and noticed Esme was in her garden, cutting back quite a few plants. The woman looked dangerous with the secateurs in her hand.

  ‘I think she’s gardening,’ he replied, glancing out. ‘If that’s what you call it.’

  ‘You do gardening. Shall we help?’

  ‘No, I’m sure she knows what she’s doing,’ he lied, flinching at the woman hacking at a bush. ‘We have to go to Nana’s for lunch. Are you ready yet?’

  She dressed herself and Leon tried not to laugh as she did a slow turn.

  Mali had white leggings on and a large long sleeved blue t-shirt with a pink tutu. Wrapped around her head was a floral headband, topped off with some plastic bracelets.

  ‘You look beautiful, but I can see you didn’t brush your hair,’ he said, pretending to frown. ‘Did you brush your teeth?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, frowning back at him.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Yesterday.’

  His child was far too cute for him to try and stay angry. He held out his hand and escorted her to the bathroom as she brushed her teeth then combed her hair, without taking off the headband.

  She walked out of the bathroom and down the stairs. He glanced out of the window and noticed Mali was running down the garden and opened the gate, glancing up at her father mischievously, before going in. He winced thinking the neighbour might accidentally use her tools on Mali, considering she didn’t look too stable when gardening.

  Leon noticed Esme immediately stopped what she was doing, and to his relief put the secateurs down, and smiled before telling Mali not to get her clothes dirty. Then she stood up and admired the outfit.

  Leon was admiring the outfit but not Mali’s. Esme was wearing a jumper and workmen overalls underneath. There was a gap to the side, and he could see her bare skin and knickers. Then she took off her hat, letting her hair fall while shaking it out.

  It was quite a while since Leon had sex, and the sight of the middle-aged woman was getting him excited. He knew he would have to call Zoe, a single mother who was happy to have sex with him, though no strings attached. He took his phone out of his pocket and sent her a text to see if she was free that week to meet up.

  Within seconds, she pinged back and told him to come to her home after lunch on Wednesday.

  He didn’t realise that Mali and Esme were looking up at him. The woman smiled and waved, kissed Mali on the cheek before his daughter walked through the gate and back into their house.

  ‘Daddy, can we go to Nana’s? I’m hungry!’ his child shouted out.

  ‘Sure,’ he replied, watching Esme bend down, and he caught a brief glimpse of her arse and prayed for Wednesday to come soon.

  ‘Oh Leon, darlin’ yes! Fuck me ‘ard!’ said Zoe in her thick, cockney accent.

  It reminded him of his ex – but not in an appealing way.

  Her legs were up and spread wide apart on the bed as he humped her. Leon balanced her calves in his hands while he ground as deeply as he could. Zoe liked to rub herself while he screwed her, saying no man could do it as well as she could. For him, it was great.

  Having sex and watching her masturbate was a double pleasure.

  She was lovely looking woman, with short brown hair and a reasonably fit body for a forty-five-year-old. Her breasts were quite small but the rest of her body rounder. He knew she liked her sex, but after a messy divorce and a couple of troublesome boyfriends, she wanted a fuck buddy, little else.

  This suited Leon perfectly.

  Except for when Zoe spoke.

  She had a very deep gruff voice, deeper than Leon’s.

  And she swore like a trouper but mainly during sex.

  Sometimes, if he were honest and he closed his eyes, she sounded like a man.

  The only thing was, he missed the tenderness of lovemaking.

  Being with Zoe was just a fuck.

  No more. No less.

  He could
feel the tightening of his balls and the tingling sensation in his dick, knowing he was going to come. Silently he climaxed, ignoring the sounds coming from Zoe’s mouth.

  When he finished, he gently pulled out and kissed her forehead, saying, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Thank you!’ she said, her legs still splayed as he took off the condom, before putting it on kitchen paper. Zoe always had a roll by her bed. He never asked why. ‘You were fuckin’ good today. Where you been?’

  ‘Moving home,’ he said, getting up slowly but feeling his legs begin to wobble. ‘Mali’s having a problem settling into her room.’

  ‘She’s such a darlin’. I saw ‘er the other day. What a smashin’ lookin’ kid. Takes after ‘er dad.’

  ‘Shit!’ he said, looking at his watch. ‘I’ve got to pick her up from school today.’

  Rushing about, he got dressed and headed downstairs.

  Zoe lived in a maisonette which was part of a council block of flats. She had three sons ranging from twenty-seven to six. The middle child was currently being held at her majesty’s prison.

  ‘Leon! Come ‘ave a cup of tea first. You’ll die of stress!’ she laughed out, putting on her skimpy dressing gown that hung to her larger curves.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, knowing he had ten minutes.

  And she had been more than willing today considering he hadn’t made contact for six weeks. Leon watched her put the condom in the bottom of the bin. Turning the kettle on, she smiled.

  ‘You are such an ‘andsome young man. Why’ve you not got a girl?’

  ‘I’ve been told by my mother and child I have to find a Jewish young lady. Bennylita being Malaysian, and then walking out after Mali was born, only heightens my mother’s resolve.’

  ‘Bitch that one!’

  ‘You never met her.’

  ‘What sort of woman leaves her two-week old child?’ huffed Zoe, shaking her head furiously.

  ‘Because…’

  ‘Because she’s a bad woman who didn’t love that baby.’

  Leon had told Zoe the whole shabby story and didn’t like to hear it repeated.