‘Okay. When will she be back?’
Panic flickered through her eyes, like a fish darting through a riverbed. ‘Not till this afternoon. And then she’ll need to sleep. She gets really tired after working all day.’
‘What does she do?’ I tried to sound curious, not concerned.
‘She’s a cleaner. She does Hatherstone Hall weekday mornings, and then some houses in the afternoons but on Saturday she spends the whole day at the hall. She goes on her bike.’
‘And then she sleeps? That doesn’t sound like much fun.’
‘She’s not very well at the moment. That’s why she has to sleep so much.’
‘Is there anyone else here to look after you?’
Joan lifted her chin. ‘I can look after myself.’
‘I’m sure you can. But I’m on my own all day today, too. It’s my first weekend living without my mum, so if you wanted to bring your book over, have some company, that would be fine.’
Joan pursed her lips. ‘Maybe. I’ll see how I get on.’
‘Okay, great.’ I turned to go, then stopped to add, ‘I’ve also got far too much food for lunch, if you wanted to help me eat some. I’m not used to shopping for one person, either.’
Joan gave me one sharp nod, and closed the door.
I took another look at the giant packages and decided it was time to meet my other neighbour, the one sandwiched between Joan and Leanne and End Cottage.
If I wasn’t so desperate I’d have given up waiting long before the front door finally creaked open. Was this how things worked in the countryside? You finished what you were doing, put the kettle on, faffed about for a few more minutes and then got around to answering the door?
But when I saw who’d answered it, my impatience was instantly replaced with a mixture of guilt and sympathy. The man who now hunched a good few inches below me looked as though it had taken every last ounce of energy just to open the old door. He had no hair on his head, though a bristling beard covered his chin. Dappled legs poked out of baggy cargo shorts, and he wore a T-shirt that said, With a body like this, who needs hair?
‘Yes?’
‘Hi.’ I smiled. I had spent a lot of time with older people in the Buttonhole, and knew that if you didn’t speak as if they were deaf, senile or stupid, they generally appreciated it. ‘I’m Ollie, I’ve moved in next door and thought I’d come and say hello. I hope I didn’t disturb you?’
He looked me up and down. ‘Well, you did.’
‘Right. Sorry.’ I waited for him to accept my apology, but from the look on his face I’d be waiting all day. ‘And, um, you are…？’
‘None of your business.’ He took so long to slam the door that it took on the guise of slow-motion. I was so taken aback that by the time it finally clicked closed, I was still just standing there.
Great.
Across the road was an empty field. I could try the houses further down the lane, but after that welcome I wasn’t feeling optimistic. I spent a wistful minute or two imagining how switching the beds would become a funny, romantic story were my Dream Man here to take the bulk of the weight on his broad shoulders, before slapping that pathetic fantasy to one side and determining to solve this problem alone.
Right. First things first… another cup of tea.
It was nearly eleven by the time I’d donned disposable gloves and had succeeded in wrestling the old mattress off the bed. In between the odd retch caused by my face coming within inches of the worst combination of smells imaginable, I was eventually able to get it through the bedroom door. By the time I’d manhandled it to the top of the stairs, I was dripping with sweat, scarlet-cheeked and covered in grime and dust. However, the next bit was easy – one good shove and the mattress skidded down the stairs, momentum carrying it right out of the front door.
‘Ow!’ The loud yell was accompanied by an ominous clattering noise. I waited at the top of the stairs, my body frozen in a wince.
‘What the hell?’
Tiptoeing down the stairs, I peered out the door to see a man untangling himself from a mountain bike, a process that was hindered by being on top of a saggy old mattress.
‘I’m so sorry!’ I gasped, trying to squash down the urge to laugh.
‘It’s bad enough having all these boxes obstructing the pavement. Next time, maybe check the coast is clear before shooting a large object out your front door,’ the man replied as he finally jerked free from the bike.
‘I was at the top of the stairs. I couldn’t see that far.’ I cringed. ‘Barely anyone ever goes past the house, so I didn’t think to call out a warning. At least you had a soft landing.’