The light showed that it was certainly in better condition than that which had been broken. The pot itself was full of rich-looking compost and had a note attached. Kicking her shoes off, she headed to flick the kettle on as she unfolded it. There, in what she could only term as a creative scrawl, were the wordsSorry about the pot, and the van, here’s something for spring.
What a lovely thought. It certainly went above and beyond all expectations. Damn! Now she doubly wished she had asked his name, and not been so rude. She would have to say something to her neighbours in the morning. There was no way she could let a kindness like this go unremarked.
Rosy hugged a smile to herself. The day hadn’t been that bad; she had survived Marksharp, and then to finish it was her lovely doorstep gift. As she curled up, slippers on, remote in one hand, tub of ice cream in another, she popped the TV on and prepared to relax. But all night that smile stayed on her face, and broadened every time she looked up at her promise of spring on the window sill.
Chapter Two
The next day Rosy was determined to have a long laze under the covers, read a book and drink two cups of tea before getting up properly. Her mind may have been awake far too early (it didn’t seem to understand weekends) but there was no way she was going to let her body comply.
One cup of tea and a couple of chapters down and athump thump thumpon the door jolted her from her Saturday morning idyll. Popping her head out of the bedroom window, she spotted that it was for her new neighbours instead. It was going to be weird having people next door, because despite years of decoding the bumps and bangs of her previous neighbour, she had been used to complete silence for several months now. And liked it. It meant she could sing as loud (and it was loud) as she wanted, into hairbrushes and wine bottles, without any shame.
Their visitor was very glamorous, draped in a fake fur coat, balancing upon heels higher than any ever seen in the village before, and hair so perfectly styled she must’ve risen at dawn. As Rosy examined the top of the woman’s head she could almost hear the twitter of small birds embedded within the pyramid of blonde hair à la pre-revolutionary French court.
This vision of perfection was tarnished by the dog accompanying her. The woman was gripping the lead fiercely and glaring at the dog as if she didn’t trust him one iota. Which, given the look of him, was probably wise. He was the scruffiest dog Rosy had ever seen, a great big tangle of dark grey with a very naughty look on his face. Rosy’s profession meant she was well versed in Very Naughty Faces and this one was glowing with mischief. Glowing with mischief as he jumbled around his owner’s feet, looking as if he would topple her any minute and quite deliberately so. Rosy’s heart melted a little bit.
Having knocked at the door again, the woman was now trying to stop the dog’s antics by whipping the end of the lead at him. Rosy tried to stifle a giggle; she knew that the dog was going to love this game.
Perfect Hair glanced up at Rosy’s window, after a poorly aimed kick caused the dog to speed up the circles he was gleefully running in, and tutted loudly. Which, combined with the sneer she shot at the same time, was a pretty impressive skill. Rosy had a quick try, but it wasn’t as easy as Perfect Hair made it look.
However it seemed neither sneering nor tutting was persuading the dog to obedience. He was now snapping at her ankles, darting in and out as he did so and increasing Perfect Hair’s bad temper. She knocked again, but less glamour-puss, more police raid this time, loud enough for the dog to pause in its tumble and look startled.
‘Honestly, you didn’t need to lock the bloody—’ Her voice, loud and a combination of rage and drawling entitlement, was cut off mid-sentence as the door opened. Then, with another high level of skill, she managed to deliver two killer looks consecutively, one at the door-opener, who was hidden from view and Rosy was itching to see, and an even more brutal one up at Rosy’s window.
Normally remorse over snooping would have made Rosy duck back behind the window. She wasn’t a natural curtain-twitcher, but the dog’s antics had been so compelling she hadn’t realized she was still staring until Perfect Hair’s second pointed glance of evil.
The hairs on the back of her neck fizzed and then her arm jerked up, but instead of pulling the curtains shut and bowing her head in shame, her fingers waggled in greeting, a grin – as mischievous as the dog’s – on her face in the split second before her second new neighbour stormed into the house. She supposed that was two apologies she owed them now!
More irritatingly, there was no way Rosy was going to be able to get comfy back in bed now. It was almost as if having been seen up she was duty-bound to actually get up. She knew it wasn’t pleasant to judge people, especially not at first glance, but she had a feeling that she and the next-door neighbours might not get on. Fancy not being able to be nice to something as cute and fluffy as that dog! She wondered what the husband was going to be like. Was he also going to be a perfectly coiffed city type that kicked small animals?
Enough with the judgements. Power of positive thought (Harmony would be proud) – her new neighbours were bound to be lovely and she should know better. She was going to stop assuming the worst and do some baking. That way she could get a welcome-to-the-neighbourhood-sorry-I-was-peeping cake made, race through her chores and maybe take a quick, reaffirming walk on the beach.
Two hours later there was a lemon drizzle cake cooling on the side, the house had been cleaned, albeit in a fairly slapdash way, top to bottom, her wellies were on and a chocolate cake was in her hands. She was all ready to head next door. Mean preconceptions were forced out of her head, and gratitude for the sweet plant pot by their removal man was at the fore. She gave a little shake, reminding herself not to stare evilly at Perfect Hair, and to make a point of passing on her gratitude for the plant whilst looking as welcoming as possible. Beam, beam, beam.
The winter sun was streaming through the breaks in the cloud as she wandered down her path and through the country-cottage gate that took her, in turn, to their gate and path, the clouds of pink flowers cascading down the drystone walls as was typical of the county. Balancing the plate on her hand carefully, she knocked loudly on the door and, biting her lower lip, braced herself to meet the family that would be living next door to her for the foreseeable future.
Her heart sank as the woman from earlier answered the door. Fake smile plastered on Rosy’s face, she proffered the cake.
‘I thought I’d come and say hello, and welcome to the village. I live—’
‘It’s not me you want,’ snapped Perfect Hair.
Thank the Lord for that, just keep smiling.
‘Stay here!’ the horror barked as she spun on her vertigo-causing heels and headed back into the cottage. She was swiftly replaced by the four-legged ball of wool that came bowling down the hallway and started jumping up at Rosy.
Kneeling down with her plate held high, she made a fuss of the little thing. He really was the cutest dog ever, like a big old ball of tumbleweed. He started jumping up, licking her face and sniffing for cake, presumably desperate for affection if Perfect Hair was what he was used to.
‘Scramble, get down. Leave her alone, here, let me take that,’ came a familiar male voice suddenly standing over her and removing the plate.
Rosy looked up to see the smiling face of the removal man from yesterday and once again could feel a flush seeping from the roots of her hair down to her toes. Oh, bloody hell!
‘And let me help you up.’ He reached out his free hand to her. ‘Scramble, get back! I’m so sorry, but if it makes you feel any better he’s a good judge of character. He just never really got the hang of puppy school.’
‘He’s OK. I don’t mind. Really, I don’t. He’s just saying hello.’Please stop blushing, please stop blushing, don’t say that out loud.She noticed he was holding the cake. Oh God, what was it she had wanted to say?
‘I thought, since I’m your new neighbour, I’d better come and say hello properly and bring you cake to welcome you officially to the village and so on. Everyone is pretty lovely here really, I’m sure you’ll settle in just fine.’ Great, now she was prattling. What was happening to her?
‘That’s really kind of you, especially after I messed you about last night. My name’s Matt, by the way, and it’s a pleasure to meet you – officially, that is.’ He stretched out his hand and twinkled his eyes. Rosy hadn’t realized that ‘twinkled’ was something you could do before now. But she was learning.
