Marian kept the key to number 30 in the kitchen drawer with all the batteries. She didn’t like to have it hung in the hallway. It was probably used more than it should have been, the key.
The driveways of number 28 and 30 were divided only by a decorative line of bricks, a border between her poured concrete and their sleek paving. Number 30 stood on its own at the end of the Cul-de-sac. It had been built last on the estate, finished after she and Neil had bought 28 in 1969. It was different to all the other houses that were mini terraces and semi-detached. It looked nearly the same but somehow it didn’t seem part of them properly, it seemed bigger and grander. Detached. Oddly placed though, she thought, stuck on the end opposite that big unruly hedge the council never looked after.
Marian’s knees were starting to resist her. She could feel the liquid gathering in the joints, like balloons. She let herself in through the front door of number 30 for the second time that day. Obscured from the rest of the road the house was nice and private. The cat must need more food by now.
The Buckles had been Marian’s neighbours for a year now, but that was still new here, most of them had lived in these roads since their construction. Dave and Rachel, the Buckles, had entrusted Marian with the key only very recently that year. They had a white hallway with a striped carpet on the stairs, which she rather liked, the living room had butter-coloured walls and a pale wood floor; a north facing room it still felt cold to Marian, and shaded by that ridiculous hedge.
Marian’s hips brushed against the dividing door always left ajar, she wasn’t sure why, but she felt like she couldn’t move it. Marian looked out over the garden through the large kitchen window, Rachel was no gardener that was very clear. Marian often thought about bringing over her trowel to weed the borders for them, but a small voice in her head told her that would be too obvious. But she had the key and she liked to nip in and check on things while they were out. Nearly every day now. She would do her duties silently like an elf not making too much impact, but looking after things all the same- like moving the bills to the top of the letter piles they seemed to accumulate. She didn’t want any to be missed.
‘Puss puss puss’ she called softly in the kitchen. Knees protesting again at having to fetch the bowl from the floor ‘come on puss, come and have some chicken.’ Their cat, Rebel, was a scraggy little grey thing. To Marian he looked dusty, like he had tried to climb the chimney. She’d told Dave last September when she had caught him in the driveway: if they weren’t going to use the fireplace, they should get it sealed properly. Although it wasn’t clear if Rebel had ever climbed the chimney Marian felt she should tell Dave this nonetheless.
‘You want to avoid having a pigeon fall down there’ she had told him ‘Alison and Martin across the road had one get stuck and it made such a racket before it died, then they had to get a man out. Oh, you should ask them who it was because I can’t remember the name on the van but I’m sure they would tell you to get it sealed.’ Dave hadn’t replied he had been looking in the boot of his car. ‘Would you like me to ask Alison to look it up for you?’
‘Oh, um no that’s ok thank you, we will look for someone online’ Dave had replied over his shoulder while walking into the house with his bag for life.
Marian surveyed the detritus on the kitchen table again, waiting for the cat to appear. Her task, one she had given herself, was to feed Rebel up. At first the chicken was to coax him back to the house when Marian called but now he expected it and came willingly for his afternoon snack. She shuffled the papers a little bit to get a better sense of what had been left this time, mostly it was free flyers crumpled where they had been shoved through the letterbox.
The Chinese takeaway menu looked very nice for a free leaflet. They must have found this place online, as she and Neil had never had one through the door. Neil did not eat Chinese food but Marian would have liked to have something this nice come through the door instead of the incessant flimsy garish pictures of pizzas. ‘Beijing Palace’ she read aloud ‘quite far, must be very good’, she said and looked around for Rebel again, he was tearing into the chicken pieces with gusto. Marian lifted the thick matte menu card off the table careful not to disturb the other scatterings of post too much. It wasn’t stapled as she had first assumed, it concertinaed. The type face was nice and clear, a dark brown on the white. Very tasteful, she thought. There were two dishes marked on the first page, the prices underlined with a blue highlighter. These must be items they always order. Marian read closely; the words unfamiliar to her. Seaweed £4.10, ¼ Crispy aromatic duck ‘eleven pounds?’ she whispered in surprise. Turning the fold to look further on. Chicken and satay sauce £6.80, Crispy shredded beef £7.00. Opening it out fully and looking overleaf ‘Egg. Fried. Rice’ £3.50. Marian sat for a while imagining being at the table with the Buckle’s as they ate their takeaway.
***
As the Buckle’s twins had turned from babies to children, it was as though the house had grown extra parts for them. New hooks for little coats had bloomed from the walls in the hall, stickers sprinkled the living room at Marian’s hip height. No surface was sacred. The kitchen cupboards, now a gallery for their drawings each piece rustled for attention in any breeze created by a passer-by. The landscape canvases hung carefully by Dave were now adorned with pink star shaped fairy lights. The ornamental logs in the unused unsealed fireplace now the perfect hiding place for pink and white feathers which sprouted from the gaps like alien fern fronds.
An already full house was now saturated like a cup overfilled with water one more drop and everything would escape from the containing walls. Marian supposed they would have to move soon, they had spent five years here. She eyed the door into the lean-to suspiciously, they had built it for more space. She had mentioned Alex could have done it for them, he was a builder it wasn’t like he just did odd jobs for his parents, he had qualifications. She had even carefully dropped a note with his contact details onto the doormat, it hadn’t occurred to Marian to post it through the door rather than drop it to make it look as if it had. But they hadn’t called Alex.
Marian sank onto the one of the chairs at the dining room table. Now using both hands to steady herself; her left knee had a bothersome way of suddenly losing its strength at certain angles. These seconds always gave her time to consider her hands, the way her wedding ring was well and truly wedged on now. Gloomy images of nurses having to cut it from her finger nudged at the edges of her thoughts. Neil convinced he would go first.
‘Men are always outlived by their wives love, don’t worry.’ He would say to her when she shared a concern about her health. She worried. Neil could still drive; his joints weren’t ganging up on him, she would waste away without him. But then, her ring would come off on its own. Marian found herself considering death more and more. It was all her friends had to talk about who was sick and who was dead.
Rebel rubbed against her ankles, he was looking thin again, these new food measures they had insisted on were making him waste away! Poor love. Marian had spent the best part of the last four years keeping him happy and plump on chicken or turkey. That was until the vet had told Rachel he was too heavy and must be eating somewhere else too, now he wasn’t allowed out and had been put on a new diet. Rachel had told Marian in the driveway about how Rebel must have a second home or something because they were being so strict. So Marian had to stop the chicken. She didn’t stop going in to see Rebel though, keeping him company now he was hungry and alone and of course the girls meant so much more admin. Now she moved school letters to the top of the piles there was always something to sign for with primary school. They didn’t seem to get bills any more Dave must have put them all online. Alex had done the same for her and Neil insisting it was better.
The folder was lurid green. She spotted it amongst the breakfast debris still on the table Marian chided herself at going blind, it was so bright how could she miss it? ‘Enfield’s’ it boasted. A local estate agent. So they were moving.
‘What will you do puss?’ She looked down at Rebel who was sharpening his claws on the table leg. ‘Stop that’ she said sharply and before she knew it, she felt the warmth of his body through her slipper before he slid across the floor. He stayed still for a moment too long.
Later that night Marian decided to blame her knee for the force she had used. Her muscles no longer obeyed her. Rebel’s screech and hiss hung on her ears like a stone earing, shining and heavy with guilt. He had limped away up the stairs to hide. Knowing it was close to school home time she had not followed him. Now she regretted never having gone upstairs. Not just to check on the cat but to have a look around; she would have liked to see Sophie and Isabelle’s room. This was one of the little rules she set herself not to go upstairs.
The rules were why her system had worked for so long. They said it about nature reserves- leave only footprints. Well Marian didn’t even leave those in bad weather when the driveway was wet she took a second pair of slippers to put on over the doormat. Not that Rachel cleaned the floors often enough to notice footprints. She also had taught herself to ignore the stacks of washing up she would have loved to do it but there was always so much. What she did do was ensure the cereal bowls abandoned in the sink were soaking in some water so that the leftovers couldn’t dry hard to the sides making them easier to clean. She also dried any glasses that were sat on the draining board to stop the water leaving marks. She had perfected her presence in the house over the years. She considered herself to have been especially helpful during the time the twins were babies, acting quickly on the occasions that Rachel took them out. Marian didn’t know that Rachel had felt sure someone was moving things around she had seen doctors but was ultimately convinced that in sleep deprivation her brain was forgetting the small tasks.
***
Marian’s slippers made a soft shushing noise across the laminate floor as she moved deeper into the house. This laminate had not changed, the walls were a fresh blue, the new paint smell lingering like gauze over the room. It was too cold now. Her pace was much slower in this last year, more time to consider her surroundings. Driven to patience and keen observation by her vengeful knees. She hadn’t liked the buttery paint choice of the Buckles either, they both should have done a nice peach like hers. Maybe she should have offered them a sample she was sure Alex had left some paint in the shed when he had decorated, he was taking more care of them these days.
In the first few months after the move, number 30 had trembled with changes. No wall left the same colour, blinds removed, most of the plants ripped from the soil. It was settling now the new couple had lost momentum. They weren’t married, she had noticed two different names on the post. But they were nice enough, Ali, as she called herself, was very cheerful and asked after Alex’s children whenever they met on the driveway. Marian approved of her, that’s why she still took it upon herself to keep helping.
The kitchen rug had gone revealing a spatter of cracks and breaks in the tiles. The tiles were an antique paper white but the cracks marred them as though flies had been swatted to earth and left these ugly black marks.
Her face grew hot with the warmth of the sun still glowing through the patio doors. Oh, it’s a nice room when it’s like this, she thought. Such a nice kitchen. Marian liked the new couple’s leather chair very much. They had placed it by the patio doors so when seated you could survey the garden and still talk to whoever was cooking in the kitchen, Marian approved of this too. Easing her weight down into it, she felt the leather catch on her clothes where it was worn and no longer smooth, the sides of the arms strained against her hips as she sank lower onto the seat. It was like sinking into batter. She wondered if they sat here with tea every morning. Maybe they sat on it together, her in his lap so they could look out the doors and into their garden.
That sun. It was as though someone was holding a warm dry towel against her cheeks. Marian didn’t think about the cat, it would come out if it wanted to. She didn’t think about Neil’s new letter from the doctor, Alex would take charge of that. She didn’t think about being unable to prune the roses anymore her hands too weak now for the branches.
Closing her eyes was only really a response to the sun. It was shining directly onto her face. Her mind drifted only because her eyes were closed; but it was so nice to let her mind drift in the sunshine, and this house was so quiet. They had never had a quiet house, neither had Rachel and Dave, maybe it was because there was so little furniture here still. Her mind thickened as an overworked dough and thoughts ebbed into dreams.
It was quiet because she hadn’t worn her hearing aids, so she didn’t hear a car in the road.
Or the keys in the door
***
Have I told you this story yet? About this whole business with our neighbour?
So I get home early the other day, and as usual I’m carrying too much to the door. Something about living in a flat for so many years, I guess, I hate, really hate, making two trips to the car don’t like leaving the front door wide open. I mean it’s silly now since there’s what, five steps from the car to the hallway?
Right, so I was carrying this bag of shopping as well as my laptop bag, and holding my coffee cup which I always forget and leave in the car and then the coffee never tastes right the next day, you know all plasticky.
I didn’t notice a single thing! But there was nothing to notice you see, that’s the whole point, I think. The door unlocked easy maybe? I always shout for the cat when I come home. Unless she’s by the door, she wasn’t by the door, she’s quite hard to predict actually, she’s a cat so there’s no routine. But then I have no routine either really, that’s flexible working for you. Sorry, off topic…
Right, so I dump my laptop in the hallway and went straight to the kitchen with the shopping and there’s still no cat.
Well there she was.
Trying to get herself out of my leather chair, she’s really old and big-bottomed, can’t seem to walk right.
I was just so shocked to see her. I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I was so scared, I still am. Nobody wants to find a stranger in the house. I’ve told you before about all those times I was on my own and you get that weird feeling someone else is there with you and it gives you the real creeps and you have to put the radio on or make noise and have all the lights on, well this is like that fear realised in OAP form. For christ’s sake.
I jumped of course. You know what it’s like when something surprises you, your whole body feels it. How can I describe it? It’s like you’re a drum right, and someone has smacked you really hard and the sound makes the skin ripple, well my whole body…jolted.
I don’t know if I said anything actually, I might have shrieked? I must have shrieked. But can you believe it? I’ve been saying to him for weeks it felt like someone had been in the house when we were gone. Just little things like some papers looking different to how I left them or the satsumas rearranged in the bowl. Thought I was going mad.
I haven’t reported it. I mean really, she just came and sat in the chair. I don’t think she’s even been feeding the cat, and it was my idea that we gave her a key. But he claims he didn’t actually ever get round to it. But that would mean that she…
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