Читать книгу Heading Over the Hill - Judy Leigh - Страница 6

Billy opened the door to see two women, huddled closely together, smiling. One was tall and blonde, the other short and dark, probably in their fifties. They both wore jeans and identical pale blue sweatshirts. The shorter one with curly dark hair to her shoulders wore gold-framed glasses. The taller one had smooth hair, a blonde bob, and colourful earrings made of red and blue beads. They opened their eyes wide as soon as Billy filled the door frame.

‘I’m Audrey from next door, number fifteen. But please call me Aude,’ the blonde one explained. ‘And this is Sylv.’

Sylv grinned as the wind lifted her dark curls over her face. She leaned forward, holding out a Pyrex cooking dish with a tea towel over it. ‘You’re new here, just moved in, aren’t you? I thought you probably wouldn’t have had time to make anything to eat or do some shopping, so we brought you this.’ She thrust the dish into Billy’s hands. ‘It’s vegetable lasagne with lentils.’

‘It’s lovely. Sylv’s special recipe,’ Aude insisted, thrusting her hand out and offering a bottle of wine. ‘And I brought this. It’s red. Italian.’

Dawnie had joined Billy at the door, and she clutched at the wine eagerly. ‘That’s proper nice of you. Do you want to come in and have a glass with us?’

‘Oh, we won’t, not today.’ Sylv’s gold-rimmed spectacles had slipped forward and she pushed them back on her nose. ‘You must be so busy, right in the middle of moving in.’

Aude held out a hand. ‘But it’s great to meet you, er…’

Billy grasped her fingers in his huge paw, then turned to Sylv and shook her hand. ‘Billy. Billy Murphy. And this is my wife, Dawnie Smith.’

‘Oh, you’re Irish, Billy,’ Sylv beamed. ‘How lovely.’

‘From County Mayo, originally. My dad and my brother lived there all their lives.’ Billy shrugged huge shoulders. ‘But I moved away years ago. I came to Manchester when I was a young man, and I’ve moved around a lot. Ah, but the accent’s not so strong now.’

‘Oh, it’s a lovely lilt,’ Aude insisted, turning to Dawnie. ‘You’re not Irish, are you, though?’

‘Bolton born and bred, love.’ Dawnie held up the wine. ‘We have a house up there. My daughter and her husband are living in it at the moment, their daughter and my great-grandchildren too. We’re looking to buy ourselves a home somewhere here, on the coast.’

‘Oh, the coastline is superb,’ Sylv nodded. ‘There are some beautiful properties in this area. Or you could buy this house. Tell the landlord you like it and stop here and live next door to us. It’d be great to have some permanent neighbours. People don’t normally stop here for very long.’

Billy frowned. ‘And why would that be?’

Aude rolled her eyes, her gaze encompassing the direction of the house next door, number eleven. She lowered her voice, as if afraid to be heard. ‘Ah, not everyone gets on with the neighbours next door to you.’

Sylv shrugged. ‘Oh, they’re all right. Don’t pay any attention to him next door to you. He likes a little grumble, that’s all. We tend to ignore him.’

Aude poked Sylv gently with her elbow. ‘Moaning Malcolm won’t bother Billy here – Billy’s twice as big as he is.’

Sylv nodded. ‘And you look like you can stand up for yourself, Dawnie. Don’t take any grief from her.’

Dawnie folded her arms. ‘I’m not likely to.’

Billy lifted the lasagne in the dish. ‘Ah well, thanks for the pot of food.’

‘My pleasure,’ Sylv cooed.

‘And the wine: that’s very decent of you,’ Dawnie enthused.

‘Well, it’s good to meet you both. We’ll pop by again, when you’re moved in and settled.’ Aude gave Sylv a little push. ‘Come on, Sylv, there’s another lasagne waiting in the oven for us.’

‘Nice to meet you, Dawnie, Billy.’ Sylv gave them a little wave as the women walked away.

‘What lovely people.’ Billy closed the front door behind him. ‘Well, that’s our dinner sorted now.’

Dawnie nodded. ‘Good to have such nice neighbours. Shall we have a look at that old oven in the kitchen and see if we can get the gas lit?’

Billy hugged the Pyrex dish to his chest. ‘I’ll do that, Dawnie, love. You see if you can find a bottle opener and some glasses. I have a big thirst on me all of a sudden.’

The bottle was half empty by the time Dawnie and Billy had managed to make the ancient oven work. Another bottle from their own supplies had been opened when Dawnie dipped a large serving spoon in the lentil lasagne, ladling the thick mixture on two plates. By the time Billy spooned the last scrapings from the Pyrex dish onto his plate, the second bottle was empty too. Dawnie leaned back in her seat and rubbed her tummy. ‘I think we will like it here, Billy.’

Billy ran a thick finger around the Pyrex dish, licking rich tomato sauce. ‘Wherever you are, darlin’, then I’m happy. But yes, I think it’s a good place.’

‘I wasn’t so sure when you suggested it, by the sea, miles away from Lindy and Fallon and her little ones. But I think it’s the right thing to do now we’re older, to live somewhere beautiful, by the coast.’

‘It’s our time now, darlin’, to be sure. The kids should have their own lives. They can have our house and we’ll buy one here from Da’s money. It makes sense. Let the young ones have their independence.’

Dawnie nodded. ‘I mother them too much. Smother them.’

Billy licked the last smear of tomato sauce and lentils from his fingers. ‘You’ve been a good mammy to our two, for sure.’

‘We don’t hear much from Buddy, especially since he split up with that Mandy. I wasn’t so keen on her.’

‘He has the travelling bug. He’s forty-four, darlin’. He’s his own man now.’

Dawnie pulled a sad face. ‘Where is he now? Kansas City?’

Billy’s chuckle rumbled. ‘Following the yellow brick road, making a living wherever he lands, meeting up with other musicians, playing his guitar and singing, I guess. But he’s doing his own thing, making his own way. And he texts us sometimes, once in a while.’

‘Not often enough,’ Dawnie frowned. ‘But he could come back to live in the basement in the Little Lever house if he was tired of travelling. Buddy’s a single man with no responsibilities.’ She sighed, a shuddering ache from the bottom of her lungs. ‘Lindy Lou’s brood will be all right living in the house, and she’ll take over the organisation. She’s like me, good in a crisis, and her Stewie’s not the best provider. He has to look after Fallon and her three kids now, too. He and Lindy are in their forties but he still can’t hold down a job for more than six months.’

‘Ah, but Stewie’s a good man, really. I’ve always liked him. He’s an eco-warrior, a man of principle. Besides, he has a savage collection of guitars and he’s a good fella for a jam session.’

‘But why couldn’t she hook up with an accountant or a doctor: someone with a bit of money? She’s taken so much on, looking after Fallon and her little ones.’

Billy breathed out. ‘Fallon’s always been a handful, hasn’t she, ever since she was born. She’s unpredictable; they’ve always had a time of it with that one.’

‘It was because she was their only child, Billy. The sweetest baby – she was so cute. They spoiled her rotten. I did, too.’

He pulled his steel grey curls free from the long ponytail and shook his head. ‘She reminds me of myself at a young age, Fallon. She’s a wild one. But she has those babies already and there’s only her to look after them.’

‘And Lindy Lou’s a grandma at forty-six. It’s ridiculous. I’m sure she’ll miss my support.’

‘We keep talking about this, darlin’, but nothing will change. Fallon has the three kiddies and, thanks to us, they all have a roof over their heads now. Lindy and Stewie will be just dandy by themselves. Let’s leave them to it, will we?’

‘But it’s my fault, Billy.’ Her eyes filled. ‘I brought Lindy Lou and Buddy up to be independent. I was too much of a hippy, letting the kids paint their walls any way they wanted, growing their hair and dressing them up and then they were dragged from school to school. And you were never there with us, Billy; you were always away.’

‘I know that, darlin’. It couldn’t be helped. But you did a grand job with them both, you know that. Ah, don’t fret yourself.’ He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against his chest. ‘You’ve just had a few glasses of wine tonight and you feel a bit tearful. You know how it is sometimes after a jar or two.’

Tears were trickling down Dawnie’s face. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. ‘Fallon’s twenty-three. That’s no age to have one kiddie, let alone three. And all of them have different dads.’

Billy sniffed and offered a mischievous grin. ‘Maybe she just likes the variety?’

‘She was still at school when she fell pregnant with Willow. Caleb was the result of her holiday trek to Thailand, and who knows what bush little Milo crept out from under?’

Billy stood up, sliding back his chair and picking up the lasagne dish. ‘I’ll give this a wash and we can return it to the women next door tomorrow. They were grand, the neighbours at number fifteen. Will I dig out some of the home brew and let them have a few bottles?’

‘That’d be a nice gesture: and maybe a couple of bottles for the people on the other side next door. What did Aude and Sylv say they were called?’

‘I can’t remember.’ Billy watched the cold tap water splash into the Pyrex dish. ‘We’ll call on them in the morning and introduce ourselves.’ He began to scrub the dish clean with thick fingers. Dawnie put her head in her hands.

‘This house needs a makeover. I think I’ll ask the landlord if I can spruce it up a bit, paint the walls. What about a mural in that little living room? Something swirly and psychedelic?’

‘Let’s not do too much to it, just a coat of paint and put one of my photos up. It’s best not to change it much if we’re only here for six months. The landlord doesn’t know I’ve the Harley stowed in the hallway. Perhaps it’s a good idea to keep a low profile.’

‘I’ll just paint the bedroom, then, and maybe the lounge.’ Dawnie brought her hands together, as if praying. ‘A nice calm blue colour, like cornflowers, perhaps a feature wall in deep blood red, vermillion, the colour of passion?’ She grinned at Billy. ‘Six months is a long time to be staring at magnolia.’

He made a low noise, a sound between a groan and a yawn. ‘It’s gone ten o’clock, darlin’. I’m bushed. We’ll turn in – it’s been a hard day and the driving was tough – all motorways and then the long road with the twists and turns.’ He began to dry the Pyrex dish. ‘I’d rather be on the bike than in the Transit any day.’

‘Yes, it’s bedtime for us, Billy. Tomorrow is our first day in north Devon.’ Dawnie stretched her arms above her head. ‘It’s exciting. When will we start looking at houses? Soon, I hope.’

‘I thought we might get up with the lark tomorrow. I’ve a spot of cleaning and tinkering to do on the bike. I just need to adjust the carburettor. In the afternoon, we could take it out for a spin and drive round the coastline. Maybe we can see what little villages we like the look of and then next week we’ll start our house search properly. What do you think, darlin’?’

‘Perfect.’ Dawnie’s eyes fell on a red suitcase. ‘I’ll go up, shall I, Billy?’

He nodded. ‘I’ll be up after you in five minutes.’

Dawnie dragged the suitcase into the hallway and bumped it up the narrow staircase with the floral green carpet into the main bedroom. The walls were grubby magnolia; the double bed was just a divan and a mattress beneath a window with thin red curtains. Dawnie gazed around her, talking softly to herself.

‘I hope we’re not paying much for this. I should’ve discussed it all properly before we moved.’ She sighed. ‘In fact, I should’ve got more involved in the whole thing really, looked at the website, made decisions like a proper wife. But oh no, I just concentrated on Lindy Lou and Fallon and the kiddies and said, “You sort it out, Billy, love, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” This house is a right dive. I should have organised somewhere for us instead of leaving it to Billy, bless him.’

Hands on hips, she stared at the wardrobe, the dressing table, heavy square-shaped wooden furniture from the early twentieth century. Both had seen better days. There were ring marks on the dressing table, the size of beer glasses. A handle on one of the drawers was broken. Above her head, a thin cord held a bare light bulb. Dawnie grinned as she gazed around: she’d have the place looking like home in no time. She’d already decided to give the bedroom furniture a rub-down with sandpaper and paint it a smart cream and powder blue.

She glanced at the bed and called out to Billy. ‘The bedding’s still in the van. Or it might be in that little living room with the rest of our boxes. I’ll go and get it in a minute. I’ll do myself first.’

Dawnie wasn’t sure if Billy had heard her or not: it was likely that he was absorbed in something else. She smiled: Billy could only ever do one thing at a time. She opened the large red case and lifted out several items encased in tissue paper, placing them gently on top of the dressing table. Silky hair of various colours, black, brown, red, electric blue, stuck out from the wrapping. Dawnie pulled off her long blond wig and placed it carefully on top of the other wigs. She ran her fingers through her thick hair, a platinum pixie cut, making it spike attractively round her small face. Without the wig, she seemed even tinier, sparrow-like. She tugged a round box from inside the case, placing it at her feet and searching inside. ‘Ah, here we are. I can’t live without my products.’

She held up a bottle of liquid and a huge wad of cotton wool and proceeded to cleanse her face, placing the items back in the box. She delved back into the case and lifted out a pair of tiny pink pyjamas, shorts and a vest top decorated with lace.

‘Oh, and we’ll need toothbrushes. They are in here somewhere.’ Dawnie stuck her head under the lid of the red case and rummaged in its depths before bringing out two electric toothbrushes and some toothpaste.

Heavy footfall on the landing announced Billy’s arrival. He stood in the room, his arms full of bedding. ‘I thought we’d be needing these, darlin’. I’ll just make the bed up, will I? Have you seen the bathroom yet?’

‘No, is it all right?’

‘Bath with a shower over it, basin, toilet. It’s just dandy.’

‘Is there enough space for my products?’

Billy shrugged his big shoulders and dumped the bedding onto the mattress, proceeding to stuff pillows into cases, shaking out a sheet and finally flapping a huge duvet with a guitar print in black and white onto the bed. He turned to Dawnie, who was in the short pink pyjamas.

‘Should I get the drums in now, do you think?’

‘They’ll be safe in the Transit until tomorrow.’

‘What if someone steals them? My kit’s worth a bit. There’s the cymbal John Coghlan used to play in the seventies.’

Dawnie grinned. ‘We’ll get them in tomorrow, first thing. Don’t worry, love, there’s a big lock on that Transit. There’s no need to lose sleep…’

Billy’s face was anxious. ‘I should’ve brought them in once the Harley was indoors. If the neighbours hadn’t called round with the food, I’d have brought them in then.’

Dawnie went over to Billy, reaching up and kissing his lips. ‘They’ll be fine. The beard needs a trim, Billy.’

‘Okay. I’ll set up the drums tomorrow in the spare bedroom.’ He was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Have you got the toothbrushes?’

Dawnie handed him a brush and the toothpaste. Suddenly, they both froze, listening. There was a noise, a sharp clicking sound downstairs. Billy frowned. ‘Was that someone at the front door?’

‘Did you lock it?

‘I was sure I did.’ He turned to go.

‘I’ll go, love. I’ll get us a glass of water each, shall I? I’m thirsty after the wine.’

‘Will I come down with you, darlin’?’

‘Don’t be soft. You clean your teeth. I’ll check the door and bring us a nice glass of cool water.’

Dawnie padded down the stairs in bare feet, glad of the carpet’s shabby softness. She stood at the bottom of the stairs and flicked on the light. Billy had locked the front door; a big bolt was securely fastened across the top. Dawnie turned to go, then she noticed a slip of paper on the floor. She squeezed past the Harley with an easy twist of her hips, bent down and picked up a folded note. She called up the stairs. ‘It was the letter box, Billy. It’s probably just a welcome note from one of the neighbours – maybe they wanted to tell us what day to put the bins out.’

Dawnie unfolded the paper and stared at the writing. It was in an old-fashioned style, a cursive hand, in navy fountain pen ink. She frowned and read the note again.

To whom it may concern. Please move your van. It is parked too close to my property and it leaves me insufficient space to move my own vehicle. If you do not comply herewith, it may be necessary for me to telephone your landlord.

Regards,

M. H. Frost (Number 11, Margot Street)

Dawnie studied the note for a second, then squashed it into her fist, squeezing it until it was a small ball. She clenched her teeth. ‘M. H. Frost of Maggot Street, eh? I’ll give you insufficient space all right.’ She threw the litter on the floor, the glasses of water forgotten now. She turned on her heel, snapping the light switch as her feet stomped up the stairs.