Читать книгу Not My Idea of Heaven - Lindsey Rosa - Страница 13

Chapter Eight

Trouble with the Neighbours

I suppose my street was typical of many of the calm suburban roads beyond the chaos of the town centre. The trees that lined the pavements were useful to us children for hiding behind when tracking intruders on our territory, and provided an invaluable supply of sticks we used for whacking each other.

I knew most of the neighbours, but of particular interest to me was Jim, who lived in the house opposite ours and had the largest front garden in the street. Jim was a war veteran and it was widely known that he had spent time in Japanese prisoner-of-war camps. This piece of information was passed between the neighbours, with knowing looks from the adults and unsympathetic sniggers from the kids. He was an easy target for us merciless children. With shouts of rage he defended his land and primly painted bungalow against any child or adult who so much as dared to stroll past the white picket fence that controlled the border between friend and foe.

He had almost met his match in me, though. I could also be fiercely defensive. I had good reason to defend my family, I thought. They would not defend themselves as they staunchly avoided confrontation. Having watched Jim reverse his car into Mum’s one day, without so much as a look at the damage, and witnessed him pouring bricks from a wheelbarrow over Mum’s feet, I decided it was time for revenge.

Gathering up as many of my friends as I could find playing out that evening, I laid the plans for the battle. Carefully splitting off the sturdy stems of Jim’s roses, we armed ourselves with rosehips and scuttled back to the protection of the cars parked opposite his house. One by one we ran across the road and flung those hard missiles at his windows. Time and again we watched the lights in his house go on and the curtains pull back. The thrill was superb. And then it was halted abruptly. We had been seen.

‘Lindsey! Come in, now!’ Mum bellowed.

One of the neighbours, Kathy, had rung my mum to say that her daughter was causing trouble.

Game over.

Legitimate revenge was never far away, though. For most people Sunday is a day of rest. But for Jim. Poor old Jim! That was the day that the Fellowship descended on Albion Avenue. Cars casually pulled up onto the kerb outside his bungalow and helplessly he looked on while a procession of men, accompanied by their long-skirted wives, ambled across the road and into our house, from where I watched Jim with a warm glow of satisfaction. Even he could not defend himself against us.

A new rule had come in that said all Fellowship families should, if possible, move to a house that was not joined to any other. But Mum and Dad could not afford to move, so we stayed where we were. Sometimes I thanked my lucky stars that I lived in a semi-detached house.

One evening a sound snaked its way through the walls of our neighbour Kathy’s house and into our front room, where I was sitting with Mum and Dad.

Thump-thump-thump-chukka-chukka.

My ears pricked up, excitedly. Mum carried on with her knitting, but Dad looked up from his paper towards the wall and tutted.

Thump-thump-thump-chukka-chukka.

I quickly got up and went into the kitchen. I knew what to do. I took a glass from the cupboard and crept into the dining room, where no one could see what I was doing, then pressed the container up against the wall. There it was again, but clearer now.

Thump-thump-thump-chukka-chukka.

For a brief moment I let the forbidden music pass through the crude amplifier into my ear and felt good. Then I pulled away.

Returning to the front room to do what I thought was right. I took down the horn that hung from a corner of a shelf.

Thooooooot! Thooooooot!

I blew as hard as I could.

Thooooooot! Thooooooot!

I had let the Devil into my soul and now I had to drown him out. After a minute or two, Mum and Dad expressed their objection to my awful racket.

But I had done it. I had resisted the temptation of evil and felt proud.

Satan was not coming into our house.

Perhaps the Fellowship was right to be cautious about living at such close proximity to the Devil.