– Hello, Sarah! Sorry to bother, Im your downstairs neighbour.
– Ill turn the music down in a sec, replied the young woman, wrapped in a light dressing gown, a glass of wine precariously balanced in her hand.
– Oh, no, thats not it, dont worry. My husbands work just rang, told him to come in urgently.
– Is it something health-related?
– They didnt say. Just said it was urgent. My mums too far away. Would you mind keeping an eye on my son? Hes seven and a half, technically fine to be alone, but Ill be worried sick. Nerves already fraying as it is
– Of course, let me just get dressed and pop down.
– Hes no trouble, either glued to his tablet or firing off questions.
***
The young woman, now in a white vest and jeans, sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea and chatting on the phone.
– That Rowena from accounts is such a daft cow. Honestly, you should see her fluttering her eyelashes at Peter.
Into the kitchen wandered the boy, tablet clasped tightly. Faintly, Jamie and Adam from MythBusters bickered somewhere in the background. His t-shirt read: The Future Is Robots!
– Sorry, Ive got to go, doing my good deed for the day, she finished, hanging up. Hi there, Im Auntie Sarah. Want some tea?
– No, thank you. Im Daniel. Mum told me. And you are pretty. Mum always says all pretty women are miserable. Dad tells her, by that logic, shes either ugly or the marriage is a disaster.
– Your parents sound like a right laugh. And thank youthe pretty bit, I mean. The miserable, well
– Wheres your husband?
– Oh, lets say he popped to Tesco. About three years ago.
– Ah, I get it! He dumped you!
– Say, do you have something stronger than tea here? Conversations like this call for reinforcements
– Theres wine in the fridge, I think.
– Cheers, but Ill stick with tea. I am a guest, after all.
– Auntie Sarah, you need a new husband.
– Daniel, Ill wait till youre grown up, then. Otherwise where on earth do you find them?
– Who are you looking for, exactly? I watched this show once you have to visualise your dream.
– Send me the link. So, someone rich, handsome, kind. Whod love me heaps, provides for me…
– And why would he need you?
– Excuse me?
– Why? I mean, whats in it for him? If hes clever, hell want a partner, not a cockroach in the flat.
– Where did you say the wine was? She yanked the fridge open, dumped her tea down the sink, and filled her mug with Merlot.
– I saw a show about millionaires wives, too. Theyre all lushes, apparently. Live in mansions, drinking themselves silly.
– That, dear Danny, is whats called loneliness. Will you drink with me? Only joking.
– Do you know who Ill marry?
– Didnt I say? Me!
– I mean, in real life.
– Who?
– Ellie. We go to Robotics Club together. Shes really clever. Smarter than me. Once, at a competition, our Bluetooth modules stopped speaking to each other. We were on the same team. I panickedrobot was kaput. She just calmed me down and started reconnecting everything. Ten devices showed upphones, laptops, but not ours. So she grabbed the modules, headed outside. I followed. In the park, no signals at allimmediately our modules reconnected. #genius Anyway, we came back and won. Shes my team! I trust her! Theres loads to love about her!
Sarah drained her mug. Poured more wine.
– So, Ellies nicked herself a cracking fiancé, I see. Are you saying I need to pull at work?
– The strongest find each other. You dont just go shopping for tomatoes, do you?
– Charming. I dont get you.
– Become rich, beautiful and kind yourself! Thats how!
– And then why would I need anyone? Id travel, learn Spanish, take up salsa, maybe do a MasterChef course. Make a killer taco!
– Whats stopping you now?
– No husband to foot the bill, of course.
– Then you really are a cockroach. A parasite.
– Steady on! I just want a bit of normal happiness, thanks.
– Stop watching all those films! Youll waste your life waiting for a nonexistent idiot instead of actually living!
– Shut it! What do you know anyway! To your room! Off you go, clever-clogs! Bedtime now!
The boy disappeared. Tears welled in Sarahs eyes as she drained her wine. Her phone rang. She ignored it. The front door clacked open. In waltzed the neighbours: both a touch merry, eyes twinkling with mischief.
– Sarah, darling, thank you so much for looking after him, sang the neighbour.
– No worries. Sorry, I drank your wine.
– Dont mention it.
– All good with your husband, I hope?
– Oh, he got his mates at work to prank me. Idiots. Its our first kiss anniversary. I turned up at his office and there he was, lying on the floor, note on his chest’Sleeping Beauty. Kiss me! Then we grabbed some wine and went to the cinema, just like we did at uni.
– I swear you lot are in on this. Anyway, Id best be off!
– How was Daniel? his mum called after her at the door.
– Oh, dreadful. Absolutely dreadful. Please, can I look after him more often? Bit of disciplinary action never hurtThe mother laughed, ushering Daniel to wave goodbye.
Sarah stepped into the corridor, closing the neighbours door behind her. A muffled giggle floated through: Daniel, recounting the cockroach incident with dramatic flair. She smiled despite herself.
Halfway down the hall, her phone vibrated again. She stared at the unknown caller IDthen picked up, voice steady.
– Hello?
The caller paused, the background bustling. A voice, nervous, apologetic: Hi, sorry, its Matt from 3B? I locked myself out, you dont happen to have the supers number, do you?
Sarah leaned against the cool plaster, the tang of cheap merlot still on her tongue. She took a slow breath.
– Yeah, I do, Matt. Hold on. Welcome to the club.
His laugh was sheepish, grateful.
As she texted the number, she caught her reflection in the darkened window. Her hair wild, face flushed, eyes shining. Maybe not a millionaires wife. Not Auntie either. Just herselfringing codes, holding space, riding out evenings with misfit wisdom from the flat below.
She straightened, squared her shoulders. The Future Is Robotsbut tonight, a clumsy kindness would do.
The corridor lights flickered and glowed, warm and ordinary. Sarah smiled, and for the first time in ages, it felt more than enough.
