My neighbour set up a smoking corner right outside my door. I took a firm approachshe never expected what happened next.
Where does it say this is your air? scoffed Victoria, my neighbours twenty-year-old daughter, blowing a thick, sickly-sweet puff of vapour straight at me. The landings communal. Ill smoke if I want, spit if I want. Learn the rules, love!
Two lads lounged beside her, snickering away on the window ledge between floors. The concrete floor was strewn with cigarette butts, empty Red Bull cans, and crisp packets.
Im Helen, the chief accountant at a large manufacturer, and I didnt cough or flap my hands as those kids expected. I just pushed my glasses up and gave Victoria that hard starethe sort that makes line managers sweat buckets during audits.
This is a shared space, Victoria, I said coolly. That means no smoking, no spitting, and no turning it into a dumping ground. Youve got five minutes to clean up this mess. Or Ill take it further.
Oooh, Im shaking! Victoria sneered, flicking ash deliberately onto the freshly mopped floor. Go take a pill for your blood pressure or something. Going to tattle to my mum? She told me to sit here so I dont smoke in the flat.
The boys cracked up. I shut my door, cutting off the racket from the landing.
Inside, the air smelled of fried potatoes and old wooda lovely, homely aroma now ruined by the stench of cheap cigarettes, drifting through my keyhole. At the table, hunched over his dinner, sat Paul.
Paul is thirty-two, but looks at least forty thanks to an early receding hairline and a slight hunch. Hes my late husbands nephew and has lived with me for a decade now. Quiet, timid, and with a slight stammer, he repairs watches for a living and seems afraid of his own shadow. The neighbours think hes odd, an easy target for mockery.
H-Helen, are they out there again? Paul mumbled, shrinking at the thump outside.
Eat, Paul. Its not your worry, I replied crisply, serving him more potatoes. Inside, though, I was boiling.
That evening, I went to see Gail, Victorias mum. Gail opened the door in a robe, phone pressed to her ear, clay mask on her face.
Gail, your daughters turned the landing into a den. The smoke drifts into my flat, and the noise lasts half the night. Im asking you to sort it out.
Gail rolled her eyes, not once lowering her phone. Oh, Helen, dont start. Theyre kids, where else will they go? Its chilly out. Theyre not druggies, just hanging out. Cut them some slackyou havent any children, so maybe you just dont get it. And your Pauls not right in the head anyway, why does it even bother him?
It was a nasty, well-aimed barb. I exhaled sharply.
You say its just kids hanging out? And my Paul bothers you? Fine, Gail. Ive heard enough.
I went home, sat at my desk, and pulled out my paperwork. Emotions are for the weak. The strong have the lawthe Police Act and Civil Code.
For the next week, I kept out of sight, barely a sound. Victoria assumed the old witch had given up, and took over the landing completely. She even dragged up an old armchair from the skip, and their music pounded on until one in the morning.
The showdown came that Friday.
Paul came home from the workshop with a grocery bag and a small boxa clients order. As he reached their group on the landing, one ladVictorias boyfriend, known as Sourstuck his foot out.
Paul stumbled. The bag split, apples scattering across the filthy floor among the butts. The watch part flew into the wall.
Oi, look, the ostrichs done a runner! Sour jeered.
Victoria lazily exhaled vapour. Watch where youre walking, loser. Youre making the air worse. Go on, pick em up while Im still in a good mood.
Paul flushed scarlet, hands shaking, gathering the apples. Tears of frustration filled his eyes. He was used to it. Used to being a nobody, used to no one standing up for him.
At that moment, I flung open my door. I wasnt holding a broom or rolling pinjust my mobile, recording and aimed straight at Sour.
Public nuisance, harassment, and property damage, I said clearly. Ive got it all on camera. Ill call the police right now and take this evidence to the council tomorrow.
Put the phone away, you mad woman! yelled the boy, but he didnt dare come closermy look made even grown men tremble.
Paul, get up, I commanded, without looking at him. Go inside.
But the apples he murmured.
Leave them. Just rubbish, like everything else on this landing.
As the door closed behind Paul, I turned to Victoria.
Now listen carefully, love. You think Ive just been tolerating you? No, Ive been collecting a dossier.
What dossier? Victoria scoffed, but her voice trembled.
I contacted the flat owner. Your mum doesnt own it, does she? No, your dad doeslives in London, thinks youre a diligent medical student, not this.
Victoria turned white. Her father wasnt just strict, he was a tyrant who supported them only on condition of his daughters perfect behaviour.
You wouldnt dare she whispered.
I already have. He received photos and videos of your gatherings ten minutes ago, together with police reports, evidence of litter, anti-social behaviour, smoking. Let the right people handle it now. The police will be round within the hour. Your dad said hell be here in the morning.
Next day, a deep voice boomed through the block.
I was having tea when the bell rang. At my door stood a tall, broad man in an expensive coatVictorias father, Anthony. Next to him was Gail, head bowed, red-eyed. Victoria was nowhere to be seen.
Are you Mrs. Helen? Anthonys voice was polite but commanding. Im here to apologise for both my daughters and my ex-wifes actions. The landings being cleaned now, Ill pay for repainting the walls. Victoria is moving into halls. Ive cut off their allowance.
I nodded, accepting the apology as my due.
Fair enough. But theres one more thing.
I called Paul in. He crept in, bracing for trouble.
Your friend insulted my nephew yesterday, I told Anthony calmly. He also damaged his work. Paul is an exceptional watchmaker, repairs pieces that even the Swiss wont touch.
Anthony looked interested, turning to Paul.
A watchmaker?
R-restorer, Paul stammered quietly.
Is that so? Ive got a collection of antique pocket watchesones been out of order for a year, three shops refused to touch it. Would you take a look?
Paul glanced up. For once, someone saw him not as odd, but as a craftsman and equal.
I I could try. If the springs intact.
Done. Anthony gripped Pauls thin hand in a firm shake. Sorry about my daughter, mate. I clearly failed there. No hard feelings? Ill pay for the work, of course.
After they left, Paul looked at his palm for a long time. Then, for the first time in years, he straightened up.
Aunt Helen, he said firmly, barely stammering, Maybe Ill fetch those apples myself. Food shouldnt go to waste.
I turned to the window, so he wouldnt see my eyes fill with tears.
Good idea, Paul. And put the kettle on. Todays a celebration.
The landing was quiet and spotless. It smelled of disinfectant and fresh paint. From my flat came the aroma of pies and Pauls confident voice, explaining the workings of a tourbillon to me.
The smoking corner was gone. For good.
