The next morning, the neighbour was already dangling herself over our fence again. My wife strolled over and kindly let her know we had far too much to do today, so we wouldnt be able to sit about as we had yesterday. What about tomorrow, then? Barbara asked, her curiosity shining through. Tomorrow will be the same, my wife replied quietly. You needn’t come round again, really.
My desire to live in the city brought us nothing good.
My wife owns a cottage in the country. Back when my mother-in-law and father-in-law were still alive, we visited often. I enjoyed it most in the evenings, when they would lay the table beneath an enormous old pear tree. There we could sit for hours, talking away as dusk crept in. This was always the way of things on our visits. In winter, my mother-in-law would light the oven, filling the cottage with the scent of freshly baked scones. The air would be thick with the warm, sweet aroma, and I recall thinking it was the cosiest place in England.
We both loved skiing and going out with the sled when winter snow fell thick and fast. And then, one year, her parents simply werent there anymore. We kept the cottage, intending to visit just as we always had. But somehow, we never quite managed.
There was always something that needed doing. Eventually, we stopped even thinking of going. The years slipped past almost unnoticed. Our son met a girl and married her. My daughter-in-law, Alice, would often sigh that it would be lovely to live in the countryside, at least for the summer.
It was then we remembered the cottage. My wife and I were the first to go back, conscious it had been an age since wed last visited. The place was untouched, but neglect had crept quietly over everything.
We decided to roll up our sleeves and start cleaning. Anne set to work inside, while I cleared the garden. I half expected to discover the cottage had collapsed entirely after all those years without care, but noafter a bit of work, it started to look entirely transformed. The next day, the children arrived and joined our efforts. By evening, the house was inviting and comfortable once more. The women set about preparing supper, while my son and I tried to mend the rickety old table and benches beneath the pear tree.
Thats when I noticed a woman watching us from behind next doors fence. She told us shed recently bought the house next door and fancied a proper introduction. Being English and well-mannered, we invited her to join us for supper. Her name was Barbara. She explained that she lived there alone, her only daughter settled elsewhere with three children of her own. Barbara was alone, her marriage behind her now, and she rambled on and on, her words tumbling in strange circles. I found myself drifting off, distracted by a peculiar sensation along my ankle.
Looking under the table, I glimpsed my neighbours shoe nudging against my leg. I quickly moved away, but she persisted, her foot slyly stroking at mine. This was an odd new world to me. I fidgeted on the bench, trying not to raise a fuss and hoping my wife would notice nothing. All the while, Barbara kept nattering away, her words thick as treacle. The children were starting to whinge, and I just wished she would leave. As we were clearing up, Anne said quietly that Barbara seemed flightyNot quite right, that one. I nodded. There was no arguing. But I never confessed what had happened beneath the table. I felt far too embarrassed. I suspected this was hardly Barbaras first such attempt with a neighbour. The next morning, there she was, draped over the garden fence once more. My wife gently told her, Weve quite the list of chores today, so well not be able to sit and chat like before.
But, what about tomorrow? Barbara piped up, undeterred.
Tomorrow will be just the same. Honestly, its best if you dont pop by again, came the reply.
Bold move, that. Our neighbour muttered darkly to herself for a while, but I wasnt interested. I believe Anne did exactly what was needed. We English are open and honest types, and we can spot trouble a mile off. When we know we dont like someone, we dont waste time pretending otherwise.
