CHAPTER ONE
It’s the day Marion has been dreading. Her friend, Pat, from next door, is moving out. The removal van is there all day on Saturday and Marion helps Pat clean up after the men. She invites Pat round for tea before she leaves and gives her a tin of home-made biscuits to take with her.
After tea, David loads Pat’s last few things into her car.
‘I’ll miss you like mad,’ Marion says, giving Pat a hug.
‘We’ll keep in touch,’ Pat says. ‘And the lass who’s moving in seems very nice.’
‘Safe journey,’ David says, holding the driver’s door open for her.
Marion and David stand by the kerb and wave as Pat drives away. As the car disappears round the corner, tears come into Marion’s eyes.
‘Cheer up,’ David says, but Marion can’t help feeling sad. Pat was a good friend and a perfect next-door neighbour. She took in parcels and fed the cat when they went away. She was quiet and friendly and never complained or interfered. On Saturday mornings Marion and Pat always had coffee together. She was a good person to talk to.
A few days later, while Marion and David are eating breakfast, they hear another van arrive. David gets up and looks out of the window.
‘The new next-door neighbour,’ he says.
Marion gets up to look. She can only see the men carrying furniture. One of them carries a box of bright plastic toys.
‘She must have a child,’ Marion says.
David turns away. ‘More toast?’ he asks.
‘Do you think I should bake her a cake or something?’ Marion says. ‘Or no, I won’t have time. I’ll get a bottle of wine.’
By the time they get home from work, the van has gone. David begins to cook his special pasta with pepperoni and chilli while Marion goes round to say hello to their new neighbour.
A little dark-haired boy opens the door.
‘Is your mummy in?’ Marion asks.
‘Mum,’ he yells, ‘it’s a lady.’
A tall young woman comes to the door. ‘Hi,’ she says, eyeing the wine bottle.
‘Hi,’ Marion says. ‘I’m Marion from next door. Welcome to the street. David and I live there.’ She points.
‘I’m Jo,’ the woman says. She’s skinny with bright brown eyes and short red hair. ‘And this is Luke.’
‘I’m eight,’ he says proudly. ‘Do you have any kids?’
‘No,’ Marion says, ‘but we do have a lovely cat. He’s called Tigger. Do you like cats?’
‘I like all animals,’ he says.
‘Well you must come round and meet him.’
‘Now?’
‘Well …’ Marion hesitates.
‘Shut up Luke,’ Jo says. ‘I’m sure Marion has better things to do.’
‘No, it’s OK,’ Marion says. ‘Why not come round? In fact, why not come and eat with us?’
‘Are you sure?’ Jo says. ‘I was about to phone for pizza.’
‘We can do an extra bit of pasta. Do you like pasta?’ Marion asks Luke.
‘It’s my second favourite food,’ he says.
‘What’s your first favourite?’
‘Pizza,’ he says.
Marion laughs.
‘Well, at least I’ve got a bottle of wine to bring!’ Jo grins and holds up the bottle.
‘Look who’s here!’ Marion says, as they go through the back door into the kitchen. David is slicing sausage while the pasta bubbles on the stove.
‘This is Jo and this is Luke,’ she says, ‘and this is my husband, David. I thought they could eat with us, David. Can you stretch it?’
‘Hi there,’ says Jo. ‘Hope you don’t mind?’
‘No, that’s fine.’ David stares at her for a minute. ‘Good to meet you.’
He wipes his hands on a tea-towel before shaking hands, first with Jo and then with Luke.
‘Where’s the cat?’ Luke says.
‘See if you can find him,’ Marion says and Luke runs off to look.
‘Sorry I’m such a mess!’ Jo says. She’s wearing dirty jeans and a T-shirt with a rip under one arm.
‘Don’t be silly,’ Marion says, ‘it would be a strange person who moved house in their best clothes.’
‘How’s it going?’ David asks. He tips more pasta in a pan.
‘OK,’ Jo
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