worried when I saw all this . . .’ He gestures at the locksmith’s tools on my front steps. ‘It wasn’t Alden making a nuisance of himself
again?’
‘Oh no, just replacing an old lock that hasn’t been working for some time,’ I lie to him. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
‘Good.’ He flashes his gorgeous smile at me. ‘Oh, by the way, it’s my daughter’s birthday this weekend and we’re having a small party – actually two
parties, kids at eleven a.m. and grown-ups at seven p.m. on Saturday. It would be lovely to see you.’
‘Thank you, that’s sweet, I’d love to come, but I’m going away to visit friends in Norfolk this weekend,’ I lie to him again. I don’t think I’m up to
facing Samantha just yet.
‘No worries, next time. I’ve got to rush, I’m running late today.’ He waves goodbye and marches off down the street.
I don’t think I’m imagining it, but I’m sure he fancies me. Or am I just thinking that to make myself feel better? Anyway, I must say I’m slowly warming to the idea of
neighbourly friendships. They certainly make living in the urban jungle less lonely. But they do take away the anonymity of a big city, which is something I value a lot, having grown up in a small,
nosy town. You can’t have everything, I think, as the locksmith calls me to the door and hands me five brand-new keys.
‘Have you ever considered enhancing the security of your home?’ he asks me.
‘I have, but I’ve never got around to actually doing anything about it, to be honest.’
He launches into a lecture about the dangerous world we live in and how his firm offers free security surveys for homes.
‘It’s like looking at your home through the eyes of a burglar,’ he explains and goes on listing all kinds of extra protection they offer: window locks, patio-door locks, door
bolts, grilles and alarm systems.
‘It’s definitely something you should consider, being a woman alone in a big house like this,’ he concludes.
I’m annoyed by his ‘woman alone’ comment. I tell him I’ll consider my options, pay him for the new lock and close the door. I go to the study, log on through the remote
access to my work account and start the tedious process of sifting through my emails. If only people stopped hitting the ‘Reply All’ button so readily! I’m deleting millions of
emails that should’ve been addressed to one person only (not me) and another million that should not have been written at all. I read somewhere, probably in an email, that thirty per cent of
people’s time at work is spent reading and writing emails. Bring back pen and paper and pneumatic mail! I’m just about to go to the kitchen to make myself another coffee when I hear a
strange sound at the front door. Wispa rushes to the hallway, but doesn’t bark. The noise stops, then repeats itself. Someone is trying to get into the house. My heart is pounding as I grab
my phone. I select 999 and with my thumb on dial I peek out from the study down the hallway. Wispa is standing by the front door wagging her tail. Through the small stained-glass window in the door
I can see someone dressed in pink. Somehow this unlikely-for-a-burglar colour reassures me and I step into the hallway, shouting out a tentative ‘hello’.
‘Hello,’ answers a female voice.
Of course, it’s Nicole, my dog walker. I open the door for her, feeling like an idiot.
‘Nicole, I’d forgotten you were coming.’
‘Anna! Nice to see you. Sorry, I didn’t know you were home, I would’ve rung the bell. I couldn’t open the lock . . .’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ve just changed it, that’s why your key wouldn’t work. It actually wasn’t even locked.’ I laugh sheepishly. ‘Let me get you a
new key.’ I rummage on the hallway shelf for the set the locksmith has given me.
‘You all right?’ asks Nicole.
‘Yes, thanks, just have tons of emails to catch up on, so decided to work from home.’ I know she’s asking me
again?’
‘Oh no, just replacing an old lock that hasn’t been working for some time,’ I lie to him. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
‘Good.’ He flashes his gorgeous smile at me. ‘Oh, by the way, it’s my daughter’s birthday this weekend and we’re having a small party – actually two
parties, kids at eleven a.m. and grown-ups at seven p.m. on Saturday. It would be lovely to see you.’
‘Thank you, that’s sweet, I’d love to come, but I’m going away to visit friends in Norfolk this weekend,’ I lie to him again. I don’t think I’m up to
facing Samantha just yet.
‘No worries, next time. I’ve got to rush, I’m running late today.’ He waves goodbye and marches off down the street.
I don’t think I’m imagining it, but I’m sure he fancies me. Or am I just thinking that to make myself feel better? Anyway, I must say I’m slowly warming to the idea of
neighbourly friendships. They certainly make living in the urban jungle less lonely. But they do take away the anonymity of a big city, which is something I value a lot, having grown up in a small,
nosy town. You can’t have everything, I think, as the locksmith calls me to the door and hands me five brand-new keys.
‘Have you ever considered enhancing the security of your home?’ he asks me.
‘I have, but I’ve never got around to actually doing anything about it, to be honest.’
He launches into a lecture about the dangerous world we live in and how his firm offers free security surveys for homes.
‘It’s like looking at your home through the eyes of a burglar,’ he explains and goes on listing all kinds of extra protection they offer: window locks, patio-door locks, door
bolts, grilles and alarm systems.
‘It’s definitely something you should consider, being a woman alone in a big house like this,’ he concludes.
I’m annoyed by his ‘woman alone’ comment. I tell him I’ll consider my options, pay him for the new lock and close the door. I go to the study, log on through the remote
access to my work account and start the tedious process of sifting through my emails. If only people stopped hitting the ‘Reply All’ button so readily! I’m deleting millions of
emails that should’ve been addressed to one person only (not me) and another million that should not have been written at all. I read somewhere, probably in an email, that thirty per cent of
people’s time at work is spent reading and writing emails. Bring back pen and paper and pneumatic mail! I’m just about to go to the kitchen to make myself another coffee when I hear a
strange sound at the front door. Wispa rushes to the hallway, but doesn’t bark. The noise stops, then repeats itself. Someone is trying to get into the house. My heart is pounding as I grab
my phone. I select 999 and with my thumb on dial I peek out from the study down the hallway. Wispa is standing by the front door wagging her tail. Through the small stained-glass window in the door
I can see someone dressed in pink. Somehow this unlikely-for-a-burglar colour reassures me and I step into the hallway, shouting out a tentative ‘hello’.
‘Hello,’ answers a female voice.
Of course, it’s Nicole, my dog walker. I open the door for her, feeling like an idiot.
‘Nicole, I’d forgotten you were coming.’
‘Anna! Nice to see you. Sorry, I didn’t know you were home, I would’ve rung the bell. I couldn’t open the lock . . .’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ve just changed it, that’s why your key wouldn’t work. It actually wasn’t even locked.’ I laugh sheepishly. ‘Let me get you a
new key.’ I rummage on the hallway shelf for the set the locksmith has given me.
‘You all right?’ asks Nicole.
‘Yes, thanks, just have tons of emails to catch up on, so decided to work from home.’ I know she’s asking me
Similar Books
