The Neighbour
ONE
The aluminium dustbin weighed a ton as I carried it down the drive to join the bags already out the front. I was careful not to scratch Dad's Hillman Hunter. That was his pride and joy.
So much rubbish is generated by a house move. I didn't understand it. Surely you threw your junk out before you moved, not take it with you to the new house and bin it there. But what did I know? I was the kid. In truth, I was eighteen. Not so much a kid, but it wasn't something I could tell my parents. To them, I was still ten most days.
I tucked the bin against the little garden wall where it wouldn't block anyone's way and looked up and down the road I now now called home. It was a typical modern seventies housing estate. A cul-de-sac of nearly identical dormer-style semi-detached homes, of which ours was just one.
Only the house on the corner was different. A large detached home with a double bay frontage and Georgian-style windows with random panes of bullseye glass. They were the wealthy ones in the area. A brand new Granda Ghia sat on the driveway.
I looked back at my new home. Not quite as plush, but yeah. It was a far cry from the old Victorian semi we'd come from across town. It was coming into summer but my big hope was for the winter. This might actually be comfortable. I was sick of drafty rooms and ice on the windows. Dressing under the blankets and huddling around the coal fire. Or needing a hot water bottle just to unfreeze the sheets before I risked climbing into bed.
This house had double glazing and central heating. We'd arrived in the twentieth century, but given what I was used to, I could be living in an episode of Buck Roger's.
A dog barked in the distance and I headed back inside.
"It's crooked."
"It's not."
Dad was putting up a curtain rail with Mum supervising. She was standing back with her arms folded across that apron she always wore.
"Don't you ever use a spirit level?"
"I did, but it looks crooked against the ceiling."
"It'll look worse with one curtain on the floor and the other halfway up the wall."
"It's not that bad."
I stood next to Mum and looked.
"Actually, it is Dad." I offered, seeing the distinct slope.
"Thanks for your support."
Mum looked smug.
"Told you."
The other thing I loved about this house was the carpets. In that it had carpets. Not one giant square in the living room and linoleum in the bedrooms.
My room was at the back of the house. One of the two equally sized main bedrooms. Square, except for the airing cupboard by the door. It was on the landing but cut a corner off each of the bedrooms. The remaining alcoves were fitted out with built-in wardrobes. Someone's DIY job but sound. And the great thing was more heat in the winter through that gypsum board wall.
The third bedroom was a box room. Tiny. Dad would probably shelve that for storage but at the moment it was piled high with moving boxes. Somewhere in there was my cassette player and all my tapes.
The previous owners had been a younger couple. Younger than Mum and Dad, with two small children. No old people flowery carpets and wallpaper in dull colours. I still had the same divan and teak drawers and desk, but they already looked brighter and more up-to-date against the blues of the painted walls and short pile carpet.
Yes. My retreat looked more adult. I'd get some posters or something to make it look more homely. I wondered if I could get away with one of Ursula Andress looking sexy in that white Bikini from Dr No. Mum probably wouldn't be impressed, but then she hadn't seen Craig's room. My friend had some real risqué ones. It was almost a wall-to-wall Pirelli calendar with boobs everywhere you looked. Perhaps I should ask where he got them. Athena didn't sell anything that outlandish.
I went to school the next morning. My final few weeks of sixth form. I had a few last-minute lessons before sitting my A-levels then I'd be done. I spent my first period in the Common Room listening to records. Someone had brought in a Sweet LP I was happy to revise along to. I imagined Dad asking how I could hear myself think with all that racket but I was fine with it.
I had History before dinner then spent that at the local chippy with some mates watching the girls from the other school.
Lloyd was full of it as usual. Anyone would think he was Casanova the way he talked about how many girls he'd shagged. I'd never seen much evidence of it. We humoured him but we all thought he was a virgin, just like me. Craig was the only one of us we knew wasn't. He'd done it up an alley with Shelia after a school disco while we'd kept watch-out on the main road sniggering.
Shelia was okay. Quite nice to look at but everyone knew she was a bike. It did give him a bit of street cred with the rest of us though.
"What about Kathy?"
Lloyd said, trying to encourage me to date one of the girls.
"I've seen her tits."
"Like hell you have." I laughed.
Lloyd had always 'seen her tits' or 'her minge'. According to him, half the girl's school, including some of the teachers had given him a blowjob in the broom cupboard. It was all crap.
"I have so. I saw her getting changed when I was at her house with her brother."
I sighed.
"Perv.
I don't care anyway. She's not my type."
"No one's your type." Craig teased.
"Stop waiting for the special one.
If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you are with."
I wasn't that bothered. Yeah, it'd be nice to have a girlfriend. Even a quick shag like Craig had managed. But I didn't obsess with it. Girls weren't my priority. Nor did I really know how to talk to them. Our schools were separated, boys on one side of town, girls on the other. There were an odd few pupils that crossed over for specific lessons. And there was common ground visited by both outside. Like the Chippy. Wimpy was another. Always a gang of giggling girls in the corner eyeing the boys up after school.
"Julia's here." Lloyd suddenly announced excitedly.
I looked up from where we sat on the low wall eating our chips. Julia was from the girl's school but came up to ours for the metalwork classes. She was a bit of a women's libber, but cute.
Lloyd liked her. And being a practical sort of girl she was right up his street.
"I think I'm in love." He said.
"Hey. Julia."
Yeah of course he had to shout out. And as always he got only a smile in return.
"One day." He said as he watched her walk on.
"One day."
"One day she's going to stick your prick in a vice and hacksaw it off." Craig laughed.
I stayed quiet.
"Are we going back to school?" Craig asked.
These last few weeks it was optional apart from the lessons. We were done. School was as good as over for us.
"Got a Maths refresher. I have to."Lloyd said.
"Not me. I'm off to the snooker hall.
Kev?"
That was Craig. He didn't take revising seriously. He also seemed to have a photographic memory so probably didn't need to. I did.
"Not me.
I'm gonna be boring and read up on the Indian Mutiny at home."
"Boring.
I'll help you out. We won."
I stood up and threw my paper in the bin.
"I think it was a little more complicated than that.
See ya later."
I walked home along roads fresh to me. This wasn't the old town I'd grown up in. It was bright and airy. Open spaces of green grass and house proud owners who liked decorative wagon wheels and fake shutters. This was more like the colourful world I saw on TV.
Two years ago Dad had bought our first colour telly and I was still marvelling at the vibrant colourful images. Moving to the new home made it seem as if I'd been lifted out of the dull black-and-white past and dropped into boogie land. The future.
These past few months especially, I did get a sense of change. Moving had brought it to the fore even more. Everything was changing. Music, fashion, even the Prime Minister. We had a woman. I didn't think she would last long. The unions would have everyone on strike again. And so many people hated her just for being a woman. My own history teacher had given us a lecture about 'that bloody woman'. At attitude that seemed a bit archaic to me.
And of course, we were on the cusp of a new decade. Six months and I'd be living in the eighties, the future of Gerry Anderson's U.F.O and countless Doctor Who stories.
I was changing as well. I was leaving school. All vestiges of childhood had slipped away almost unnoticed and I found myself on the verge of being an adult. Soon I'd have a job. Even my friends looked like men when I opened my eyes to it. They weren't those seven-year-olds I'd first met anymore. They had stubble and drank beer and leered at the girls we'd once teased. I just hadn't seen it until now.
We met the adjoining neighbour on Saturday. Dad was sorting out the garage while I helped by unpacking boxes.
