How long do you have to live next door to someone before they are no longer the 'New' neighbours?
In our case it looks like at least two years, we'd known Chris and Nicola quite well when they'd lived next door but his business took off, something IT related and he got a big contract with Worldwide pictures in Hollywood and with that came a big farmhouse on loads of land out in the country.
We'd been over several times, first to their housewarming party and I often saw Nicola around town, for a coffee and a chat, but as I said they'd moved out over two years ago and as the new neighbours kept themselves pretty much to themselves we were only at the 'nodding on the driveway' stage of neighbourly relations.
Stuart, my husband, was less concerned about this than I was, he's not as naturally gregarious as me, being a civil engineer he's less of a social butterfly. I used to work in marketing at Goodson Knight Charnley, a Facilities Management company in Bristol, but they made half the workforce redundant last year and offshored it all to Manila. I now work three days a week in the Department of Agriculture in Bath. It's uninspiring, but steady.
He claims he'd prefer a night in with The Great British Bake Off or the Sewing Bee to a party but he likes a good boogie every now and then. He also has a once-a-week pint on a Friday with his mates Barry, Rick, and Jason. Chris used to be part of the Friday pub crew but since he'd moved was only an occasional member, they called him their 'visiting professor' because that's the level of humour they aspired to. That's us, I prefer 'conventional' to 'dull.'
I was in Waitrose one Thursday afternoon when I had one of those 'I know you' moments that left me feeling quite embarrassed at my stupidity when a late thirties woman, average height, attractive in an anonymous, suburban, kind of way smiled and greeted me with a friendly 'hello'. My confusion must have been evident because she followed up with "Charlotte, you know, Charlotte and Will. From next door?"
I went every shade of red from beetroot to vermillion. Of course, she was. I felt so stupid.
In my embarrassment I blustered, "Oh. Yes. Sorry. Miles away, and out of context. You're normally outside your house which gives me a clue. Sorry. Of course, you're outside your house now, technically, but Meadow View is a long way off."
I was making it worse. Why couldn't I shut up. In an effort to get back onto safe territory I remarked on her trolley. It was laden with three cases of Waitrose Prosecco, two of San Pellegrino and half the world's supply of cheese and breadsticks.
"Party? Or just a diet I need to learn more about?"
Thankfully, she laughed, "Yes. Party, tomorrow. Sort of a housewarming really, although it's been what two and a half years? Mind you covid took care of two of them I suppose."
I latched onto 'Housewarming' and made the natural (for me) and as it turned out, wrong, assumption that this meant the neighbourhood was all invited.
"Ooh, that will be lovely. I can't wait to see how you've changed Chris and Nicola's décor, what shall I bring? I do a rather good spicy salsa."
OK, it's a Jamie Oliver recipe but I've pepped it up a bit with Scotch Bonnet chillies and a lot more lime juice than he uses. If you really want the recipe, email me.
Charlotte was suddenly back pedalling at a rate of knots.
"Oh, well. When I say housewarming, I mean to say, um... We've got some friends from where we used to live coming over. It's kind of a catch up. We were going to have a separate party for our new neighbours in the spring."
I must have let my surprise and disappointment show because she hummed a bit then said "Look, I'll ask Will if he thinks it would be possible, maybe come round early, before we get too Humm, raucous." She said 'raucous' like it was a question.
I gave what I hoped was a worldly laugh and told her not to worry on that account. "We used to get pretty 'raucous' ourselves when Chris and Nic lived in your house. The lifestyle was quite wild in those days."
Looking back that may be where the misunderstanding began, because Charlotte's demeanour changed from nervous to acceptance almost immediately.
"Oh, well, that's alright then. Come round any time after eight. That's when the performers are arriving, ready for a nine start. We'll have plenty of fizz and nibbles."
I gave a squeak of excitement. "Oooh, we had a foursome round once when Chris and Nic were there. We joined in after they'd done their bit."
It was true, for Nicola's thirty fifth birthday Chris had hired a band to play at the party, once they'd done their set we'd been invited to sing along karaoke style.
And that will be where the misunderstanding really set in.
Looking much more confident Chalotte said she'd let Will know.
"Don't worry about bringing anything, we take it in turns to supply everything at these events. Maybe you can host one sometime? Right, see you tomorrow, dress appropriately." And off she went with a beaming smile, leaving me slightly perplexed. 'Dress appropriately? These events?' Of course, I would. I've been to house parties before. Never been pretentious enough to call them 'events' though.
I finished my shop and headed home.
That evening I mentioned to Stuart that we'd been invited to next door's party, he surprised me by asking if I was sure I wanted to go. He's normally the first to get his dancing trousers on so his reticence was out of the ordinary.
"It's just," he explained, "I've heard rumours about their parties. Remember when we went away last summer and someone had driven across the lawn?"
I shut him down right away. "Oh, come on Stu, a bit of squished grass is no reason to hold a grudge. We're going and that's it."
"No, Mel it's more than..."
I stopped him again, "Talk to the hand," Yes, it's always nineteen ninety-seven when I'm annoyed. "We. Are. Going."
He rolled his eyes, which is normally guaranteed to annoy me, "OK, we are going, but remember this moment, hand gestures and everything, on Friday evening when we come back home after the party. I won't say 'I told you so', but I'll be thinking it." And this occasion was no different.
Fortunately, I had a party to look forward to, and I got to snoop around our old friends' house to see what had changed, so I didn't stay annoyed for long.
Friday wasn't long to wait, and at six I went upstairs to start getting ready, I'd just finished a luxurious bath, doing a little trimming, waxing and nail painting along the way and was applying my makeup dressed only in my bathrobe when Stuart walked into the bedroom.
"I'd wear the Janet Reger set if I were you. You look really hot in it."
Now he doesn't normally specify my underwear for evenings out, being happy enough to help me out of whatever I'm wearing but it so happens he's right. I have a set of silk Janet Reger bra and French knickers with a matching suspender belt and I do look like a sex goddess in it, however I did wonder why he was putting in requests.
"Why? I mean, yes I do look good, in a pin-up, page three, teenaged fantasy sort of way, but it's not like anyone's going to see it."
He chuckled "You never know. Anyway, I like it."
"Well, you'll love this then," I reached into my wardrobe and pulled out my new party dress, it was low where it needed to be low and cut high where it needed to be cut high, black with deep blue shimmery panels on the sides.
I slipped it over my head and took a look in the mirror.
Ah.
A medium height woman with blonde highlights in her light brown hair looked back. Legs looked fine, shapely, and well proportioned, she was slim at the waist and had a tight backside. Her face was pretty with brown eyes and a turned-up nose. Where it was causing a tightening of the stomach was the hemline and the neckline.
It was shorter than I remembered in the changing room in town and I'd been wearing a camisole top under it then so it didn't look quite so daringly low cut.
I couldn't wear the Janet Reger set, the hemline on the dress was shorter than the legs on the French knickers, and the bra showed under the dress.
Stuart stepped out of the bathroom and joined me in the mirror. He had black Chinos, a black shirt, and black socks.
"Loving the outfit but the underwear shows a bit, you should probably change it."
He's so helpful sometimes.
I swapped the French knickers for some skimpy black lace boy shorts and the bra for some double-sided tape then slipped on my four-inch Louboutin heels. I got them years ago in a closing down sale and I rarely get a chance to wear them, being very tiny, and exquisitely uncomfortable.
It was five past eight when we shut the front door and I tiptoed across the paving slabs in the lawn to reach Charlotte and Stuart's house, there were already half a dozen cars in the drive and on the road outside. I rang the doorbell and went to greet Charlotte with a Hollywood style air kiss when she pulled me in tight for a hug and gave Stuart a theatrical snog.
She called into the house, "Will darling it's Melanie and Stuart from next door. Everyone, this is Melanie, Mel, and her husband Stuart from next door. We're so lucky to have them as neighbours. Come along, everyone's dying to get to meet you, what with you both being new."
We were bustled in; I had a large glass of what Will described as 'Caribbean punch' handed to me. It seemed to be mainly prosecco, fruit juice and Bacardi. And, as I found out later, Tequila and Coconut Rum in almost equal quantities. I had downed about half of it before I realised how strong it was, by which time it was too late and I downed the second half and went back for a refill.
A tall, slightly older guy, hair greying at the temples with a strong jaw and green eyes took my elbow and led me away from the bar area to a large sofa in the living room. He had an accent I couldn't place and it seemed a simple entry to a conversation so I asked where he was from.
"I'm Josef. I'm from Portugal, but I have lived in England for ten years now, I came over to make movies but now I run a photographic agency. Charlotte, she works there as my bookings and customer relations manager. Tell me what you do, you must be a model you are so beautiful. So, if I may say, sexy."
