Next Door Neighbours

Manil found himself more disturbed than usual by the comings and
goings of the Sabot's from next door. They usually irritated him only
slightly but this afternoon he was more than vexed by them. He had
taken to spying on them from behind the raw silk curtains in the spare
room, his body tensed and flattened against the wall behind the
material, his neck aching from arching sideways to peer out without
being seen. Fford, his dark hair bouncing in the wind, getting out of
his car, lighting a cigarette, inhaling as he glanced up and down the
empty street before leaning back into the car and taking a package from
within the glove-compartment. Manil wondered what was concealed within
the B &; Q bag - drugs? Porn? In the event of a Police raid and
possible Court Case, he recorded such things on scraps of paper - he
had been meaning to buy a notepad from the supermarket next time he
went, but never remembered.

Sometimes a woman visited, quite a beautiful thing, silky hair pinned
haphazardly up as though she had done it in just a second without
caring.

"Probably took her hours, "Manil had sneered to himself, wise on these
matters jotting down a brief description of her and her car
registration number.

Others came and went oblivious to Manil's prying eyes and breath
misting the window.

"Perhaps I'm a pervert?" he wondered, but knew this was not so.

Music played day and night, not too loud, but loud enough Manil
thought. He felt the thud thud of the bass drum vibrating through his
body, disturbing the rhythm of his heart as he tried to sleep. Just a
little noise, far off, not too loud but as he tried to close his mind
to it, it seemed to magnify to deafening proportions. He would bury his
head beneath his pillow and moan softly to himself, wondering what he
had ever done to deserve such poor treatment from his neighbours.

Laughter most times. Yes, he even heard them laughing next door. The
sound travelled through the cracks in the plaster on the walls, where
the damp had left the wall-paper peeling, and it felt that they were
taunting him, tormenting him with their happiness and joviality.

"Do you laugh at me?" he cried out once, but the laughter never
stopped. They had not heard him.

Doors slamming again, mobile phones ringing, children calling out. The
young woman with the silky hair pulled up in her car, stereo blasting.
Manil was adjusting the net-curtains at that precise moment and their
eyes met. She waved cheerily but he darted back behind the curtains,
desperate for a glimpse but afraid because his cover had been
temporarily blown.

"Louisa! You are here at last!!!" A welcome kiss on the cheek, Fford's
hair black like the night, catching the sun, glinting. Laughter,
smiles, doors slamming.

Manil cussed softly beneath his breath.

Today there were more of them. Cars parked bumper to bumper all along
the street, blocking his drive. He did not actually own a car, but what
if he did? How would he manoeuvre it onto the road? They arrived in
herds - almost. Young couples, old couples, children. Lots of them.
Gate slamming shut, iron on iron, over and over. Knock, knock. Shrieks
of delight. Laughter, always laughter.

"Grandmother, come in, come in. Look Louisa who has come!"

Laughter, laughter, laughter.

Manil sat huddled in the gloom. He was more angry than ever
before.

Through the open window drifted the smell of barbecued food, delicious
spices, sizzling meats. Glasses clinking, gentle music filling the
afternoon air. Glorious sunshine. The sun always shines on the
righteous, he thought bitterly.

Remembering a lone bottle of Spumanti chilling in the fridge, he
rehearsed what he might say. Something light-hearted, casual perhaps, a
spontaneous action. Take the wine, he thought, and knock on the door.
Perhaps the young woman with the pinned up hair would answer the door,
greet him with a smile, accept the wine and invite him inside. In no
time at all he would be sitting in the Sabot's back garden, indulging
in good food and wine, pleasant music, licking grease from his fingers,
entertaining his neighbours with his pleasing conversation.

He shook his head sadly. It was not his style, not his way. The wine
would remain cooling. After all, he had behaved quite badly towards
them. They had indeed tried to be friendly once, he had to admit, but
he had shunned them, ignored them, had complained to them about the
slightest thing. He had shook his fist at their son and thrown water
over their cat for straying onto his lawn. He had ruined their cherry
blossom tree by hacking off offending branches that swayed prettily
over his side of the fence, he had banged on the wall whenever he heard
them playing music and complained to the Council about them. Now they
did not bother with him at all, apart from the girl with the hair who
always managed a smile or a wave.

He regretted his actions now, wished he had not acted so hastily.

Manil sighed heavily and remained huddled in the gloom for a while,
then brightened a little, cheered up somewhat as he reached for the
phone and dialled the local Police. After all, next door were making
quite a lot of noise and it had been going on for hours
now&;#8230;.