The Angel of Mons - chapter four

Four
They had been travelling for over three hours, so when the large black Standard Vanguard pulled up outside number six, the doors opened quickly and the passengers climbed out without hesitation. A man and a woman stood by the car, his arm around her shoulder as they examined the house, referring back a sheet of paper that she held tightly in both hands. Two of the children, both boys, ran quickly up the garden path their arms out stretched as if in flight. They were young, five and seven perhaps. The elder child, a daughter stood a little sulkily next to the car kicking the tyre and frowning.
Her mother, a tall handsome woman with thick wavy brown hair gestured to the girl to follow them as the husband, a large featured man with thin fare hair and slim build walked toward the front door, key in hand.
The boys made another flight round the garden, this time “ratter tatting,” as they went. They too were gathered by the mother and together they entered number six without noticing the curtain next door twitch very slightly as Graham allowed it to settle back into position.
Inside number six the Wilson’s shuffled slowly around on the bare wooden floorboards. They talked about which piece of furniture would best suit which part of the lounge. They imagined their dining table by the door to the kitchen. They allocated rooms, the front room for the boys, the side room for Gini. They expressed their concern over the design of the fireplace and the size of the kitchen on the one hand and their approval of the size of the garden on the other. Not to big, not to small. They looked in the garage and in the coal-bunker and wondered about the quality of the fittings in the bathroom.
When, after an hour they walked out into the front garden, they once again turned and looked back at the house. The boys had stopped flying and the younger of the two leant impatiently against his mothers side while the elder stood next to his father, the girl stood in front of the group. It was as if they were posing for a family portrait. The woman turned to her husband and they exchanged smiles.
Four weeks later early in the afternoon of the first Friday of November, George noticed a high sided dark blue removals van as it made its way passed his house and pulled up outside number six. It was followed by the black Standard Vanguard, which Graham had commented on a few weeks before.
He watched as the children ran from the car, once more flying and ratter tatting, the girl calm an quiet, the woman smiling, in a long dark blue coat and blue slacks, the husband in a green sweater and brown trousers, smoking.
George noted that the van was from Coventry.
George made his way slowly to the living room where Graham was reading and listening to one of George’s least favourite records, a collection of traditional jazz music. He stood by the warming coal fire causing Bully to wake and growl slightly as his space on the hearthrug was being encroached. George stared for a while into the bright radiating hearth before turning and announcing to Graham that their neighbours had arrived.
George took a sly look when he could. While making the lunch and getting more coal from the garage. He commented to Graham on the amount of furniture which they seemed to have and how the children appeared to have boundless energy as they ran around excitedly. “Perhaps we could have them take you for a walk Bully?” he said smiling at the lazy animal who responded by rolling on his back, baring all. Graham continued to read and responded with the occasional raised eyebrow or grunt.
It was growing dark when George made the tea and Graham finally brought through the tray, placing it carefully on the table, which had been placed in front of the fire, much to Bully’s obvious distaste.
Graham began heating crumpets on a long fork and George sat, cup and saucer in hand, staring blankly into the flames.
“Do you think it would be proper for us to go and introduce ourselves?” Asked George, his expression remaining unchanged. Graham examined the crumpet closely and satisfied it was ready he slid it onto George’s plate. George instinctively grabbed it before an advancing Bully was able to snap his slobbering jaws around it.
“Lets give them a day or two to settle in George, I think that would be the done thing,” he replied as he impaled another crumpet, this time for himself.
When, a couple of hours later George went to the kitchen to prepare supper his attention was drawn to the house next door. He had not really noticed before how close number six actually was, and he only noticed now because for the first time, there were lights on. George smiled, and went over to the window.
His kitchen looked out to the side of number six. He could see the lights in the small bedroom, this was the equivalent room to the one which Graham and he used as a study. He could see the front door, which was still open, had a welcoming light burning above.
Just as George was serving the supper, he heard voices. It was the removal men; they had finished and were saying their goodbyes. They shook hands and waved, patted the children and headed for home.
George’s new neighbours stood in the cold by the front door while the large van turned at the bottom of the small culde sac, and drove past. George realised that he must have been staring when suddenly, the woman caught his eye, smiled at him and waved. George quickly pulled away from the window and stood, out of sight. He frowned and bit his lip. Eventually he took a deep breath, fixed a smile and stepped back into view, his right arm raised in readiness to wave. They were gone. George’s smile melted away, his hand lowered and he leant heavily against the sink as if he were suddenly burdened with a heavy load.
At around eight thirty, after they had eaten and they were sitting next to the fire Bully at George’s feet on the rug once more, George told Graham what had happened. “That’s not good, at best they will think you are nosy, or a recluse, at worse, the will have you down as a loony,” he laughed.
Graham had just opened their second bottle of red wine when they heard a gentle tapping on the back door.
For a moment they both sat, silent, afraid almost. The tapping was repeated and they could hear muffled voices through the door. Bully needed no further encouragement, he stood, shook himself let out a deep bark and trotted noisily toward the back door barking rhythmically. George gestured to Graham to find out who was there. Graham, wide eyed pointed to his own chest, mouthed the word “Me?” Looked dramatically to the ceiling and eventually got up and answered the door. “Away Bully,” called Graham, and having done his aggressive guard dog act, the animal turned and walked back to the warmth of the fire where he sat, looking toward the door. George could not see the back door, but felt the draft which was drawn into the house by the roaring coals. However he could clearly hear what was being said. It was a woman’s voice, soft and deep, with a slightly unfamiliar accent. “We weren’t sure there was anybody in, it being Friday night, people like to get out. I am sorry to trouble you,” she continued a little hesitantly. George got up, and walked toward the kitchen so that he could see the open door Bully followed a little timidly to heal. He noticed her look past Graham and at him, “oh,” she said smiling a broad warm smile, “hello again.”
George smiled at her but quickly broke eye contact, choosing instead to gaze at his checked slippers, only looking up again when she began to speak.
“We’ve just moved in next door,” she turned and pointed to the house as if she thought they had not noticed them arrive, “and we were wondering if you would like to join us for a drink, to celebrate, nothing much, just to get to know each other a little I suppose?” At that moment George noticed the small boy nestled in his mothers skirt. He looked round her legs, his large green eyes wide, his left thumb firmly stuck in his mouth.
George surprised himself when he immediately agreed and said they would be round in ten minutes. Graham frowned at him as he closed the door and shook his head.
There was no response when they first knocked but George could clearly hear Bully whimpering from the kitchen where he had been left. Graham stood shaking his head and mumbling to himself. He had insisted that they both put on their jackets and he was wearing his checked flat cap. Graham had also insisted that they walk down their drive, and back up the path of their neighbours. He did not approve of cutting across the garden.
Eventually the door swung open and the husband, who introduced himself as Harry smiled warmly, stood back in the doorway and ushered them in.
“You’ve met my wife, Terri,” he said as she emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray with four glasses arranged on it. Harry explained that they only had a little whiskey, “with the move and everything, I hadn’t realised how low we were.” Harry offered George and Graham a cigarette, which they both politely declined. He lit his cigarette and then introduced them to the children, Edward, who was six, and James who was eleven. He explained that there daughter Gini was in her room, tidying up. And that Terri was expecting their fourth, “and last,” child at the end of December.
The room was lit by two uncovered bulbs hanging from the ceiling, the floor was bare board and there were several tea chests stacked along one wall. It was strange thought George how a room which was exactly the same size and layout as theirs could be so very different. George was beginning to be pleased that Graham had insisted that they put on their jackets. The room was as cold as its lighting.
Terri presented the tray to George who reached across and took the glass, which contained the least. She was explaining to them that they had travelled down from Coventry, and that they were all quite tired having had such an early start. George saw little evidence of fatigue in the two boys who were kicking a wool pom-pom around the room excitedly.
“Welcome to Hobsons Walk,” announced Graham, they touched glasses and exchanged ‘cheers,’ before drinking. Suddenly, Terri gasped, and coughed, she looked at her husband and bit her lip. George quickly understood why. To his surprise, he discovered that he was drinking cold tea. Graham swallowed his drink and congratulated his hosts on what a fine whisky it was. Terri was relieved that Graham at least had picked up the glass intended for him. George smiled at her as she shrugged her shoulders. And then for the second time in one evening George surprised himself.
“Yes,” he said “it puts me in mind of the Glenfidick which we had last Christmas, you know Graham its in the side board, I really think you would enjoy it. Graham perhaps you would like to pop home and get the bottle?” Graham looked at his brother, his eyes wide. Five minutes later he returned with the bottle. George noticed that Graham had decanted about a quarter of it out before coming back. Harry took his glass and George’s and poured away the tea, he ran them under the cold tap and returned to the living room.
“Cheers,” said George. Terri raised her glass to him and smiled broadly, there was nothing George could do to prevent his cheeks turning bright red.