‘Cheerio!’ Margery hollered through the wood, followed by ‘Thanks again!’
Helena was left standing there, surprised by the cursory dismissal. She blinked several times, trying to work out whether she had imagined what she had just seen inside. The light was so dim it was hard to know whether her eyes had deceived her, but it had seemed as though the entire hallway was piled with newspapers, cardboard boxes, and what looked like stacks of post. Helena couldn’t imagine what on earth anyone could possibly want to keep all that for. Her mind spun as she thought of possible careers Margery may have had resulting in a collection such as that – perhaps she had been editor of a national newspaper, andhad kept each addition for posterity? But that would only explain the papers… She suddenly realised she had absolutely no idea about her neighbour, about any of her neighbours for that matter. It was such a shame. She thought back to what village life would have been like a hundred years before, with everyone chatting to each other as they queued up at the old village shop and the post office, with barn dances in the village hall and the church being a hub of community just like the pub was now. It would have been impossible not to integrate.
After three years in Hambleton she had grasped a few people’s names, and the odd bit of gossip that she caught at the school gate, but generally, she knew little to nothing about anyone. Perhaps she should make more of an effort? She knew Noah hated the thought of socialising with their fellow villagers, but perhaps she should, she didn’t have to include him. He was always at work, anyway. She didn’t know why he was so reluctant. Whenever he had met her friends back when they’d first started dating, or when he got chatting to people at the Crooked Hook, he always seemed to enjoy it, coming across as nothing other than the most charming of conversationalists. It was only when they got home that he would complain that it had been a waste of his time, how he disliked enduring small talk with people he had no wish to know.
Helena decided that she would try to engage Margery in conversation when she saw her out and about with the dogs, perhaps she could help her have a clear out. Maybe she found it hard to keep on top of chores. Did she have no family to take care of her? Helena felt a wave of guilt wash over her as she pushed open her own front door to reveal a light, airy clean hallway with nothing but a wooden table and a pot plant.
‘Good workout?’ Noah asked as she came through to the open-plan living area off the kitchen.
Helena bent over to kiss him. ‘Not bad!’ she smiled. ‘Moved on to the train set now Raf?’
‘It’s a steam engine,’ he corrected. He was sprawled out on histummy next to his train set, making some impressive sound effects as he negotiated his train over a bridge.
‘I had rather a strange encounter with Margery. I found one of her dogs out on the road so I popped around to take it back in…’ Noah was looking at her with a vacant expression as if he couldn’t imagine why she thought he would be interested. ‘She would barely open the front door, but from what I could see the hallway was crammed from floor to ceiling with junk.’
‘And?’
‘I was thinking perhaps I should offer to give her a hand with the housework… I’m not sure she’s got any relatives. She always seems to be by herself.’
‘Helena. How many times do I have to tell you to mind your own business? Who gives a crap if some old woman needs to tidy her house? What has it got to do with us?’
She had known that this was exactly what he would say and wondered, not for the first time, why she had bothered telling him. She finished the glass of water she had poured herself and went upstairs to shower. As she lathered her skin with a citrusy soap she decided to ignore Noah. She would make more of an effort to get to know her neighbours, starting with Margery. He didn’t need to know about it, after all. If Margery were her mother, she knew she would have wanted her neighbours to keep an eye on her, to make sure she was okay. Now she came to think of it, there was absolutely no way her mother wouldn’t have already befriended everyone in the village by now. She bit back a wave of tears at the thought of her. That deep longing was like a splinter of glass under the skin, in some ways it may have healed over with the passage of time, but it was always just as painful.
8
THE SOUND OFthe letterbox clanging open and shut tore Helena’s attention away from the ironing. She was on the last of Noah’s work shirts, the new batch he had begrudgingly made her order, finishing with the collar, ironed from the inside out, just as he had shown her. His method was very precise, and one she had got down to a fine art since taking on his ironing. It was one of the many household chores she had become responsible for since giving up work. She found ironing mind-numbingly boring and had once suggested that they paid someone else to do it. Noah had looked at her as if she were stark raving mad even to suggest paying for something she could easily do herself. It was at times like these she missed her financial independence the most, earning her own money to spend on whatever she chose, without having to consult anyone, safe in the knowledge that no one would be checking her bank statements in minute detail. She hated having a budget to stick to. He put a certain amount into the house account which she had access to, and she was always careful not to overspend: the thought of having to deal with his reaction were she to ask for more money was all the incentive she needed.
Helena switched off the iron and took the finished shirts upstairs to hang in Noah’s wardrobe before they became creased or, worse, marked by Raffy’s sticky fingerprints when he came home from school. As she came back downstairs she picked up the envelope that was resting on the doormat, intrigued. It was addressed to her, handwritten in green ink in a swirling script. She tore it open as she put the kettle on to make herself a cup of tea, wondering whoit could possibly be from. She had no friends, and definitely none that lived locally enough to hand deliver.
The neon pink card inside was an invitation from Nathalie, asking Raffy, Helena and Noah to attend Maisy’s birthday party in a few weekends’ time. Helena rushed back to the door and flung it open to see if Nathalie was still visible, knowing she would be long gone but hoping to have the chance to chat to her a bit. She was disproportionately excited to have been asked. She wanted to get to know Nathalie a bit better. She felt buoyed up by her decision to get to know her neighbours and resolved to tell Noah about the invitation, hoping that he would at least let her and Raffy go for once – there was no need for him to come with them, so hopefully the suggestion wouldn’t upset him.
That evening as they lay in bed reading Helena brought it up, aiming for a casual tone.
‘I forgot to mention, we got an invitation through the letterbox earlier.’
‘Oh yes?’ Noah raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow into a delicate arch, keeping his eyes fixed on his book. His stubble caught the light from the bedside table lamp, revealing a copper tinge to the dark hair that had grown back since his morning shave.
‘You know Nathalie, one of the village mums?’
‘Can’t say that I do.’
‘The one we saw on our walk the other day… she lives at Stable Cottages?’
‘Right.’
‘Anyway she’s asked us to go along to her daughter Maisy’s birthday party, they’re having a picnic.’
‘Sounds horrendous.’
‘It’s the Saturday after next… I’m sure Raffy would love it. I was thinking perhaps I could take him, if you don’t mind, and you could stay here if you don’t want to join? Or it might be fun for us all to go? We haven’t been to anything like that for ages.’
Noah sighed. ‘I cannot think of anything worse. And Raffy doesnot need to mix with any old Tom, Dick or Harry just because they happen to live in the same village, Helena.’
‘But she seems really nice—’
‘Enough.’ Noah slammed the book onto the duvet in front of him and turned to face her with an exasperated expression on his face. ‘I am not putting myself, or my son, through a godawful afternoon of small talk, E numbers and undoubtedly cheap wine on one of my few precious days off.’
Helena’s heart immediately started to race at his tone of voice. God he could be infuriating. She wasn’t even asking him to go. But there was no use pushing it. She so wanted to make some new friends and get out of the house, but she could hardly turn up without Raffy. She sighed, under her breath for fear of bating Noah, remembering her promise to herself to keep the peace, and decided to let it go. She would say no. No doubt Nathalie would think she was not only antisocial but also rude. She couldn’t say they were away because they wouldn’t be, and anyone walking through the village would only have to pass their house and hear Raffy playing in the garden to know that they were in.
