‘We’re so sorry,’ she intones breathily. ‘We didn’t think it would take this long. Is the noise really bothering you?’
Her husband sighs with impatience, glaring at her and then Lottie in turn.
‘Look,’ he says, ‘We’re very sorry but this is our home. We have every right to …’
‘But clearly it’s not your home, is it?’ replies Lottie, descending a couple more steps, warming to her theme. ‘You’re not actually living here, right now, are you? In this building?’
The husband rolls his eyes, looking about him.
‘Well, no, of course not but—’
‘Right, thought so. No, you’ll be staying in some fancy hotel down the road, I expect, well away from all this racket and mess. Whereas we actually are living next door, at least for the week that we’ve rented the place. Don’t we have any rights?’
‘Oh for God’s sake,’ he says, turning to the two other men. ‘Heaven preserve us from—’
‘Well, how would you feel if it was your holiday?’ she says, raising her voice. ‘We’ve saved up all year for this. It’s the first time my son has even been to the coast.’ She can feel a wobble in her throat and is furious to find tears lancing at her eyes.
The wife takes a step towards the balustrade.
‘You poor thing,’ she says. ‘I completely understand.’
‘Olivia, leave this to me, please,’ the husband cuts in, and turns to Lottie. ‘I suggest you take the issue up with the owners of your property, dear. It’s nothing to do with us. We have planning permission and every right …’
‘Monday to Friday. Between the hours of 8am and 6pm,’ says the younger-looking man who is wearing a hard hat. ‘Saturdays 8 until 1.’ His tone is even, giving a statement of fact.
‘Yes,’ says Lottie, ‘And today is Saturday. You should have finished by now. Besides, it’s not practical for us to be out of the property all day long with a young child. The heat, the expense …’
The husband shakes his head at this as though dumbfounded. He looks at the other two men with his hands upturned.
‘What, pray, does she expect us to do about it?’
‘Listen to me,’ says Lottie, the heat rising in her body, adrenaline suddenly coursing through her. ‘It’s not safe for a young child to be living right next door to a building site.Anything could happen. You must know that a lot of these places round here are holiday rentals, let to young families with kids. It’s August, for Christ’s sake. Peak fucking season. What were you thinking?’
‘Listen to the potty mouth on that,’ he sniggers. ‘Charmed, I’m sure. Do you use language like that in front of your son?’
‘Stop it, please Tobias,’ says the wife.
Lottie can feel herself shaking now, a hard lump in her throat, tears brimming. She barely trusts herself to speak.
‘All I’m saying is, could you not have scheduled your renovation for winter, at a time out of season? Is that too much to ask?’ She shakes her head, looks at them all in turn, aware that a tear has tracked its way down one of her cheeks. ‘Well, is it?’
‘Right, so we’re expected to take into account a complete stranger’s holiday schedule, are we? I’ll be sure to check in advance next time,’ says the husband, laughing sourly.
‘We’ll try to make sure the noise is kept to a minimum,’ says the wife. ‘Won’t we?’ she asks plaintively, turning to the three other men.
‘Fine.’ Her husband nods. ‘Just keep your child well away from the site. And now, if you don’t mind, would you kindly get off my property?’ He holds out a hand to her as though inviting her to disembark a vessel.
Lottie clenches her jaw and begins to climb back up the stairs. As she stalks out of the house, she sees two teenagers in her periphery — a girl and a boy.
‘Wow. Dramarama!’ she hears one of them say. ‘Wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her. What a complete weapon!’
‘More like a loose cannon,’ she hears their father reply. ‘Crazy bitch.’
4
‘No want a carry. Down, down.’
‘Okay, Joshie. But you have to hold on to my hand while we’re crossing the road. It’s very busy. Lots of cars. Lots of people.’
