Neighbours

Full of expectation, Patty Jefferson rapped again on the door of number three Honeydew Drive. The house had been unoccupied for almost a year when someone moved in last week without being seen by any of the neighbours.

The arrival was a mystery to the other residents of the cosy cul-de-sac, not least of all Patty who viewed change as she viewed ready meals and toupees: with an inherent sense of trepidation.

Hearing footsteps approach on the other side of the door, Patty patted her neat silver bob in preparation of making a first impression.

Her smile soon slipped when she heard the footsteps retreat. As if in a trance, she stared at the peephole in the door, the Tupperware box of cookies suddenly heavy in her hands. She’d not even been given the opportunity to introduce herself. How rude!

Before she knew it, she was eye-level with the letterbox.

‘Helloooo,’ she called into the hallway cluttered with children’s toys. ’It’s Patty Jefferson. From number seven. I hope you’re settling in alright. It would be lovely to meet you. We’re a friendly bunch here in Honeydew.’

No response; simply silence.

As she closed the letterbox, Patty couldn’t help feeling deeply disappointed that her efforts had fallen flat. Maybe she was making more of this than necessary, but the idea that she didn’t know someone in the street was as foreign to her as Beirut. She’d long pushed to the back of her mind that there could be truth in the Daily Mail’s claims that the concept of community was extinct, but perhaps they’d been right all along.

She was halfway down the porch steps when the door opened behind her.

Brimming with anticipation, she turned on her heels and almost dropped her Tupperware in shock at the sight in front of her. Standing in the doorway was a woman in a hijab looking at Patty with wide, fearful eyes.

Patty was suddenly aware of her own stillness and willed herself to do or say something, anything. She’d only ever seen people like this in the news, in war-torn areas that couldn’t look any less like Cricklewood.

Still, ignorant she may have been, rude she was not.

‘I brought these for you,’ she said, holding out the Tupperware. ‘I hope that you can eat choco-, I mean, I hope you’ll enjoy them.’

The woman’s hands trembled as she took the box from Patty. Could it be that she was just as nervous about this meeting? Patty wondered. The idea had never occurred to her before, but, really, weren’t they both strangers to one another?

‘Thank you,’ the woman said quietly.

‘Oh, you’re welcome.’ Patty said, her voice louder than usual.

The woman smiled shyly. ‘Would like come in?’ she asked.

Patty was taken aback. She hadn’t imagined that she would receive an invitation to this woman’s house and it took a moment for her to form a response.

‘That would be lovely,’ she said at last, surprising herself with her answer.