doing, standing in the overgrown flowerbed of the next-door house. You don’t live here, you stupid cow, she seemed to be saying. Have you forgotten where you live, now, as well?
I left the house alone and fished in my pocket for my key. My hallway was empty, and quiet. I’d forgotten to reset the timer on the central heating again and the house was freezing, bitter. The cat tried to trip me up all the way to the kitchen, even though I grumbled at her and told her that I was no good to her lying in the hallway with a broken ankle.
I turned on the kitchen light, found the cat biscuits from the cupboard under the sink and shook a load into her bowl. She meowed at me, her voice cracking on the highest note.
The cat fed, I should have cooked myself something. I should have gone to the fridge – or the freezer, more likely – and found myself something decent to cook that involved vegetables and something healthy. But I had no appetite. I smiled at the thought that this whole business with the bodies was finally making me lose weight where diet after diet had failed.
The house was echoingly quiet as well as cold.
I turned the radio on in the hope of getting rid of the morbid shroud that seemed to be draping itself over my shoulders, hoping for something upbeat. The song, unidentifiable, was just coming to an end.
‘…if you’ve just joined us, we’re talking about the Briarstone Chronicle’s campaign, which is good news for all of us, really, isn’t it? Sally, do you know your neighbours?’
‘Yes, I do! We have been in our house for a few years, though, and we’re really good friends. But the last house I lived in wasn’t like that at all – I lived there for five years and I had no idea who lived next door. And I think it’s a shame…’
‘Mmm, yes, and there doesn’t seem to be any reason for it – we just need to be friendly and make an effort to get to know people. You don’t need to make friends, if that’s not your thing – but you never know when you might need each other, after all – ’
‘And the population is ageing, isn’t it? I think in a few years’ time there will be many more elderly people living on their own, and having neighbours they can rely on is very important…’
‘We’re going to take some more calls on this, so give us a ring! Are you friends with your neighbours? Perhaps you’re getting on a bit, and starting to worry about being on your own? Or maybe you’re worried about your neighbours but don’t want to intrude? Give us a call on the usual number and we’ll talk to some people after the traffic…’
They were missing the point, I thought. Having neighbours didn’t make a blind bit of difference if you chose to ignore them.
‘… and on the line now is Alan from Briarstone – now, you don’t know your neighbours, is that right?’
‘Yeah, Rob, it’s like, I’ve got this old couple on the one side, yeah, and they don’t even talk to me. I mean, I said hello to them the other day and they nodded but nothing else, and – ’
‘But do you think they might be waiting for you to say more, Alan? You know sometimes elderly people can feel vulnerable, and they don’t know who they can trust?’
‘Yeah, I know, but everyone used to talk to each other, I mean, when I was growing up, yeah, everyone used to be out on the streets all the time, talking and that.’
‘And people stayed in one place for longer, let’s not forget that – these days people move around more, they change jobs or upsize or downsize all the time…’
I opened the back door to let the cat out, and gave an experimental sniff. There was a breeze tonight, stirring the branches in the trees behind the house. Beyond the trees, the main road, and, beyond that, the cemetery. I could smell nothing, and for a moment I wondered if I had imagined finding Shelley Burton next door. The odour had gone; the remains had been cleaned up, no doubt by some council workers while I’d been in the office. She was gone, completely gone, every trace, as though she’d never lived.
Briarstone Chronicle
October
Local Woman ‘Had Been Dead For Months’
Police officers called to a house in Newmarket Street, Briarstone