The Magpies A Psychological Thriller - By Mark Edwards Page 0,37

at all any more.’ He walked away and started to go up the steps. ‘Come on. I don’t want to waste any more of my time.’

Kirsty followed him. He walked purposefully into the living room and picked up the phone. ‘I’m going to call the police. Tell them we’re being harassed. It’s got to be illegal, recording your neighbours having sex. Actually, it must be illegal recording your neighbours full stop.’

Kirsty stepped in and took the receiver from him. ‘Jamie, if you get the police involved it will only make things worse. We’ve still got a chance to sort this out.’

‘But they won’t even answer the door to us.’

‘So let’s write them a letter. That’s obviously how they want to communicate.’

She opened a desk drawer and took out a writing pad and a pen. Then she sat on the sofa and chewed the end of the pen thoughtfully.

‘What are you going to put?’

‘I don’t know. You’ll have to help me. I haven’t written a letter on paper for years.’

Jamie sat beside her and, over the next hour, they composed a letter, Kirsty holding the pen because she had the neatest handwriting (Jamie had been using a keyboard to write everything for so long he had almost forgotten how to do joined-up writing), with Jamie looking over her shoulder, making suggestions.

Dear Lucy and Chris

We have to confess that we were surprised by your letter. We class ourselves as your friends, as well as your neighbours, and we would have thought that if you have a problem with the levels of noise (of whatever sort) coming from our flat you would have felt able to approach us in person. We could then discuss the situation as friends – and as adults.

As it is, the tone of your letter is very unpleasant, and we also find it difficult to express how unhappy we are that you recorded us. We insist that you delete the recording and destroy any physical copies you’ve made.

‘Should we state that if they don’t we’re going to go to a solicitor?’ said Jamie.

‘Jamie, you know what I think. I don’t think we should get too heavy – not yet anyway. I’m hoping we can sort this out among ourselves.’

‘Yes. You’re right.’

We will make sure that we don’t play music loudly, and will try to ensure that we don’t make any unnecessary, excessive noise. However, when you live in a flat you have to accept that you will experience a certain amount of noise from your neighbours, and you need to learn to tolerate this. For example, when you had your barbecue a fortnight ago we did not complain about the raucous laughter coming from your garden until late at night (or the smoke that came in through our back window).

We do hope that we can rebuild our relationship as neighbours, and live in harmony. We would like to discuss this, so feel free to visit us at any time.

Yours sincerely

Kirsty and Jamie

P.S. You may be interested to know that Paul is still in a coma following the accident. The doctors are unsure when – or even if – he will recover.

‘Are you sure we should include the bit about the barbecue?’ said Jamie.

Two weeks ago, Lucy and Chris and two other couples had stood in the Newtons’ back garden, eating burnt sausages and telling bad jokes loudly. Jamie and Kirsty hadn’t been at all disturbed by the event, although they both thought privately that it wasn’t right that Lucy and Chris were out there having what they clearly saw as fun, while Paul lay in a hospital bed, especially when Lucy and Chris hadn’t even asked how Paul was. Jamie was still outraged by this – almost as much as he was outraged by the letter and CD. He had insisted that Kirsty add the P.S. about Paul’s condition. He wanted the Newtons to be reminded that Paul existed.

Kirsty considered Jamie’s question about the barbecue. ‘I don’t see why not. We’re making a valid point about neighbourly tolerance. Maybe it will make them see things from our point of view.’

They both signed the letter and sealed it in an envelope. Then they went outside to post it, Kirsty waiting at the top of the steps while Jamie ran down to put it through their neighbours’ front door. The letter box closed with a loud thud and Jamie hurried back up the steps. Earlier, he would have been just about able to handle a confrontation. Now, though, he was tired,