I think we have a new resident on our landing, Laura said casually.
Mark reached for the shortbread tin, but his hand stopped mid-air.
What do you mean, new? Someone just moved in?
Opposite us. Blonde. Her names Felicity, Laura replied.
She took a sip of her tea, watching her husbands reaction. He shrugged, a man whose thoughts had just been interrupted: dreams of a hot dinner replaced by trivial gossip.
So? People move in all the time.
Laura set her cup down, a touch louder than she meant. Tea sloshed over the rim.
…For the first few weeks, everything was normal. Laura spotted her new neighbour in the hallway; they exchanged polite nods and wafer-thin smiles. Felicity seemed a pleasant young womanwell-groomed, lively, with a head of golden curls and a peal of laughter that carried down the corridor. Nothing out of the ordinary.
But then, things changed.
Shes acting rather oddly, Laura continued, twisting the corner of the kitchen towel round her finger. She always seems to be around. Especially when you leave the flat.
Mark snorted.
We share a landing, Laura. Its only natural we bump into her.
Every morning? Every single evening? Bang on the dot when you leave for work or come home?
Laura recalled last week: catching Felicity by the lift, studying the maintenance companys hours on the noticeboard as if deciphering the meaning of life itself. Yet, as soon as Mark opened the door, that schedule lost all allure. Felicity spun round and flashed him a smile that made something inside Laura ache.
Oh, Mark! Just the man! My taps leaking, and I cant get a plumberworking late, you know. Could you have a look?
Mark, obliging as ever, did. An hour later, he returned with the air of someone whod been tasked to slay dragons.
It was just a washer, he reported. Ive replaced it.
Three days later, Felicitys sofa got stuck in the doorway. By the end of the week, the lock wouldnt budge. Then, ten days later, something was ticking in her fuse box.
Shes laying in wait for you, Laura said quietly, looking her husband straight in the eyes. On purpose.
Mark pinched the bridge of his nose.
Come off it, Laura. The womans alone. No one to help her. What am I supposed to do, refuse?
Laura could have mentioned the hairthe way Felicity tossed her golden mane whenever Mark entered the hall, flicking strands off her shoulder like she was in some shampoo advert. Or the plunging necklinesbold, daring. But Laura stopped herself. Mark would just laugh it off.
And then, the visits began in earnest.
The first time, Felicity showed up with a pie. She hovered at the doorstep, pink-cheeked and beaming, holding out a plate of apple crumble.
Fresh from the oven! Far too much for me. Please, take some!
Laura accepted the pie, though a wave of nausea hitnot from the food, but from the sickly sweet smile.
Three days later, Felicity was back, asking about broadband providers.
Mark, could you tell me about your internet deal? My Wi-Fis collapsing every night
She breezed into the lounge before anyone invited her, sitting not in the armchair or even on the edge of the settee, but right beside Mark. So close their knees nearly touched. She kept up a stream of chatter, laughing a little too enthusiastically, tilting her head back to display her long, white throat.
And always there was touchingher hand on his arm. Really? Oh, you clever thing! A brush of fingers. I had no idea! Another fleeting touch.
Laura sat across from them, watching the amateur dramatics unfold. Her own hands clenched until her nails drew half-moons in her palms.
And Mark? He smiled his mild, genial smile, joked, let it all slide. No boundaries. No Sorry, Im married. Not even a gentle, Perhaps you should get a professional.
Do you realise what shes doing? Laura asked when Felicity finally left.
Who? Felicity? What is she up to?
Laura rolled her eyes.
Shes throwing herself at you. Blatantly. Shamelessly.
Mark laughed.
Laura, youre being dramatic. Shes just a friendly neighbour.
Friendly? She all but sat in your lap!
Youre exaggerating.
Tension pulsed through their little flat, like lightning before a storm. Laura tried to hint, to explain, but Mark would wave it away. Male naivety, or deliberate blindnessLaura couldnt tell any more.
Still, Felicitys visits continued. She called for salt in the evenings, for DIY advice in the morning, or just to have a natter in the afternoon. She always appeared precisely when Laura popped to Sainsburys or went to visit her mum. Coincidence? Laura had long stopped believing in those.
One evening, Laura came home earlier than usual and found Felicity in their kitchen.
Oh, Laura! she crooned. I just popped in, my routers playing up again
Laura said nothing. She simply took the cup from Felicitys hand, tipped the dregs down the sink, and placed it in the dish rack, pointedly.
Felicity left within five minutes. But the next day, she returned.
This evening was no different. Mark had just come in from work, and Laura was reciting her observations when the doorbell rang.
Felicity was standing on the step.
Laura surveyed her, barely disguising a grimace. The tight, crimson dress clung to Felicitys figure like a second skin. The neckline plunged so deeply it might have been designed for a nightclub, not a neighbourly call. Her lips were scarlet, her lashes flutteringshe looked ready for a magazine photoshoot, not for the flats at 24 Richmond Close. In her hand: a bottle of wine, label glinting gold.
Evening! Felicity purred. Is Mark in?
Her gaze flicked past Laura, hunting for the man of the house. Something predatory sparked in her eyes, her intentions brazenly unmasked.
Laura blocked the doorway. Marks footsteps sounded behind herhe emerged, curious.
Oh, Felicity! he smiled, good-natured as ever. Everything all right?
Felicity tilted the bottle.
Just thought you might fancy some decent wine. A thank you for helping with my tap the other week.
Laura didnt move, assessing the scene in a heartbeat. Enough. How much more of this circus could she take?
She stepped forward, nudging Felicity back out of the doorway. Felicity stumbled, unprepared for the resistance. The wine bottle swung precariously.
We dont want to see you here any more.
Lauras voice was quiet. No outburst. No drama. Just cold, chiselled steel.
Felicitys mouth dropped openperhaps to protest, perhaps to play the wronged ingénue. Laura gave her no chance. The door shut, firm, in her face.
Silence.
Mark stood in the hallway, looking as though hed just been hit over the head with a sack of potatoes.
Laura, what was that about
Me? Laura turned to him. Im protecting our family, while you just grin at everyone.
Mark scratched his head.
But she only wanted to
She wanted you. Dont act like you dont see it.
They stared at each other. Laura breathing hard, the adrenaline still fizzing in her blood. Mark said nothing; he seemed to chew over the moment.
Then, at last, he noddedslowly, thoughtfully.
All right. Maybe youre right.
Not an apology. Not an admission of total blindness. But enough, for now.
Felicity vanished. Gone, like morning mist. No more awkward meetings by the lift, no more leaky taps or ticking fuse boxes. The door across the hall stayed shut. Laura walked past it each time with a small, secret stab of satisfaction.
A week passed, blissfully peaceful. Laura almost forgot the blonde behind the wall.
But then, the stares began.
At first, Laura blamed herself: just paranoia. But nothe neighbours really were whispering behind her back. Helen from the fifth floor pursed her lips and turned away at the letterboxes. Victor from downstairs, usually chatty and cheerful, mumbled something inaudible and scuttled into his own flat.
The mystery unravelled a few days later. Laura bumped into Helen at Tescono escape. Helen couldnt resist.
I heard you upset poor Felicity, she drawled, giving Laura a look of thinly disguised reproach. Such a lovely girl, and you slammed the door in her face Victor says she was in tears on the stairs after.
Laura almost laughed.
Really? She cried?
Absolutely! Apparently she only wanted to welcome you, and you Helen trailed off dramatically.
Welcome me? In a dress up to here and a bottle of wine in hand? Very neighbourly.
Helen fell silent, taking it in. Laura popped the barley into her trolley and moved away towards the checkouts, leaving the gossip-monger digesting the new information.
The rumours crept through the block, growing arms and legs. Laura was cast as the wicked witch, Mark as her henpecked husband, and Felicity as the innocent, wronged party. Predictable as sunrise.
But Laura no longer cared.
That evening, she sat in the kitchen, stirring tea in the same cup shed taken from Felicity. Mark trawled his phone, occasionally snorting.
Victor just slagged us off on the residents WhatsApp, he said, eyes not leaving the screen. Called us anti-social. Three old ladies added crying face emojis.
Laura snorted, then laughedfreer than she had in a month.
Let them write what they want. Let them use all the emojis. I dont give a toss.
Mark put the phone down and really looked at her.
You know, I only just realised how stupid I was acting.
Oh, did you?
Seriously, Laura. She waswell, you know what she was doing. Meanwhile, I kept saying shes just friendly.
Laura reached across the table, covering his hand with her own.
As long as you know now.
No doubt Felicity was already prowling for her next target, a new puppet for her games. Laura didnt care.
Shed fought for her family. For her husband.
As for the gossipwell, that would fade in a month, replaced by some new scandal, a fresh drama. Thats just life in a block of flats.
Her tea had gone cold, but Laura drank it to the last drop. For once, her heart was completely at peace.
