And then there was the radio and the singing. Fit Bit Jed loved a bit of Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel. Thank God she was moving soon otherwise there might actually be a real murder, not one of the imaginary kind like in the manuscript she was currently editing. It had to be with the publisher by the end of the week and she was so close to finishing. Then a few days off were on the cards. Not that Frankie needed permission or an excuse to give herself a holiday, such was the joy of being a self-employed editor who had the luxury of working from home.
Her attention was drawn to the calendar on her desk, an old school flip-over type that had big boxes, perfect for writing a note in or circling with red marker pen for important dates. The 30thJune was definitely special and not only did it have a capital F, it was encompassed by two swirly circles and three exclamation marks denoting something very important, a life-changing, leap of faith move: the day she emigrated to France.
At least there, in her new home in the peaceful countryside there wouldn’t be any annoying little monsters like Connor. It was at this point she realised the clacking noise had stopped and had been replaced by a bell ringing. From her vantage point in the small office-cum-box-room, she peered down onto the neighbours’ driveway below to check what Devilchild was up to.
One of Connor’s friends was waiting on the street, and ringing his bike bell while Devilchild, obviously eager to go and play, was squeezing down the side of his mum’s car. Meanwhile, Spud manoeuvred his wheelbarrow along the path on the other side. Frankie thought no more of it and was just glad Connor was off to annoy someone else so, power drills and saws permitting, she could put the manuscript to bed by the end of the day.
* * *
The advantage of living on the second floor of a huge converted Victorian house, apart from the big open windows that let in natural light and high ceilings with original features, was that Frankie felt extremely safe. At night when she locked the door she took great comfort in knowing that there was only one way into her home, and that was always bolted top and bottom and unless someone with a very long ladder, or Spiderman, tried to break in, she could sleep soundly.
The downside was not having her own garden so she had to share the communal one round the back, and unless you got there early the washing lines could be full. Consequently, the following morning when she made her way to the garden, washing basket tucked under her arm, she overheard the massive row taking place on the other side of the fence between the builders and Mr and Mrs Devilchild.
Frankie didn’t want to be seen by Fit Bit Jed or anyone because she was wearing two-sleeps pyjama bottoms with baggy knees, and a jam-blobbed vest top. Along with her strawberry blonde hair scraped into a messy ponytail and zero make-up, it wasn’t a good look.
Ken the builder was standing in between Jed and their very irate client, trying to get a word in edgeways and, from the looks of it, prevent a punch-up.
‘Now listen, mate, I’m telling you now, none of us have scratched your car. Maybe it happened when your wife went to the supermarket and she’s only just noticed.’
Nosiness got the better of Frankie as she shuffled past, resting her basket on her hip, taking a furtive look at the car which was now facing the other way on the drive. The scratch was visible, quite long, and she realised itcouldhave been caused by Connor’s handlebars the previous day. Before Frankie could speak up, Mrs Devilchild had her ten-penn’orth.
‘Don’t you dare insinuate it was me when you know full well it was him.’ She pointed her manicured finger at Spud. ‘He was in and out all day with that wheelbarrow and not watching what he was doing, I’ll bet.’
Spud looked aghast. ‘No way was it me. Your car was the other way round and I couldn’t get down that side. Uncle Ken’s right: it was probably a shopping trolley or you’re just a shit driver and you want to pin it on me.’
Frankie couldn’t help but snigger at that, and then all hell broke loose. Mr Devilchild went for Spud so Jed gripped Mr D by the shirt and pinned him against the wall while the wife screamed she was calling the police, which is when Frankie knew she had to step in.
‘Excuse me.’ Nobody heard so she raised her voice a couple of notches. ‘I said, excuse me.’
Everyone turned and stared but at least the shouting had stopped.
‘Look, I don’t want to poke my nose in, but I know how your car got scratched. It was your lad that did it with his bike. I saw him from my window when he squeezed in between the car and the fence. It hasn’t got anything to do with him.’ Frankie pointed at Spud.
On hearing this Jed smirked and released his captive, who smoothed down his wrinkled shirt and straightened his skew-whiff tie.
‘See, I told you.’ Spud folded his arms and looked affronted while Ken stepped in and tried to defuse the situation.
‘Right then, that’s that little mystery solved.’ Turning to Frankie he smiled and gave her the thumbs-up. ‘Thanks for straightening that out, love, appreciated.’
Frankie nodded. ‘My pleasure. I’d hate to see someone be wrongly accused. Glad I could help.’ And with that she turned to make her way to the back garden and as she did caught the glare from Mrs Devilchild.
It was later that day, as she was returning from a stroll to the shops that she noticed Jed sitting on the back of the pick-up, checking his phone and having a brew. He looked up as she approached and treated Frankie to a beaming smile. ‘Here she is, our heroine. Thanks again for this morning. It was looking like we’d end up getting sued. Either that or he’d have refused to settle up until the scratch was sorted. I’ve met his type before and they’ll do owt to get off paying.’
Frankie rested her shopping on the floor: the handles were digging into her fingers. ‘Oh no, that’s awful. Well, I’m glad I said something now. Is the atmosphere a bit cringey in there?’
‘Put it this way: we won’t be getting a bonus when we leave.’ Jed smirked.
Frankie wasn’t surprised by this at all because her neighbours didn’t look like the tipping kind. ‘Well at least tell me Connor got in trouble: that kid drives me round the bend.’
‘Oh, I know, he’s a little shit. He gives us the middle finger when his mum’s not looking and I caught him peeing in the concrete mixer the other day. Dad said to ignore him, it’s not worth the hassle. After this morning’s performance I think he’s right. We’re going to get the job done, get paid, then clear off.’
Frankie felt a bit put-out on hearing this, which was stupid because it was the first time in two weeks they’d even spoke. Shyness had got the better of her, while perving from the bathroom window came easily. ‘So when will you be done then?’
‘Tomorrow, all being well. I don’t envy you living next door to that lot, though. Do you work from home? I’ve noticed you’re here all day. And I’m Jed by the way.’
Frankie felt ridiculously pleased that he’d noticed, so while she answered took the opportunity to check him out close up. ‘Hi, Jed, and I’m Frankie and for my sins I’m an editor so I can work from wherever I park my laptop.’
Jed raised his eyebrows. ‘An editor, eh? I’ve never met one of those before which is why I think I should definitely take you for a drink, to say thanks for today obviously and, so you can tell me all about what you do. Or, if you fancy it, we can go for something to eat. What do you say? It’s the least I can do.’
