The Neighbours: A gripping, addictive novel with a twist that will leave you breathless. Hannah McKinnon Mary
umbrella into the copper stand. He slid out her chair, helped her sit down, and as he said something to her, she chuckled and covered her mouth with her pale, slim fingers.
I walked over to their table. “Good afternoon,” I said with a smile.
“Good afternoon to you, young lady.” The man’s blue eyes were bloodshot and watery, but surrounded by laughter lines that could tell a thousand tales.
“Can I get you some coffee, or tea?”
“Two cups of tea, please, love,” the woman answered softly as she set her purple knitted beret on the chair next to her and patted her gray curls back into place. “And two sticky buns if you have any. Our George gets grumpy if he doesn’t have his sticky bun.”
I grinned. “Well, we can’t have that now, can we? Two teas and sticky buns it is. Back in a sec.” As I turned I noticed how they’d reached for each other across the table, their worn fingers already entwined. Six months ago I would’ve demanded Tom pass me the sick bucket. Now all I saw was Liam and me in sixty years. It was crazily weird. Wonderfully, crazily weird. As if he’d found a treasure chest of feelings buried so deep in my heart, even I hadn’t known it was there.
After I’d brought the couple’s order over to them I returned to the bar from where Tom eyed me with a barely concealed grin as he licked his spoon. “I saw how you looked at them,” he said.
I popped some dirty cups in the sink. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, right. You’re going all mushy... Anyway, how are things with Liam?”
“Great. He’s busy with work. The bank’s given him more responsibility already.”
“Has he told them about losing his license?”
“Yeah. He didn’t have much choice seeing as he’s supposed to travel to the different branches. God, he was so worried and—”
“No kidding. I still can’t believe how much over the speed limit he was, he—”
I waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, they didn’t give him that much grief in the end. Obviously it can’t happen again, but they still think he’s amazingly talented.” Ugh. I was gushing. I cleared my throat. “How’s Sophia?”
He waggled a finger. “Oh, no, don’t change the subject. Have you asked him yet?”
“No. I don’t want to spook him.”
“Pah, pah, pah.” Tom put up his hands. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but—”
“And you’re practically living together anyway. He hates his flatmates. He’ll never live with his parents again—”
“Not likely. I’ve never met such bigots. If you live south of the river they think you’re a foreigner.”
“Well, then,” Tom said. “It’s simple. Ask him to move in. Think of the money you’ll save.”
“Sounds like you want to move in with him.”
Tom flicked his spoon at me and I ducked, narrowly avoiding a well-aimed chocolaty milk blob that splattered on the floor. “I wish I could move out, believe me,” he said. “And as soon as I’ve finished this bloody economics degree, I will. Until then...”
“You get to live with the Wicked Witch of the East.” I grinned, wiping up his deliberate spill with a piece of kitchen paper.
Tom laughed. “Mum’s not that bad.”
“Not to you, she isn’t.” My smile disappeared. “She hates me.”
“Knock it off. She doesn’t hate you.”
“Yes she does.” I took a breath. “Because I remind her of Dad.”
Tom pulled a face. “You’ve said that before. But if it was true, she’d hate, uh, I mean she wouldn’t get along with me. I’m the guy. I must remind her way more of Dad than you do.”
“I don’t think gender has anything to do with it.” I paused. “I’m pretty sure I have his mannerisms, you know? Facial expressions, gestures, that kind of thing. At least that’s what Mum accused me of.” I plopped a tea bag into a mug. “But I’m not like him. I’ve never been unfaithful. I wouldn’t cheat on Liam. I don’t have a gambling habit. And I’d definitely never walk out on my partner.” I sighed. “I love Liam.”
He grinned. “Told you. You’re going all mushy.”
“I’m being serious. I mean I really love him. And it scares the hell out of me.”
“Why?”
I threw up my hands. “Why not? What if this is another relationship I mess up? I don’t want that to happen... I’d do anything for him, Tommy. Anything.”
Tom tut-tutted and rolled his eyes. “Except ask him to move in with you.”
I flicked him with my dishcloth. “We’ve not even been going out six months. Anyway... How is Sophia? And I mean really.” He pulled a face and I raised my eyebrows. “Arguing again?”
“Yeah.”
“So she’s still possessive, paranoid and, well, a bit odd?”
“Sounds about right.” Tom laughed.
I flung my hands into the air again. “Why do you bother? You hate conflict.”
“Well, that’s not surprising, is it?” Tom put a hand over his heart. “My poor soul’s been badly traumatized by all the fights you and Mum had.”
“And that’s exactly why I moved out. Five years later and I can still hear her shouting at me.” I nudged Tom with my elbow. “But Mum loves you, so her heart’s only half made of stone. Or maybe it’s two sizes too small.” Tom didn’t grin like I thought he would, so I added, “Like the Grinch who stole Christmas. Dad used to read us that book. Remember?”
He kept his eyes downcast and his shoulders hunched, looking like an abandoned puppy standing in the rain waiting to be let inside. “I wish I remembered him,” he said quietly. “Properly, I mean. I wish we knew where he was.”
“I know. So do I.”
I shook my head as I recalled the day my father had walked out, which had been ordinary in every other way. Everything about that day was still vivid, almost as if someone had etched it all, right down to the tiniest detail, permanently in my mind. A definitive marker of the day everything changed.
It happened during the school holidays, a few weeks after Tom’s ninth—my tenth—birthday. It seemed “Upside Down” by Diana Ross was on a constant loop on the radio, and I knew all the words by heart, singing them as loud as I could at every opportunity.
“Stop singing that!” Tom had moaned the day before, flicking me on the back of the neck each time I broke into the chorus. But it was one of those earworms you couldn’t get out of your head. Even walking around the house, humming The Muppets tune didn’t help. Although—and this delighted me—I noticed Tom couldn’t stop humming that now, which was payback for flicking me in the first place.
The boy I liked sat on the park swings with me the day Dad left. Derek Stokes stood barely taller than me despite being almost two years older. But he had big, emerald green eyes and the cutest half-moon dimples I’d ever seen. I greedily snatched up any and every glance he threw my way, storing them so deep in my memory, I could still recall them over a decade later. Derek really did turn me inside out, and made all my feelings go around and around.
Even my recollection of the weather was clear. I could almost feel the drizzle that had softly fallen on my cheeks as Tom and I walked home from the park. See the billowing clouds that hung around in the air until the evening, when, finally, the sun broke through. Whenever that happened I thought it meant good things