Page 5 of Emma and the Elf Next Door

“There it is.”

The other side of the wall has gone quiet. I hold my breath, waiting for the sad sobs to penetrate my space and am relieved when there’s nothing. Maybe she’s on the mend. Maybe this willbe the last time I have to hear about ‘love actually being all around’.

“Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport…”

What. Is. This?

She’s not watching it again, is she?

I stop pacing and listen closely, sure my mind is playing tricks on me. Am I imagining Hugh Grant’s opening monologue about the joy of being at an airport?

“…General opinion is starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere…”

Oh my gosh. Sheisstarting it again. That’s why there’s no crying from her side of the wall; she’s self-soothing by watching this terrible—truly terrible—movie again!

“I can’t do this.”

Grunting, I slam out of my kitchen, shut myself in the bathroom, the room farthest away from the wall, and sit on the closed lid of the toilet to strategise.

“I can’t live like this,” I groan to my reflection. “I moved in here—by myself, with no roommates—to avoid this sort of situation. Having to live with other people being messy and noisy and darn right weird; it’s not for me. I’m all about the simple life.”

My bloodshot, tired eyes in the mirror agree with me. I can’t keep listening to this same movie, night after night. It’s making me cranky and loopy. How has she—crazy, neighbour lady—not gone batty after watching it so many nights in a row?

“I need to do something.”

Standing up, I tap on the Google search bar on my phone and start typing in desperation.

How to silence a noisy neighbour?

The responses are creepy and somewhat frightening. Moving on.

How to help the heartbroken?

Ah, too much work.

Other holiday movies for sad women?

Now this may be useful.

I stare at the screen in front of me, a list of movies to cheer up the heartbroken during the festive season. At the top of course isLove, Actually,but underneath is a plethora of movies. Enough to fill the next week, at least.Why isn’t she watching any of these? Does she not know they exist?

I feel a sense of optimism. Maybe if she’s aware thatLove Actuallyis not the only movie to get her through her holiday heartbreak slump, she may give something else a chance? A few different something elses, and then I won’t have to listen to this movie on repeat night after night.

“This may work.”

My reflection nods back at me, and with a sense of renewed purpose, I take out a notepad and jot down a list of movies for my neighbour and wall-sharer to indulge in over the holiday period. I start withThe Holiday—a dreadful-looking movie with Cameron Diaz and Jude Law. It’s got Christmas thrown up all over the cover. She’s going to love it.

After that, I addLast ChristmasandBridget Jones’ Diary(not sure if it’s a real Christmas movie, but it’s got a festive vibe). According to my Google-found blog,When Harry Met Sallyis the perfect holiday movie, so I add that to the list, along withSerendipityandFour Holidays. In a flash of inspiration, I Google ‘female revenge movies’ and add a few of those, in case she’s in the mood to get over the ex-boyfriend, rather than wallow, and by the end I have a healthy list to help my neighbour navigate at least the next week.

With another flash of inspiration, I fill a box with some of my freshly baked Christmas cookies and grab a bottle of wine from my wine wrack. I tear a piece of tape from the tape dispenser and stick the list to the bottle of wine. My thinking is that the treats will help soften whatever offence she may take to my movie suggestions—we have to live next to each other, after all—and that she may be more open to giving one of them a try.

Please God, please let her give one of these movies a try.

Tip-toeing out of my front door, I jog to hers and place my offerings in front of her door, and then with a small sense of satisfaction, I return to my home, snuggling into my bed with the sounds ofLove Actuallyfloating into my subconscious as I wish for sleep.

Only a few hours until a new day. And hopefully, dear neighbour, a new movie as well.

CHAPTER 3

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