Page 1 of Six Steps to Happiness
1
Ronnie checked the kitchen clock, realising she had just enough time to pour herself a glass of wine before her pizza delivery landed. She giggled as she decanted, raising the glass in a silent toast. Putting it to her lips, she savoured the taste with a smile, at the same time imagining the evening ahead. With a bit of luck, that night wasthenight.
Intent on drinking every drop, she didn’t bother putting the bottle back in the fridge. There was no point to-ing and fro-ing from one room to another when she didn’t have to. Instead, she took the bottle with her as she headed into the lounge and positioned herself in the window – a large bay that gave a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree outlook, the perfect vantage point, one of the lower windows open so she could also hear the van.
Keeping her attention on the street, anticipation bubbled inside of her. Looking first left and then right, Ronnie felt like a naughty teenager as she wondered where her delivery had gotten to. Having opted for a barbecue prawn and salsa verde pizza, straight from Bello Italiano’s gourmet range no less, its cost made it seem even more delicious. “Where are you?” she asked, her eagerness fast becoming impatience.
She took in the houses that made up Holme Lea Avenue while she waited. Within two mirroring rows of semi-detached properties, she and Nick had lived at number six throughout their married life. They’d bought it for a song, such was the state of it back then, and Ronnie couldn’t help but smile as she recalled the old blue bathroom suite, the various floral wallpaper designs and the accompanying patterned carpets, all of them migraine inducing. And the kitchen… How she ever dared cook in there was still a mystery.
Over the next few years, however, they’d lavished a lot of love and a serious amount of cash on the place, turning it room by room into a home they were both proud of. And unlike the neighbours who’d come and gone over the years, Ronnie couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Holme Lea Avenue was where she’d built a home, and raised a daughter. It was where Ronnie belonged.
She pondered residents past and present. Some she’d been saddened to see go, others she’d more than happily waved off. Ronnie felt her pulse quicken. Then there were those who refused to move no matter how hard the encouragement.
Her spirits lifted once more when she at last spotted the Bello Italianovehicle and, downing the contents of her wine glass, she excitedly topped it up again in readiness. She watched the driver pull up and check what she assumed to be a worksheet before getting out of the vehicle, pizza box in hand. “Let the fun commence,” Ronnie said, as the unsuspecting chap headed for the house next door.
“Hold it right there,” her neighbour, Gaye, called out, the woman’s voice loud and clear as she appeared to greet him.
Pizza man paused mid approach and glanced around, as if checking it was him she was talking to. “Excuse me?”
Watching them, Ronnie appreciated her behaviour was childish, but it gave her a sense of power in an otherwise uncontrollable situation. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried to do the mature thing; she’d knocked on Gaye’s door a few times hoping to discuss the matter. She’d even written a long heartfelt letter about why next door should move on to pastures new. But the longer she and her letter went ignored, the more Ronnie’s rage stewed and she had to let it out somehow. Not only that, after what Gaye had done, her own actions didn’t compare.
Ronnie sneered as she took in Gaye’s attire – grey linen trousers, a smart white shirt and long floaty cardigan, all finished off with clearly expensive jewellery. Moreover, unlike every other mere mortal on the planet, despite it being the end of the day, her hair was perfect, as if she’d just stepped out of a salon. Gaye appeared the picture of respectability.
Ronnie sniffed. “Funny how images can be deceiving.” She glanced down at her own clothing. Ronnie knew she looked like a sack of potatoes in comparison. “Still,” she said, returning her attention to Gaye, “at least I can wear my integrity with pride.”
Watching her neighbour turn on her charms, Ronnie rolled her eyes. “Here we go,” she said, at the same time recalling the number of delivery guys who’d already fallen for the woman’s over-the-top smile and pathetic lilt.
“I’m sorry, love,” Gaye said. “But I think you’ve had a wasted journey.”
Ronnie looked from her neighbour to pizza man and, narrowing her eyes as she took in his demeanour, she again dared to hope that that night wasthenight that Gaye would crack. Unlike his predecessors, pizza man appeared unimpressed by the woman’s charade; standing his ground, he seemed immune to her excuses. “Ha!” Ronnie said, delighting in the fact that Gaye’s act wasn’t infallible after all. “This is more like it.” Ronnie sipped on her wine as she continued to observe them. Gaye fluttering her lashes, pizza man failing to notice; it was the best entertainment Ronnie had had in years.
Pizza man thrust the box of barbecue prawn and salsa verde into Gaye’s hands before fixing her with a no-nonsense smile. “So, what will it be: cash, cheque or card?”
“Fantastic,” Ronnie said.
Gaye’s patience really began to slip. “But I don’t want it,” she replied, trying and failing to give the box back. “I didn’t ask for it.”
“Really? Because someone did.” Pizza man held out the receipt for her to inspect. “This is Holme Lea Avenue, isn’t it?”
Ronnie smirked. “You tell her.”
Gaye looked at the piece of paper. “Yes.”
“And this is number eight, is it not?” Pizza man pointed to Gaye’s house while Ronnie continued to snigger.
“Yes. But…”
“No buts, lady. And I don’t have all night.”
It was all Ronnie could do to stop herself cheering.
Gaye appeared lost for words as she stared at the chap in front of her.
“Not so clevernow,are you?” Ronnie wondered which card her neighbour would play. Would she grit her teeth and hand over the cash? Or tell pizza man what was really going on? Either way, Ronnie wasn’t budging until a decision was made and neither, it seemed, was pizza man.
Gaye clearly struggled to control her outrage as she took another look at the receipt, her eyes widening as they rested on the amount due. “How much?” she asked, her voice rising a couple more octaves.
A burst of laughter shot out of Ronnie’s mouth and, mid-sip, so did a spray of wine.
