Page 40 of Six Steps to Happiness
She watched the man squirm. He clearly wasn’t used to being silenced.
“I mean on the one hand, I’m vindictive. I’m somehow sneaking into next door’s house with the sole intent of causing mayhem. Yet on the other, I’m a walkover. An easy target.” She let out a laugh. “That’s not only a contradiction, Mr Wright, that’s sheer stupidity.”
Ronnie watched the colour drain from his face. “So, feel free to tell next door what you think I’ve been up to. March Mrs Wright over there right now, if you must. Because I defy anyone to try to prove it. And besides, proof or no proof, I think you’ll find I’m the one who’ll get the sympathy. You said it yourself, jilted wife and all that. Of course, that’s when I’ll add my little story into the mix. The one about the kindly old neighbour who, beneath that gentlemanly façade, turns out to be anything but. A man who preys on susceptible women for a bit of you know what.” Her tone turned mocking. “Naturally, a man like thatwouldinvent tales and spread malicious lies if he doesn’t get what he wants, wouldn’t he?”
She watched Mr Wright turn grey, but Ronnie wasn’t done with him yet. “And we both know how the neighbours on this street operate. They love a good gossip. But tittle-tattle is one thing, living next door to a pervert… well, we both know that could lead to a lot more than talk.” Ronnie drank a mouthful of tea, enjoying the sense of satisfaction she suddenly felt. “Of course, it’s Mrs Wright I feel sorry for. I mean, the shame if it ever got out.”
Ronnie put a false smile on her face and rose to her feet. “Now, I think it’s time you left. Don’t you?”
29
Ronnie leant against the kitchen counter, with Mr Wright’s visit still heavy on her mind. He might have heeded her warning and kept shtum over her visits into number eight, but that didn’t make Ronnie feel any less angry. She shuddered, her skin continuing to crawl at the thought of his intentions. She couldn’t report him to the police and she didn’t have anyone to talk to about it, a problem halved being a problem shared and all that. Confiding would mean divulging what she’d been up to, leaving her in a no-win situation. Ronnie sighed. It seemed Mr Wright’s secret was as safe as her own.
Realising things in the garden had gone a little too quiet, Ronnie cocked her head. Her eyes narrowed; she didn’t have to guess what that dog of hers was up to. “Not again, Charlie,” she said, stepping out through the back door. As he bounded towards her, Ronnie looked down at the dog’s muddy nose and dirt sodden feet. “Carry on like this and you’ll end up in Australia.”
She turned her gaze to the Limelight Hydrangea in the far corner. One of the reasons she’d planted it was because it was robust and called for little by way of care. With its soil kept moist, it had done a good job of looking after itself over the years. Although thanks to Charlie, that robustness was being sorely tested. Having grown to about eight feet tall and goodness knew how wide, whatever was living in there, it seemed the yellow Lab was determined to evict it. Every time Ronnie let Charlie into the garden, he’d disappear inside the hydrangea’s thick green foliage, digging and scratting like his life depended on it. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, forced to acknowledge the inevitable. As much as Ronnie loved its white bulbous flowers, the time had come to cut it back.
Glancing around the whole of her outdoor space, Ronnie had to admit that with everything going on of late, the flora and fauna had been utterly neglected. The bit of lawn she had needed a good mowing, the containers needed planting up, and the pathways could have done with a top up of gravel. “And you’re certainly not helping matters,” she said, once again taking in Charlie’s dirty feet. She ruffled the top of his head. “Come on. You know the drill.”
Ronnie grabbed the hosepipe that lay slung beneath the outdoor tap sticking out of the kitchen’s exterior wall. Cleaning Charlie’s paws had become such a regular occurrence, she’d given up on painstakingly coiling the metres and metres of green tubing around its stand.
“There you are,” Willow said, suddenly appearing at the door.
About to start washing Charlie’s feet, Ronnie looked up, surprised.
Willow immediately gave the dog a fuss. “I wondered where you’d both got to.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Ronnie said, putting the pipe back down to give her daughter a hug.
“I haven’t come to see you,” Willow replied. “I’m here for Charlie. I thought he might like to go for a walk.”
Tempted to ask if her daughter was feeling okay, Ronnie narrowed her eyes, suspicious. There had to be an ulterior motive. After all, Willow hadn’t only inherited Ronnie’s looks, she’d inherited her dislike for all things exercise. “You? Walking?”
“Yes, me,” her daughter said, her face serious.
Ronnie still wasn’t buying it. “You, the woman who drives everywhere? The woman who thinks having no car is the same as having no legs?”
Willow laughed. “I’d have said the same about you until Charlie came along. Let’s just say that I, too, have re-evaluated.”
Ronnie raised an eyebrow. Whatever her daughter was up to, it had nothing to do with getting fit or spending time with their new family member.
“Oh, all right,” Willow said, crumpling under her mother’s gaze. “There’s this gorgeous guy who walks his dog in the local park. And we know how everyone loves this handsome chap?” Again, she rubbed Charlie’s head. “So I thought…”
“What? My dog can sidle up to Penny the poodle, so you can do the same with Mr Whateverhisnameis?” Ronnie laughed, half amused and half affronted. “Since when did Charlie turn into your wingman?”
“When you put it like that.”
“How else am I supposed to put it?”
Willow sat down on the doorstep, her expression all at once teasing. “I suppose I could always stay here and keep you company. We can talk about PC Whateverhisnameis instead, if you prefer?”
Ronnie preferred nothing of the sort.
“Which reminds me, have you rung him yet? Although I can’t say I’m pleased that he’s allowed to walk your dog when I’m not.”
Ronnie ignored her daughter’s wittering in favour of getting on with washing Charlie’s paws. She picked up the hosepipe again, ready to get started.
“Mum, I know what you’re doing.”
