‘So, Peggy,’ I said, ‘how long have you lived in Maitland Road, then?’
She arranged biscuits on a plate. ‘Nearly twenty-seven years.’
‘You were here as a child, then?’
‘No!’ Her pink cheeks became pinker. ‘You’re teasing me. No, we bought this house just after we got married. It was different then. My husband says we should move. He doesn’t like the way it’s going.’
‘What way is that?’
‘The kind of people who live round here.’
‘Do you want to move?’
‘I don’t know. I like the house.’
‘It’s lovely.’
‘But I don’t really feel I belong here. We’re not like the other people on the road. Here, do you take milk?’
‘Just a bit. No sugar. What do you mean, the other people?’
‘Well, your house, for instance. Everyone in it is so…’ She hesitated.
‘Go on.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘They’re the sort of people who come for a bit,’ she said, ‘and then go. Move on. Not like real neighbours. That what the road’s like.’
‘I think I know how you feel,’ I said.
‘Do you?’
‘The thing is, Peggy, I’ve only been in London a short while. I grew up in a small village, where everyone knew everyone else and looked out for each other. It was a real community. If someone was in trouble, they would be helped. If someone did wrong, they would be discovered. That’s just the way it was there. And since Mum died -’ I stopped abruptly.
‘Yes?’ she probed softly.
‘I don’t usually talk about it. My father died when I was little, I can hardly remember him now, and a few months ago my mother died of cancer. She’d been ill for a very long time and I stayed there so I could look after her and be with her. I was her only child. She didn’t have anyone else.’ I looked into Peggy’s eyes. ‘Neither did I.’
‘You poor thing.’
‘I’m all right, really. Just a bit sad still. These things take time. Maybe I’m telling you all of this because you remind me of her.’
‘Do I?’
‘In a way. Do you have children, Peggy?’
‘No. It didn’t happen,’ she said simply.
‘I’m sorry. That must have been hard.’
‘It’s a long time ago now.’
‘Of course.’
We sat drinking our coffee. I ate two biscuits, at her insistence, and she told me which shops to use and which to avoid. There were five cards standing on the window-sill and in a pause I asked her when her birthday was.
‘Two days ago. I don’t really make any fuss about it nowadays. It’s not something you want to remember.’
‘Two days ago. You mean last Thursday?’
‘Yes.’
‘But that’s my birthday too.’
‘No! What an extraordinary coincidence.’
‘Amazing,’ I said. ‘We must have been fated to meet.’
I told myself to make a note of the date of last Thursday before I forgot it and slipped up. Peggy excused herself and left the kitchen. I waited a few seconds, and when I heard her going up the stairs, I leaned forward and pulled her bag towards me. There were several notes folded in her wallet. I took out a ten, then pushed the bag back where it had been. After all, I was out of pocket with all the wine I’d been buying for the house, and I could spend a small part of the money on the Basmati rice I’d promised her. That would please her.
That Saturday night, the house was almost empty. Pippa wasn’t there when I returned, and I met Astrid coming down the stairs as I went up, obviously on her way somewhere. It was the first time I had seen her wearing a dress: a short, simple red silk shift. With her long golden legs and slim tanned arms, her dark hair brushed back and her lips painted scarlet, she looked astonishing. I tried not to stare at her, but my chest felt uncomfortably tight.
‘Hi, Davy, how’s it going?’ she asked.
‘Fine,’ I replied. ‘I’m glad to be here.’
‘We’re glad to have you. I’ll see you later, then.’
‘Maybe we can have coffee together tomorrow?’
‘Sure,’ she said lightly.
And so, with a backward wave, she was gone. I was beginning to get the hang of the people in this house. You couldn’t be too earnest or oppressive. People here were free in a way I hadn’t come across before.
Miles was out as well, and Owen – though not with Astrid, I was glad to know. That left only Dario – who was lying in a stoned stupor in the basement kitchen – and Mick, who was in his room with the door shut and probably locked. I decided to risk it.
I started with Miles’s room. It was the best in the house by far and it annoyed me that he had done so little to make the most of it. The large bay windows looked out on to the street, and one side of the room was entirely lined with a large cupboard. I pulled open one of the doors and peered inside. As well as towels and sheets, there were several cardboard boxes, filled with old music magazines, academic quarterlies, Ordnance Survey maps and files, which, on further scrutiny, turned out to be full of bills and letters. I didn’t have time to read any now, but I promised myself I would later. I closed the cupboards and turned my attention to the rest of the room. There were no real surprises. The wardrobe contained suits and shirts, all of which looked quite expensive. I pulled open the drawers of the chest and found nothing interesting except a pack of condoms among the underwear. Time to move on.
I went quietly into Pippa’s room, stepping over the mess and trying not to disturb it. You’d think it would be impossible for her to notice any changes, but even chaos like this had its own order. I saw a bottle of nail varnish standing on the floor, and then I remembered her, sitting in the bed, breasts half uncovered and an amused smile on her face. I unscrewed the top and tipped it over with my foot so it spread over a delicate shirt. I found several pairs of tights and dragged my fingernails down them to create ladders. I spat into a little pot of lip balm. There.
I went up the stairs as quietly as I could, so that Mick didn’t hear me, and opened the door to Astrid’s room. For a few seconds I just stood in the centre, relishing the quiet of her space. It occurred to me that her room was the twin of mine, which was on the floor above and also looked over the street. But this one was freshly painted, and it smelled of coconut, citrus fruit and lavender. I took the few steps to where her toiletries stood on a shelf and sniffed them in turn, learning them. It was clean, tidy and peaceful, just as I like rooms to be. I flicked through the clothes hanging in her wardrobe. There weren’t many – Pippa probably owned ten times more – but I liked what there was. Nothing frilly or fussy, nothing shoddily made. I put my face among the hanging folds and breathed in her scent. Then I turned to the chest, opening each drawer in turn and rummaging through the contents. I put a pair of black knickers in my pocket. She had very little makeup. I took one lip-gloss.
I thought I heard a sound coming from Mick’s room above, so I went out and stood in the hallway, listening. Nothing. I pushed open the door to Owen’s room and stood at its threshold. Photographs were stacked against every wall, some with their backs turned to me but others in plain view. Women’s faces in four-colour black stared sightlessly at me and suddenly my limbs were heavy and my skin prickled. It was starting in my head. I was under water, with things wavering around me, not holding their proper shape.