Page 24 of The World Outside My Window

Carol tuts. She hates it when Arthur’s right. He’s always so insufferably smug about it. And if he thinks by putting his hand over his face she can’t see him laughing at her, then he has another think coming.

‘Okay, then, maybe I’ll do just that.’ She stands again and checks her reflection in the mirror. There’s lipstick smudged on her teeth so she wipes it off with the sleeve of her cardigan and smooths her hair down. It springs straight back up again. She’s just about to march out of the room in a decisive fashion – making sure she shuts the front door nice and firmly so that Arthur knows she’s gone to do exactly what she’d said she was going to do – when the doorbell peals through the room. Carol jumps so much she almost hits her head on the standard lamp and she sees Arthur pretend not to laugh again.

‘Who’s that?’ She checks her watch. It’s midday, they never normally have visitors at midday. Mind you, theydidorder some tea towels and a new rolling pin from the Freemans catalogue the other day, so maybe that’s what it is. She just wishes these delivery drivers didn’t feel the need to ring the blessed doorbell every time they delivered something, as though it needs announcing. Surely it’d be perfectly acceptable to just leave it outside? She can’t be doing with answering the door every five minutes to every Tom, Dick and Harry.

‘How on earth do I know? Aren’t you going to get it?’

‘Well, yes, of course I am.’ She marches across the room and opens the front door decisively, ready to accept the package she’s expecting.

‘Oh!’

Carol jumps again, and the woman on the doorstep jumps too, her face white. Despite the fact Carol had been intending to go outside to speak to Jim’s wife, Laura, she was still the last person she’d been expecting to find on her doorstep. Carol wouldn’t have been more surprised if a delivery driver had turned up at her front door wearing a clown costume and thrown a custard tart in her face. And now Laura is staring at Carol as though she’s seen a ghost, her face drained of all colour, and she’s shaking like a leaf. Carol wonders if there’s something wrong with her. Maybe that’s why she never leaves the house and they’ve only ever met Jim. He’d never mentioned she was mentally impaired, although you probably wouldn’t, would you?

Suddenly Laura sticks her hand out towards Carol.

‘Hello, I’m Laura. From next door.’

Carol takes the warm palm in hers and shakes it limply. She can’t help noticing the hand is damp. She drops it and then spots someone else standing behind Laura. Another woman with blonde hair, tall and pretty. This second woman steps forward and holds out her hand too and gives a much firmer handshake, really quite firm in fact, and says, ‘I’m Debbie, Laura’s best friend.’ She has a lovely warm smile and Carol finds herself smiling back, slightly inanely. This ismostunexpected.

Suddenly she remembers herself.

‘Oh, you must think I’m awfully rude, please do come in.’ She opens the door fully and steps aside as the two women walk into the hallway. ‘Would you mind leaving your shoes just here, please?’ She indicates the small shoe rack and waits while they line their trendy ankle boots up next to hers and Arthur’s sensible shoes, then ushers them through to the living room where Arthur is still reading his paper. He glances up as they walk in and Carol tries to catch his eye, but he refuses to meet her gaze. He stands, his paper crumpled in one hand, and holds his other hand out and shakes both of theirs firmly as Carol flutters around in the background plumping cushions and straightening ornaments.

‘Please, do sit down,’ she says, gesturing towards the sofa, and they both sit, Debbie comfortably, Laura perched on the edge as though something would hurt her if she sat back properly, looking round the room nervously. For the first time, Carol sees her beloved living room through these young strangers’ eyes and wonders what they make of her rose-printed wallpaper, the huge swags of curtain, the framed family photos lined up along the walls, the frilly cushions and shelves and shelves of spotless, dust-free ornaments. She smooths her skirt down again and looks round the room expectantly. It soon becomes clear it’s going to be down to her to make conversation.

‘Can I fetch you something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?’ She hopes they want tea; she makes excellent tea.

‘Tea would be lovely, thank you,’ Debbie says. Laura just smiles and Carol wonders whether she can’t speak very well.

‘I won’t be a moment.’ She bustles out of the room and fusses around laying out the teapot, milk jug, sugar pot and cups on a tray – her nicest cups, of course, for visitors – then arranges a selection of Bourbon and Rich Tea biscuits on a plate. She wishes she still had some of those nice Fox’s ones left, the ones with the chocolate on them, but Arthur scoffed them all yesterday so these will have to do. She carries the whole lot through to the sitting room, wobbling slightly under the weight. As she approaches she can hear the murmur of voices and she hopes Arthur hasn’t asked them lots of questions that she’s missed the answers to. He’s always doing things like that even though he knows it infuriates her.

She needn’t have worried though as when she gets there they’re only talking about the weather. She might have known Arthur wouldn’t think to ask them anything important like what they’re doing here.

‘Right, well, please help yourselves.’ She gestures towards the tray, then sits on the armchair next to Arthur, facing the two women on the sofa.

‘This is an unexpected pleasure. It’s very lovely to meet you at last,’ she says, smiling at Laura.

‘You too.’ Laura’s voice is quiet and Carol leans forward to hear her better.

‘Only, it’s been, what, a good few months since you moved there—’ she tips her head to one side to indicate the house next door ‘—and we’ve only ever had the pleasure of meeting your lovely husband, Jim.’

‘Carol, don’t—’ Arthur starts but Carol stops him with one of her stares.

‘Yes, sorry, I…’ Laura pauses, unsure what to say, how to explain. Carol doesn’t let the hesitation stop her though.

‘HowisJim, anyway? We haven’t seen him for a while. He usually pops round every few days, doesn’t he, Arthur? Lovely man, so kind.’

Debbie, the other woman, coughs and speaks next. ‘Well, actually, that’s what we hoped we might be able to talk to you about.’

‘Oh?’ Arthur says, as Carol’s ears prick up. She can smell gossip a mile off and this has averystrong scent that something interesting is about to happen.

‘Yes,’ Debbie replies, and Carol feels herself leaning so far forward she’s in danger of tipping off the chair and landing face-first on her flowery carpet. She doesn’t want to miss a word. ‘I don’t know how much Jim told you about Laura?’

Carol glances at Laura, desperate to know more. ‘Told us?’ she says, her voice almost a squeak. ‘He didn’t really tell us anything, he just said you weren’t very well. I didn’t like to ask any more. I don’t like to be nosey, you know.’

She ignores Arthur’s snort, and instead watches as the two women exchange glances. Then Laura gives a tiny nod and clasps her hands in front of her. She’s trembling like a bowl of jelly. She begins to speak in her timid voice and Carol holds her breath in order to catch every word.

‘He’s right, I haven’t been well,’ she says. ‘I’ve—’ She stops, looks down at the carpet. Carol can hardly bear it. ‘I have something called agoraphobia. It means I’m too frightened to leave the house, or to be around other people.’ She smiles weakly and flutters her hands around the room as if to indicate exactly what she’s talking about.

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