Page 25 of Only for Christmas

‘I don’t like the sound of your breathing.’

‘Well, I don’t like the sound of your voice, so neither of us are happy.’

He couldn’t help laughing. ‘Do you want this leak fixed, or not?’

‘Fine. But no funny business.’ She pointed a finger at him. ‘You keep your hands to yourself.’

‘I won’t do anything you don’t give consent for, okay?’ He wound tape around the pipe.

She rubbed her chest, her wheezing pronounced. ‘I suppose.’

‘I’ve tightened the bolts and temporarily sealed the pipe with tape, but I think the washers need replacing. I’ll check on the leak when I call around to give you a health check on Tuesday.’

‘Tuesday? I can’t do Tuesday.’

‘You told me you don’t go anywhere.’

‘Doesn’t mean I’m not busy.’

‘All day?’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Pushy, ain’t you?’

He stood up and brushed dust away from his jeans. ‘I’ll call around on my way home from the hospital. Don’t even think about not answering the door.’

‘What are you, a mind reader?’

‘I’m worried about you, Mrs Kelsey.’ He washed his hands in the sink.

‘Yeah, well, don’t even think of asking me to quit smoking.’ She turned to leave. ‘It’s the one ruddy pleasure I have in this world.’

Having dried his hands, he followed her down the hallway into the lounge.

She stopped by the cabinet and inspected the bouquet of flowers. ‘You bought these for the woman upstairs?’

‘Yep.’

‘You know she’s likely to throw them in your face?’

‘I do.’

‘Yet you’re still going to try?’

‘That I am, ma’am… sorry, Mrs Kelsey.’ He collected plates and mugs from the floor and carried them through to the kitchen, which was no better than the rest of the flat. Piles of washing-up filled the sink and there was a faint smell of outdated food. ‘Why do you give her such a hard time?’ he asked, returning to the lounge.

‘Who?’

‘Sarah, your neighbour.’

‘I don’t.’ She sounded indignant. ‘I treat her like anyone else. She’s all right, as neighbours go. Better than most. Helps me out occasionally.’

‘That’s nice of her.’ He took the rest of the crockery through to the kitchen. ‘Can I wash these up for you?’

‘No, you bloody can’t.’ She waited until he’d returned. ‘And you would say that; you’re smitten with her.’

He thought about it. ‘Not smitten. Intrigued.’

‘Either way, you’re wasting your money buying her flowers. Now stop messing about with my stuff and be off with you. You’re getting on me nerves.’

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