The Good Neighbour Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Also by Beth Miller

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: Davey

  Chapter 2: Minette

  Chapter 3: Cath

  Chapter 4: Davey

  Chapter 5: Minette

  Chapter 6: Cath

  Chapter 7: Minette

  Chapter 8: Davey

  Chapter 9: Cath

  Chapter 10: Minette

  Chapter 11: Davey

  Chapter 12: Cath

  Chapter 13: Davey

  Chapter 14: Minette

  Chapter 15: Cath

  Chapter 16: Davey

  Chapter 17: Minette

  Chapter 18: Cath

  Chapter 19: Davey

  Chapter 20: Minette

  Chapter 21: Cath

  Chapter 22: Minette

  Chapter 23: Davey

  Chapter 24: Cath

  Chapter 25: Minette

  Chapter 26: Milo

  Chapter 27: Sandy

  Chapter 28: Minette

  Chapter 29: Milo

  Chapter 30: Minette

  Acknowledgements

  Reading Group Questions

  Author questionnaire with Beth Miller

  Extract from When We Were Sisters

  Copyright

  About the Book

  Everyone has secrets. How far will you go to protect yours?

  After living next to the neighbours from hell, Minette is overjoyed when Cath and her two children move in next door. Cath soon becomes her confidante, a kindred spirit, even her daughter’s babysitter.

  But Cath keeps herself unusually guarded and is reluctant to speak of her past. And when Minette witnesses something unspeakable, she begins to question whether she really knows her new friend at all...

  An addictive and gripping novel, perfect for fans of Liane Moriarty and Daughter

  About the Author

  Beth Miller’s first novel, When We Were Sisters, was recently published by Ebury Press. She is currently writing her third novel and is also working on a book about the world’s greatest radio show, called For The Love of The Archers. She has been a sex educator, alcohol counsellor and inept audio-typist. She has a PhD in psychology, and a diploma in drinking tea.

  Also by Beth Miller:

  When We Were Sisters

  For John, Molly and Saul

  Chapter 1

  Davey

  DAVEY WAS GLAD to be leaving Gina’s. Her house smelled of not nice bubble bath. His room there had a scary wardrobe, the door kept swinging open for no reason. The only thing he liked at Gina’s were the two fat white sofas. They looked so soft. But Gina wouldn’t let him sit on them.

  ‘Soon be there,’ Davey’s mum said in her cheerful voice. Davey stared out of the window. If he scrunched his eyes the houses looked like the houses in their old town. But it kept getting spoiled by the blue bits at the end of the roads. The sea. His old town didn’t have blue bits.

  Lola was next to him in the back, playing with Panda. Davey had left a lot of things behind in their old house. Cars, annuals, all his posters except his American flag, which wasn’t really a poster because it was made of material. And most of his teddies, except Waffles, who lay on Davey’s lap now. His granny had given Waffles to him when he was born. We can get more stuff, his mum said. Stuff doesn’t matter.

  They had moved before, but this was bigger. They’d never left so many people and things behind. He had even left Adam Purcell. He’d started talking to Adam Purcell in his head. Today Davey told Adam his top five flags:

  American, obviously.

  Portugal because the last present his dad had given him was from there, a T-shirt with the Portuguese flag on. Half red, half green, with a yellow-and-red shield in the middle. Davey’s dad knew he liked flags.

  Malaysia because it was like the American one, except with a moon.

  Uruguay because the sun on it was a proper sun with lots of yellow rays.

  Vietnam because he could draw it easily. It was a big gold star on a red background.

  Davey’s mum said the new house was going to be fantastic, but Adam Purcell pointed out that Davey’s mum said lots of things were fantastic. Gina letting them stay at hers was apparently ‘fantastic’. Their new house in Hove was going to be ‘fantastic’. Their new school was, you guessed it, ‘fantastic’. Adam Purcell was a good person to talk to.

  There was more and more sea now, bigger bits of blue in between the streets. Davey leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

  Chapter 2

  Minette

  THE MILTONS’ HORRIBLE Big Ben doorbell chimed out when Minette pressed it, and her mouth went instantly dry. On the few occasions she’d rung that bell before it had been to offer a timid apology, and receive a stone-cold bollocking in return.

  A blonde woman opened the door, and said, ‘I’ve got to get rid of that damn bell.’

  Minette laughed, relieved, and introduced herself. ‘I live next door,’ she said. ‘I heard you moving in this morning. I’ve made some biscuits.’

  ‘How lovely of you! Come in for a cuppa?’

  ‘You sure? You must be very busy.’

  ‘I could use a break.’ The woman called out, ‘Look, kids, our first visitors!’

  A little girl ran into the hall, and said a shy, ‘Hello.’ She was followed by a disabled boy in a wheelchair, who stared intently at Minette, but didn’t say anything.

  The woman told the children they could play in the living room, and she led Minette into the kitchen, which was looking remarkably sorted, only a couple of unpacked boxes on the floor. She put on the kettle. ‘Have a seat, Minette. I’m Cath. So, who’s this little one?’

  ‘This is Tilly.’ Minette sat down, and took Tilly carefully out of the sling. ‘She’s nine months.’

  ‘That’s a nice name. Wish I’d thought of it for Lola.’ Cath rummaged in a drawer and put a pile of spoons and a plastic bowl on the table. ‘Would you like to play with these, lovie?’ Tilly immediately started clattering them together.

  ‘Lola’s a pretty name, too,’ Minette said.

  ‘My hubby wanted to call her Esmie, after his mother, but I won that one.’

  Minette realised she could smell paint. ‘Surely you haven’t started decorating yet?’

  ‘Oh, I’m just getting shot of the magnolia. This place hasn’t been touched in years.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve done so much already!’

  ‘Davey and Lola are good little helpers.’ Cath brought over two mugs, and Minette’s homemade biscuits. ‘They organised most of the kitchen cupboards by themselves. They still think chores are fun. I’m dreading when they start to realise.’

  ‘So where have you moved from, Cath?’

  ‘We was up north. How about you, how long you been here?’

  ‘Oh, almost a year. Whereabouts …’

  ‘So you moved in just before this little lassie came along?’

  ‘That’s right. We were renting nearby before then.’

  ‘You must like it round here, then?’ Cath said.

  ‘Love it. We went to university in Brighton and liked it so much, we stayed on.’ To her surprise, Minette felt tearful. ‘Though actually, it’s not been that great lately.’ For god’s sake, she told herself, you can’t start blubbing because someone’s being vaguely nice. She sipped her tea, though it was too hot.

  ‘I know what it’s like,’ Cath said, sympathetically. ‘Babies are lovely, but exhausting.’

  ‘Oh, it’s not Tilly’s fault, it’s been, well – it’s complicated.’ Minette looked around her. ‘It’s so odd being in the House of Horror. I mean,’ she
said hastily, ‘that’s what we called it when the Miltons lived here. I had it in my mind as a haunted house, all cobwebs and skeletons.’

  ‘Well, it was clean enough. But everything’s so out of date. I could run the National Grid off the static electricity in the carpets. There are decent floorboards underneath.’

  ‘Yes, ours has the boards. Well, you got a bargain, I reckon. When we heard how much you got it for we were all a bit worried, and Kirsten over the road got a valuation. We were very relieved when they said hers was worth 30K more.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ Cath said, and Minette at once felt like a mortgage-whinging, middle-class stereotype. ‘So talking of neighbours, maybe you can tell me who’s who?’ Cath bit into a biscuit. ‘These are fantastic.’

  ‘I don’t know very many people yet. We’re next to you, obviously, that’s me and Abe, and Tilly. Priya’s next to us, she’s really nice, Indian family with kids, her mother lives with them. Then opposite, number 36, is Kirsten, who I know because she’s a cranial osteopath and she’s doing a few sessions with Tilly.’

  ‘Wow, she has her own osteopath already, impressive.’

  God’s sake, Minette, first mortgages and now baby therapies. Cath would think she was a total airhead. She said quickly, ‘Oh, Tilly’s just been having a bit of trouble sleeping so, you know, it’s supposed to help. Worth a try. Anyway, next to Kirsten is a student house. Then on your other side from us is, well, er, Liam.’

  Cath grinned. ‘Er Liam, blush blush?’

  Minette hid her face behind Tilly’s head. ‘I don’t know why I’m blushing! He’s just quite cute, I suppose.’

  ‘I spoke to someone very tasty this morning, tall guy, looks slightly like a young fair-haired Frank Sinatra. Could that be him?’

  ‘I only know what Frank Sinatra looked like when he was old and fat. But yes, that’s probably him. Longest legs in Hove, official award.’

  Cath’s little girl came in. ‘Baby!’ she said, seeing Tilly. And then, even more enthusiastically, ‘Biscuits!’

  ‘Hi Lola. Of course you can have a biscuit,’ Minette said.

  ‘Wait a minute, Lola, remember?’ Cath said, as the girl’s hand snaked towards the plate. To Minette she said briskly, ‘Are there any milk or nuts in them?’

  ‘No. Well, there’s milk in chocolate, isn’t there?’

  ‘She’s all right with chocolate, thank the lord. OK Lolly, go ahead. Take one for Davey.’

  Lola took the biscuits, beamed at Minette, and skipped out of the room.

  ‘Adorable,’ Minette said. ‘How old is she?’

  ‘Four. I’m trying to train her to ask about ingredients, she’s got some serious allergies, but she always forgets when she sees something yummy. Talking of yummy, you were telling me about the young Sinatra?’

  Minette wished she had more to tell about Liam. She’d only ever said one word to him, a couple of months ago. Tilly had woken, sobbing, at five in the morning, and Minette, terrified of another Milton complaint, had bundled her into the buggy and pushed her up and down the dark street. On her fourth circuit Liam, wearing a dark suit, came out of his house at a jog, heading to the station. Minette looked a complete state, was wearing her pyjamas under her puffy Michelin Man coat, hair in a messy pineapple on top of her head, so she hoped he wouldn’t notice her. But he said, ‘You’re up early,’ and gave her a gorgeous smile as he passed. She giggled and said, ‘Yes,’ kicking herself for her pathetic lack of repartee.

  She said now, ‘I’ve just seen him around a few times. Actually, a lot more in the last couple of weeks. I was wondering if he’d lost his job. He’s married,’ Minette added, hastily, in case she seemed too interested. ‘I don’t know her name, though I say hello to her in the street. And I’ve no idea who lives on their other side. It’s bad, isn’t it? We’ve been here nearly a year and I hardly know anyone.’

  ‘Well, hopefully you’ll get to meet some of them at my house-warming party. I was thinking of having one in a couple of weeks’ time.’

  ‘My god, you’re a breath of fresh air,’ said Minette.

  ‘Sounds like you didn’t get on too great with the last people here?’

  ‘Slight understatement. They were horrible to us. They couldn’t stand the noise. Tilly, you know. They banged on the walls at night.’

  ‘How horrible. They were pretty stiff when I spoke to them on the phone. Babies are supposed to cry. I bet you’re not even that noisy, are you, beautiful?’ Cath clucked at Tilly.

  ‘Not according to the Miltons. They were unfriendly from day one. They never got over the fact that I was pregnant but not married.’

  ‘Old-school types, huh?’

  ‘Totally. They behaved as if Abe was some kind of antisocial yob, just because he’s got long hair. I’m sure they used to spy on us out of your funny round window, when we were in the front garden. We drank champagne, well Prosecco, when we heard they were moving out.’

  ‘I hope you won’t feel the same way about us.’

  ‘Definitely not. I’m so glad you’re here.’ Minette raised her mug and chinked it against Cath’s.

  ‘Our first day in our wonderful new house.’ Cath stretched her arms out wide. ‘We’re really glad to be here, too.’

  Minette sang as she cut up carrots for a chicken cassoulet. Thank you, thank you, she prayed; to who, she didn’t know. To the God of Good Things, perhaps. Everything was going to be all right.

  ‘Minette is a glass-half-full type,’ one of her school reports had said, and she liked that view of herself. She did try to look on the bright side of things, though someone narky, Minette thought, might point out that it should be easy for her, given she’d led a fairly charmed life, had experienced few sorrows in her twenty-eight years. But then again, she said to the narky voice, things hadn’t been so smooth since having a baby. Not that there was anything wrong with Tilly, god no! She was perfect. Minette knew how lucky she was. She gave Tilly a big kiss as she put a bowl of raw vegetables in front of her. ‘Crudités, Tilly. Can you say “crudités”?’

  Yes, completely lucky. Think about all the things that could go wrong, that did go wrong every day. You didn’t have to look any further than the new kid next door, in a wheelchair. Poor him, and poor his mum. But it was – fingers crossed – such a good lucky thing for her that someone like that had moved in.

  By the time Abe got back from work, Minette had the radio on and was luxuriating in the noise.

  ‘Hi honey, I’m home,’ Abe called as usual. He kissed Tilly, but didn’t, Minette noticed, attempt to kiss her. ‘Isn’t that a bit loud?’ Then he remembered. ‘They’re gone!’

  ‘Yes! They’ve bloody well gone, and the new woman is lovely. She’s a bit older than us, late thirties, maybe forty? Two kids. Really friendly.’

  ‘That’s brilliant. Bon fucking voyage, Miltons. Hey, I brought you a no-more-House-of-Horror present to celebrate, look.’ He held up a stack of wooden picture frames, cobwebbed and dirty, doubtless from a skip. ‘Can you believe the stuff people chuck out, Dougie? They’ll scrub up nicely, be perfect for those black-and-white photos Dad took of Tilly.’

  His enthusiasm was contagious, so that even though Minette knew who’d be doing the scrubbing up, she smiled and took them from him carefully. Since having Tilly her life was made up of such compromises: dirty frames as a gift, curry in front of the telly instead of going out, smiles instead of kisses. Hand-holding rather than sex. Minette hadn’t noticed the lack of sex at first, because it had been the last thing on her mind. Like every new mum before her, she’d laughed mirthlessly when the solemn young midwife at the hospital questioned her about contraception, the day after Tilly was born. ‘If you think I’m doing that again …’ Minette had deadpanned, and the midwife smiled wearily, having heard it many times before.

  But Tilly was nearly nine months old now, and they still hadn’t done it, or even mentioned it. Minette suspected it was the noise factor: Abe, always quite shy in the bedroom, had not wanted to give the Miltons
something else, something more embarrassing, to bang on the wall about. So, Minette thought, ding-dong the witches are dead, lovely Cath is next door instead, and things will soon get better. She felt an anticipation that hadn’t been there for months. She turned up Radio 1 even louder, and clapped as Abe danced Tilly round the kitchen.

  Chapter 3

  Cath

  NO MATTER HOW careful you were with the measuring tape, Cath told the kids, there was always something that didn’t fit. The removal men yesterday had tried, god love ’em, had took the living-room door off the hinges, but in the end they had to admit defeat. They’d took the sofa to the dump for her; there was no way as she could eBay it, because it didn’t have that fire label thing. It just meant sitting on deckchairs for a bit, till she got her act together.

  This was a great house though. Hall plenty wide enough for the wheelchair – see, Davey, she could measure some things properly! And of course the Miltons had put in a disabled loo downstairs for his old mum. That was one of the attractions of the house: that and the two reception rooms. There was soon going to come a point, sad to say, when Davey would be too heavy a lump for her to carry upstairs. Then she could convert one of the downstairs rooms for him. At eight, he was still just about light enough, but the last couple of months she’d noticed a twinge in her back when she took him up to bed in the old house. But anyway, another massive advantage of the new house was that there were five less stairs. So chin up, Cathykins! Just because the sofa wouldn’t go in was small taters compared to the big pluses:

  New house, new town, new start.

  Gina just up the road.

  Good school for Davey.

  Away from all the bad stuff.

  She didn’t even want to think of the name of their last town, so associated with bad feelings was it. Troubletown, that’s what she’d call it now. Where you come from? Troubletown, up north. Oh can’t say as how I’ve ever heard of Troubletown. No lovie, you don’t want to, believe me!

  Like that pretty girl next door. Minette. French-sounding name, and French-looking too, with her dark hair and chic clothes, but English as you like. Not stuck-up, but nicely spoken. She was all, oh where you from, why’ve you moved here, but Cath was a life-long expert at asking questions rather than giving answers. ‘We was up north but what about you, how long you been here, what’s going on for kids, how old’s your baby, isn’t she sweet?’ The person you were talking to soon forgot you hadn’t answered them. Like when people asked – and a few of them had, the nosy whatsits, while they were staying at Gina’s – about the children’s father. Cath had rapped back, ‘He’s working abroad. So what about you, what does your husband do?’ Cath laughed her throaty laugh, thinking of the embarrassment this had produced (‘Oh god something in computing, I suppose I should know, shouldn’t I?’ or ‘Um he, well, we’re separated’). She went into the living room, where Davey was setting up the telly. Lola was kneeling on the floor, passing him leads, following his instructions.