To Love Thy Neighbour Read online

  To Love Thy Neighbour

  By

  S M Mala

  Published by S M Mala

  Copyright © S M Mala 2015

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication is to be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any forms or by any means, including photocopying, recording or any other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher/author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Visit my website: www.smmala.com to see other titles.

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  ISBN: 978-0-9928364-5-0

  Differences are inconsequential; only love matters.

  ‘Fifty years old.’

  No matter how many times Esme had said it over the past twenty-four hours, it still felt awful.

  Looking at herself in the mirror and trying not to cry, she said it again.

  ‘I’m a single, fifty-year-old woman with a twenty-three-year-old son and …’ Taking a deep breath, she knew she could do it. ‘A barista and a handy woman; two businesses that are mine. I own my home, and I don’t look that bad for my age.’

  Then she frowned at the small amount of grey starting to show around her temples, slightly hidden by semi-permanent dye. Her hair hung just over her shoulders, and had a glossy shine.

  Which was exactly what her face had after applying an expensive face serum Alfie, her son, had bought.

  It guaranteed to give you a healthy glow. Esme thought all the paint stripper in the world would never be able to wipe the expression from her miserable face.

  Leaning really close to the mirror, she was thankful of her genetic make-up, and that her skin was wrinkle free, but she was no spring chicken. She could pass for much younger, and had spent the past fifteen years doing so, now Esme didn’t see the point.

  ‘I’m old and I’m going to be dead soon. My insides are ageing, and no amount of gin can stop that,’ she grumbled, putting her hair up in a clip. ‘Even if I go to ‘All Angels’ church to check out the hot young vicar, pretending I want to repent my sins, nothing’s going to help! Bloody life!’

  There was noise coming from next door. The new neighbours were moving in, and Esme suspected they were a happily married couple with two kids; all was wonderful.

  She grimaced at the thought of explaining that she was a divorcee, very much single, and the only exciting sound they’d hear was the occasion pop of the cork from a bottle of wine.

  That was the only thing that was popping from a hole as her sex life was dismal, other than her secret liaisons with someone who she daren’t mention in any conversation.

  Tonight she had promised Ralph Parker, her neighbour who lived across the road, she would go out to dinner with him. Things were getting desperate as he had moved in two years earlier and was an obnoxious middle-class wanker, who Esme took an instinct dislike to. His pompous and arrogant nature annoyed the neighbours. Mainly because he had the biggest house, the largest garden and a humungous drive.

  Not to mention the flash cars.

  The people similar to her lived in the small, three bedroom cottages across the road.

  To Ralph, it was as if they were a blot on his landscape.

  Mostly Esme and the house next door, which were directly in front of Ralph’s home. They were semi-detached with a small garage either side, which could just about fit an automobile.

  He took offence to her mobile coffee shop ‘Hot Java’ and her small white van displaying her DIY company name ‘Handy Mommas.’ Time and time again, the insufferable man would complain about how her vehicles brought down the area. That was a joke as the ‘Hot Java’ van was kept in the garage, and her other vehicle had a rather tasteful, discreet logo.

  Ralph said it looked like the name of a brothel that made her wonder if he liked having sex with geriatrics, hence his interpretation of the name and now pursuing her.

  She had to laugh.

  Esme used the fact that because she was a woman, he was trying to stand his ground. This incensed Ralph even more because he was a barrister and knew comments like that would have some repercussions.

  She lived on that road for fifteen years, and only a bomb would have made the area undesirable. It was a nice little road, in a lovely part of London that had simply been inundated with people who didn’t have enough money to move to the swish parts of central West London.

  These new residents had young families and were professionals. The road was sometimes saturated with nannies, all foreign and young replacement parents while the mothers and fathers sought to make more money.

  Or go to the gym then lunch.

  It was the side Esme lived on that was quaint and less up your arse. And the neighbours were nicer and easier to get on with.

  But now, for the past four months, Ralph was too nice, and Esme wondered what he was up to. The constant ‘accidentally’ bumping into her which progressed from coffee (not her own, of course. He would rather go to a more expensive coffee shop than hang around her mobile one and sip from paper cups) to drinks in a bar.

  Today, a day after her birthday, she thought the idea of spending time with Ralph might take her mind off the fact she was feeling depressed, old and disgruntled with life.

  Cross-checking that she looked okay, Esme powdered her nose and examined her little black dress and low heels.

  ‘It’ll do,’ she said, grabbing her thick shawl, knowing that in February, the weather was good at changing its mind.

  As was she when it came to Ralph.

  Stepping out of her home, she noticed the van being unloaded and a child’s bike.

  ‘Another bloody happy family,’ she groaned, shaking her head in dismay. ‘I’ll be the only single person on this road soon.’

  Then she noticed Ralph standing at his door, holding two glasses of gin and tonic.

  Examining the tall man with thick, strawberry blond and grey hair, she tried not to smile.

  He was very good looking and knew it. For fifty-two, he was extremely fit and healthy; his body was that of a thirty-something.

  Esme knew he worked hard for it, seeing the personal trainer go to his home about four times a week. The divorcee obviously wanted to keep in shape for the women that seemed to traipse through. She had watched in amazement as these twenty to thirty somethings came and go.

  The only people that came to Esme’s front door were her family and friends, plus the postman. Opposite to Ralph, she had slept in her bed alone for nearly a decade.

  For years, she focussed on making sure her son was happy and didn’t want for anything.

  His estranged father had felt the need to pursue his life and future in the United States of America.

  And this shredded Esme’s heart and soul, seeing the pain her son went through, and the inevitable hurt she suffered too.

  But always she hid it from others. She had to because Esme wasn’t born with thick skin – hers was as fragile as tissue paper. One comment could shred her to pieces, and this made her life incredibly hard, covering for her increasing sense of pain she felt for all the people she loved.

  To make sure her emotions were kept in check, she avoided any relationships.

  Anything that could put her and her only child in a vulnerable position.

  And that was the sacrifice she was willing to make, all for the love of her son, Alfie.

  ‘Over there.’ />
  Leon stood watching the removal men put the boxes in the allocated rooms. Then he looked around his new home with a sense of excitement and despair.

  The fact he managed to scrape together the deposit and sorted out purchasing his first home, with the help of his dad, was one thing. But the sense of responsibility and hoping everything would be perfect for his small family, was another.

  Mali was his focus, and she would always be.

  He promised himself to stop feeling depressed and alone, and in tears when things got on top of him.

  Or when he thought too hard about what had happened.

  This was a fresh start for them both.

  Then he noticed her bike being taken out of the van and smiled. It was pink with tassels at the end and stabilisers on the back.

  He did a double take.

  It was then he noticed a woman walk across the road. She was attractive, wearing a little black dress. What caught his eye was her smile and that she looked similar to his daughter, other than she had dark caramel skin, whereas Mali had a feint tint of brown.

  She walked into the extremely large house across the road, greeted by a man who looked posh.

  That was the only way to describe him.

  The guy kissed her on the cheek and handed her a glass before she stepped inside.

  For a moment, Leon thought she hesitated.

  ‘I wonder if we’re going to fit in?’ he mumbled to himself, running his fingers through his dark hair.

  The place was a small cottage that had been converted to create more space, all the walls on the ground floor knocked down. Upstairs had two double bedrooms and a single, along with a small bathroom.

  It had been newly decorated, and the developer was inspired by the next door neighbour’s home.

  He walked towards the back, where the kitchen was and looked out onto the garden.

  It was a mess.

  This is where his landscape gardening skills would come in to make it perfect for his five-year-old daughter.

  Already he knew she would demand a Wendy House at the back of the garden, which made him smile, knowing she would want him to paint it pink.

  ‘I wonder what the neighbours will think about that,’ he mumbled.

  ‘How do you feel?’

  Ralph was standing a little too close to Esme. ‘Into your half century. Now if you were playing cricket that would be a good thing.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she shrugged and stepped slightly away, looking at his overly large garden that he hardly used. ‘Why don’t you get someone to sort out that mess?’

  ‘It’s okay. Old Gerrard comes round to cut the lawn.’

  ‘He’s about ninety and can just cope with a hover mower,’ she laughed, shaking her head. ‘Invest in a gardener and do something nice with the land. It’s such a waste.’

  ‘You can come and help out.’

  ‘I’m not doing your weeding. I can just about cope with my postage stamp sized back yard.’

  ‘I think it’s very pretty.’ Just then, he touched her hair, and she felt his finger sweep over her skin. ‘Your garden and you, but that goes without saying.’

  ‘Then don’t say it.’

  ‘Esme,’ he whispered, leaning down so she could feel his breath on her skin. ‘You know I find you attractive and I want us to get closer.’

  ‘We’re not suited in many ways.’ Esme turned to look up at him. ‘Just because I’m the lonely old woman who lives across the road, doesn’t mean I need a good seeing to.’ She smiled at his grin. ‘And frankly, I want us to be friends.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked, stroking her arm.

  It didn’t do anything for her.

  Her skin didn’t tingle.

  Esme certainly wasn’t turned on.

  ‘I think we’re better off as friends. Anyway, I cater for your parties so if we had a falling out, you wouldn’t get the free service.’

  ‘You’re so kind and caring, you know that?’ Ralph said, taking the glass out of her hand. ‘Let’s skip dinner and go to bed.’

  Esme took her glass back and shook her head from side to side.

  ‘How do you ever win cases if you don’t listen?’ she asked, walking away from him and staring out the front window.

  ‘I’m very persistent.’

  ‘I bet you are.’

  Then she looked over to see what was going on with the removal van.

  A young man walked out, instructing the men what to do, and she noticed he then laughed out loudly.

  He was captivating, and Esme was taken aback by her instant attraction towards him.

  It was odd.

  She examined his dark short hair, slim body and tanned face. Even from across the road she could see he had vibrant eyes and looked extremely happy. He was average height and dressed quite similar to Alfie, other than he was wearing shorts in cold weather.

  ‘I can sum him up in a minute,’ said Ralph, coming up behind her. ‘Mid-thirties, married to some beautician with one or maybe two kids. Probably got some help with the deposit for this first home and wanted it to be oh, so perfect.’

  ‘You sound a little bit resentful,’ Esme frowned, turning to Ralph.

  ‘No such thing as a perfect marriage let alone relationship, is there?’

  ‘That we agree on,’ she sighed unhappily, looking back at the young man. ‘Let’s hope he proves us wrong.’

  ‘He won’t.’

  ‘He might.’

  ‘You don’t like it?’

  Looking at his five-year-old, Leon noticed her grumpy face when she walked into the bedroom. ‘It’s not been decorated yet so I thought we could do it together.’

  Mali walked up to her grandmother, slipping her hand into her palm before scowling at her dad. She was also holding tightly onto Moo Moo, her soft cloth toy cow.

  ‘Sweetheart, daddy will make it perfect for you. He didn’t have time because you only just moved in yesterday,’ the older woman said. ‘You know daddy will do a good job.’

  Still the child didn’t say anything as Leon looked in utter confusion at his mother. She discreetly smiled at him before looking down at her grandchild.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Barbara asked gently.

  ‘Why can’t I sleep in daddy’s room?’ Mali eventually asked, before looking at him. ‘I not want my own room.’

  ‘We lived in a cramped one bedroom flat for too long and you need your own space. I’m only next door, and you can still come and see me,’ he said, bending down to look at her straight in the eye.

  That’s when he was overwhelmed by how beautiful she was.

  Half Caucasian and half Malaysian, she was striking. Mali’s complexion was very fair, but she had green, brown eyes and a shock of straight jet black hair which was always in either two bunches or two braids, plus a fringe. Her face was round with little cheeks and extremely pretty rose bud, full lips.

  The child resembled a doll.

  And that’s where Leon immediately failed as a father.

  He couldn’t do enough for his child.

  Sometimes he wished he never walked into that bar in Highbury and Islington.

  It turned his life upside down, leaving him a single father of a little girl.

  ‘Nana, please stay here?’ Mali asked, looking like she was on the verge of tears. ‘Not want Nana to go.’

  ‘We’ve been at Nana’s house for two months, and now we have to move into our new home,’ he gently said, stroking her soft cheek. ‘I want us to be happy. It’s near your school, and we can have friends round on playdates.’

  ‘One step at a time,’ Barbara said, taking a deep breath.

  He looked up at his mother, her green eyes starting to well up. Leon knew she loved having Mali around, and it was ripping her to pieces letting the child go.

  ‘Do you want me to take Mali back to the house? She can return once you’ve unpacked. I don’t mind.’

  The two most important women in his life didn’t seem keen to stay. />
  ‘I’ll let you stay at Nana’s,’ he eventually replied. ‘And it is Friday.’

  ‘I am Jewish and have to stay with Nana on Friday.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Leon said under his breath, looking at his mother’s smug expression. ‘You are not Jewish. If you want to be, we’ll work on it.’ Then he glanced up at Barbara’s smile. ‘I am not a practising Jew so let’s not go there.’

  ‘Nana said I will marry a good Jewish boy.’

  ‘For Christ-.’

  ‘Leon!’ his mother hissed, shaking her head furiously. ‘You have to set boundaries.’

  ‘Not this! Not yet!’

  ‘Had I been firmer with you then maybe things would have turned out better.’

  ‘I don’t want to hear it,’ he replied, kissing Mali before standing up.

  ‘You need a nice Jew girl,’ Mali said with full authority. ‘Nana said.’

  ‘One night only,’ he huffed. ‘You’ve been spending too much time listening to your old Nana.’

  ‘He’s no good for you.’

  Esme couldn’t hold on for any longer. Alfie was sitting in front of her at the dining table, looking miserable the following Saturday morning.

  He was such a beautiful young man; a head turner. Always was, since he was a child. With dark straight hair and large brown eyes, he looked more like Esme but had unique features courtesy of his part Hawaiian-American father. Alfie was fair skinned, and it looked like he had a tan though it was his actual colouring.

  He had done some modelling as a teenager but thought it shallow so decided to use it to make pocket money.

  And meet men.

  Which Esme suspected from the start.

  And one of them was the wanker called Vincent who treated her son terribly.

  She was tempted many a time to take her rolling pin and shove it up the wrinkly arsed artist’s backside for hurting her son.

  Esme hated the manipulative geriatric but knew there was no use telling Alfie. Even when he went to university to study politics and economics, that predator was always hanging around; flourishing her child with lavish gifts and holidays.