The Girl Next Door Read Free

then, just for a while.
    She couldn’t believe she was here. Everything had happened so fast. Four months ago there had been no hint of any of this. Four months ago she’d been looking out of the window at her garden, at the deep beds she’d dug the year before, thinking about springtime. She’d loved that garden. And the house. Their first house. A three bedroom cottage in a village four miles from the centre of town. Top of their budget when they’d bought it, it still needed lots of work – the old couple they’d bought it from hadn’t done a thing to it in twenty years – so she’d become a rabid weekend DIY’er. She’d learnt to strip wallpaper, and tile and grout, and over the course of a year or two she’d eradicated all the Eighties décor and created a place she truly loved – all white walls and deep sofas. The garden had been the best part and the biggest revelation. She’d never taken the slightest bit of notice of the seasons before. She’d lived in her parents’ house, where the garden was somewhere to play and lounge around, in university halls and in flats, where, on hot, sunny days, Clapham Common was the only garden you needed, and you ignored it for the other 360 days of the year. Now, she drank the first cup of tea of the morning on the little patio off the kitchen, almost every day, drinking in the sights and sounds and smells of the garden all year round.
    She’d been on the patio when Ed had come home, that day. Wearing his Barbour and a rainbow‐striped woolly hat that she’d had forever and that Ed called ‘the teacosy’. Drinking a mug of Earl Grey, and inspecting her beds, daydreaming of bulbs. She was always home an hour or so before Ed. He worked in London, and was at the mercy of the capricious trains. Much as she loved him, that was often her favourite hour of the day. All her own. A good day’s work done (mostly). Time to indulge her new‐found domesticity. Marinate something. Prune something.
    He was later than usual, that day. She smelt beer on his breath as he kissed her. ‘Evie.’ She loved that he called her Evie. He had, since the first day she’d met him, and he was the only person in the world who did, since her mum.
    ‘You’ve been drinking!’
    ‘Sorry, Mum. Just one.’
    ‘Who with?’ She put her hands on her hips in a Lucille Ball sort of way, but she was smiling.
    ‘The boys from work.’
    ‘The Boys’ were an amorphous lump of masculinity so far as Eve was concerned. She’d met them, possibly, at the Christmas party, at the Summer Family Fun Day (and the award for most misnamed day goes to…), but they were an indistinct lot – Ben and Dan and Tom and Dave and Tim and… the rest. ‘Good day, then?’
    ‘ Great day.’
    Now her curiosity was aroused. ‘How so?’
    ‘Come inside, babe. It’s freezing out here. I want to talk to you.’ Ed pulled her by both hands, walking backwards towards the door. She let him. Inside their kitchen, he went to the fridge, and pulled out a bottle of wine. ‘We’re celebrating.’ He grabbed two glasses from the washing‐up rack and poured.
    ‘What?’
    ‘I’ve got a new job. I’ve been promoted.’
    ‘Ed! That’s fantastic! I didn’t even know you were up for something…’
    ‘Nor did I. Well, not exactly.’
    Eve picked up the two glasses, proffering one towards him. ‘You star. Cheers.’
    ‘Cheers, Evie.’ They both drank.
    Eve pulled out a chair and sat down, still watching him. He looked so happy. ‘Tell me all.’
    ‘I haven’t told you the best bit…’
    ‘A raise?’ A raise would be great. They could really do with reducing the mortgage… all the spare cash they’d had in the last couple of years had gone to B&Q…
    ‘Yes, yes, a raise. A pretty massive one. But that’s not it.’ He widened his eyes, smirking at her.
    She smacked his chest playfully. ‘Stop teasing me, you bugger. Wha‐a‐at?’
    ‘The job is in… NEW YORK! ’ Ed did jazz hands. He looked strangely