The Kellys of Kelvingrove Read Free

the best of both worlds,’ Jack said. ‘Like being in the country, yet near to town. So we’ll take it. OK?’
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    Her heart warmed with love towards Jack. Trust him to get something wonderful like this. Probably he’d asked all the police officers on the beat to keep an eye open for somewhere nice. Anyway, now that she’d seen the place, she was happy and looking forward to the move. She could hardly wait. It was then, unexpectedly, that the trouble started.
    Jack had said he was looking forward to sleeping in a ‘proper bed’. Not a hole-in-the-wall bed, as the one in the tenement flat was called. So was she, but it hadn’t occurred to her what a ‘proper bed’ would cost. Then there was the paint and wallpaper needed. Not to mention new carpets and furniture for the extra bedrooms. It obviously hadn’t occurred to Jack either. And she hadn’t the heart to worry him. She even got into the habit of quoting prices less than what she paid.
    He said she couldn’t hang up her rusty-looking utensils in their lovely, newly-painted kitchen and so she’d even had to buy new kitchen equipment. In no time, their small savings account was empty and she had to order all the big stuff like furniture and carpets from a wholesale warehouse. She imagined that in the two or three months that the warehouse might take to send in their account, she would have saved up enough again to cover it.
    Jack loved the new house and was so proud of it.
    But then the warehouse account came in and she nearly died of shock. She had never been faced with such a huge bill in her life. She felt so dazed by it that she could hardly pay any attention to a very posh neighbour, a Mrs Charlotte Arlington-Jones from house number five – a tall woman with a long nose. She had come to tell her of the ‘ghastly neighbours in number three and four’ and how they should all get together and complain to the authorities until the ‘ghastly creatures’ were removed. Apparently number three housed the Shafaatullas, a Pakistani Muslim family. Two gay men lived in number four.
    Letters about the warehouse bill began arriving, threatening court proceedings and all sorts of awful things if the account was not paid immediately. Mae became distraught. She wandered about in a daze. She didn’t know how she managed to carry on with her normal housework. She even attended a meeting organised by Mrs Arlington-Jones from house number five. Others at the meeting were Mrs Jean Gardner from number six – another posh lady but with a kind face and gentle voice. She was immaculately turned out with dark hair piled on top of her head and face carefully made up and long artificial nails painted deep red. There was also Doris McIvor and her mother from house number two, Mae’s next door neighbour. Elderly Mrs McIvor was obviously suffering from serious dementia. The man from number seven was a tall skeleton of man with wild-looking eyes. He was called the Reverend Denby and was a retired minister from the Highlands.
    The meeting took place in Mrs Arlington-Jones’s sitting room – a curious group of neighbours chatting in a desultory manner while Mrs Arlington-Jones bustled about.
    ‘Right, ladies and gentlemen, I’ve called this meeting to complain about the new tenants in our exclusive little enclave here. I believe that it will lower the tone of the place with that large family of Asian people moving in here. I shudder to think how many of them there are. And I dread to think what they’ll be getting up to. Everyone knows they have ghastly bad taste. They are likely to paint the outside of that house a bright pink or purple or something – and as for that awful smell of curry! Well, what more can I say?’
    She sat back and folded her arms, waiting for a response from the others. Quite a lively debate ensued.
    Mae Kelly and Doris McIvor worriedly said, ‘Now, we don’t really know that they’ll be in any way offensive, do we?’
    Mrs Jean