Connect with us

З життя

Next Door Neighbours: Unveiling the Lives Around Us

Published

on

Listen, Victor, spat Nigel, leaning against his neighbours garden wall, youve taken her as a wife, and she cant cook a proper roast nor even sort the laundry correctly. He stared mournfully at his modest cottage, the place where his young wife used to sleep.

Nigel, fiddling with a wrench on his motorbike, chuckled.

Come on, Vic, the wedding was just yesterday. Give your missus a bit of time to recover from the whole spectacle.

What? Im not interested in the wedding talk. She wore me out that day.

Wore you out? How so? Nigel asked, genuinely curious.

Victor spat out a sunflower seed hull and frowned.

Right from the start she started playing games. When I arrived at her house with the dowry, the whole yard was a mess. She riddled me with nonsense riddles, forced me to dance a gypsy jig, and my new trousers ripped from the strain. My old man gave me those pants, and I married her anyway. By the time I made it to her bedroom Id gone through a dozen circles of hell, only to find shed bolted out the window and fled. The whole village searched for half a day, finally finding her laughing and saying shed changed her mind. When I trampled her bouquet she burst into tears, swore I didnt get her humor, and that the whole ceremony was a farce. At the reception she wouldnt let me touch her, fearing Id dirty her dress. Youve been eating fried fish, Vic, with filthy fingers, she snapped. My dress is expensive; its not a napkin for you. So stop whining about the wedding, Colin.

Nigel set his wrench down, scratched his head under his flat cap and said, Well, Vic, keep quiet about it. You know my sister, Kate, shes never caused such a kerfuffle.

Exactly! All women are fine, but I got a real piece of work. I get up, do the chores, and she just lies in bed! She could at least boil the kettle.

Does she want to work?

Nigel was surprised. She refuses to look for a job. Says she needs a break after school. Her mother and aunt slip her money for trinkets and hairpins, otherwise shed scream at me all day.

Nigel sighed, stared at Victor and said, Youve landed yourself in a rotten spot, mate. Youve married a lazy miss. Send her packing until she bears a child, or at least try to

Victor retorted, How was I supposed to know the Chesters raised a lazy girl? They kept bragging about their darling Lily being a golden goose. Turns out it was a con. Now theyre off prancing about, as if theyd dropped her like ballast, leaving me duped.

The village was a picturepostcard: a meandering river, cricket chirps in the grass, occasional moo of a cow, a dogs bark, and a roosters crow. Tractors and motorbikes rattled along the dusty lane, metal buckets clanged.

Colin! shouted Kate from their cottage, flinging the kitchen window open. Dinners ready, come in.

Victor turned lazily toward his own wife, Nicole, and slumped by his bike, listening to the muffled sounds drifting from the newlyweds house next door.

Vic, could you peel the potatoes? Ill fetch the onions, cooed Lily, as sweet as a kitten.

Why am I stuck peeling? That’s a womans job, Victor muttered to Nigel, who was still tinkering with his bike. Im already chopping the chicken.

Ha, Nigel chuckled, theyre just simmering the stew, while my own soup is already on the stove!

Lilys voice floated in, Im busy, love, fixing my hair rollers.

Patience, Lily! Victor called back, Im trying to look dashing for you.

Lily giggled, I want to be pretty, not a dull drudge. When I curl my hair like this I feel like a young Sophia Loren. Trust me, Ive got videos and everything.

Nicole, standing by the stove, glared at Victor. Whats the answer, then?

She tossed her head, stormed out, and slipped into a sleek dress, powdering on lipstick. A few moments later she returned, solemn, stripped the dress, slipped into a housecoat, and washed her face clean. She gathered her hair into a bun and perched on the sofa where Victor was dozing.

Victor, she said, are you complaining about me to the neighbours?

Yes? he whispered.

Youve been listening to everyone elses gossip. If youre unhappy, say it! Stop moaning about my habits.

She burst into tears, her cheeks damp. From that day she stopped admiring herself in the mirror, began scrubbing the floors, baking pies, and visiting the neighbours houses in a sullen mood. Her smile vanished, the laughter stopped, and the music in Victors home fell silent.

One morning Victor woke up to find the bed empty, a note pinned to the door:

Victor, Ive decided Im a terrible wife. Youre always complaining to the neighbours, its too much. Im leaving. Dont look for me youll never find me. Goodbye.

What the hell? Victor shouted, Lucy! My Lucy!

Nigel rushed over, trying to console his friend. She ran off, huh? Let her go. The countryside isnt for her; shell probably head to the city where lifes livelier. I told you shed be a bad wife, didnt I? Dont worry, Vic, well find you a proper, hardworking partner.

At that moment Kates sister, little Mae, appeared with a tray of pots, shouting, Maes here to help, Victor! Well sort this out.

Nigel peered out the window at the neighbours house and muttered, Whys no one staying home? Ive got no one to go fishing with.

Kate, from the kitchen, complained, Whats all this shouting about, Kate?

Lately, the household atmosphere had turned sour. Kate, having watched her neighbour Lucy run off, had started to change as well, and Nigel noticed.

Kate, whats this about? he asked, irritated. Youve dumped all the chores onto me. I cant breathe, let alone sit down.

Kate snapped back, Am I not a person in your eyes? Im not just a workhorse! I want perfume, makeup, a glimpse of myself in the mirror, a shopping trip to the town, maybe a new dress

Nigel finally understood. Ah, so its Lucys influence again.

Kate sighed, Its not Lucys fault. Ive stopped seeing a life with you, Colin. Im stuck at the stove, tending the animals. When was the last time I danced? Only at the school prom with you. Oh, Colin

Victor returned to the village, hammer in hand, busy nailing windows and doors. Nigel heard the hammers thud and rushed over.

What are you doing, Vic? he asked, eyes wide.

Im moving, neighbour, Victor announced.

Where to? Nigel asked, stunned.

Im heading to the town centre. Theyve got a club, a café, somewhere to take a wife.

What wife? Lucy ran off.

Ive found her, Victor grinned, She landed a job in the town centre, rented a flat. Im going to join her.

Nigels jaw dropped. Youve gone mad, Vic! Trusting a flighty lass? You married yourself into trouble, you know that, right? Youll come back without a stitch, without a wife! Dont be daft, listen to me. Forget this nonsense and take my sister, Mae. Shell make borscht, bake pies, wash shirts

Victor laughed, shaking his head. Happiness isnt in pies, Nigel. Its in love. If were surviving on semiready meals, at least she, my beautiful Lucy, will be by my side! I was wrong before, but not now.

Nigel kept shouting, trying to pull his friend back, but Victor just laughed and walked away.

Stupid fool, Nigel muttered, married a daft woman and became one himself. Two shoes, one pair

Nigel trudged home, sighing, only to find Kate sitting on the doorstep, clutching a suitcase.

What are you doing here? he asked, bewildered.

Its over, Colin. Im leaving you. She sobbed, I cant see a future with you. Im heading to the town centre to find work! Im tired of toiling for you! Maybe Ill be like Lucy free

She wailed, and Nigel gently lifted the suitcase, hugging her trembling form.

Okay, Kate youd have said it, you know. I should have listened. He sighed, If only Id heard you sooner.

The old stereotypes in Nigels mind began to crack, but the village carried on, with its river humming, crickets chirping, and the occasional roar of a tractor on the dusty road.

Click to comment

Leave a Reply

Ваша e-mail адреса не оприлюднюватиметься. Обов’язкові поля позначені *

п'ять + вісімнадцять =

Також цікаво:

З життя6 години ago

A Parent’s Love: Family Gatherings, Christmas Surprises, and a Lesson in Protectiveness on a Winter’s Day

Parental Love Mum always said, Children are the flowers of life, shed laugh, and Dad would grin and add, Flowers...

З життя6 години ago

Igor Never Returned From His Holiday: When Your Husband Disappears by the Seaside, a Wife’s Search, Tense Family Reunion, and the Painful Truth That Comes Home

Since his holiday, Stanley never came back Hasnt your husband written or called yet? Not a word, Vera, not after...

З життя7 години ago

“Oh, You Drive Me Mad!… I Eat Wrong, I Dress Wrong, I Do Everything Wrong!”—Pavel’s Voice Broke Into a Shout. “You Can’t Do Anything Right!… Can’t Even Earn a Decent Living… And You’re No Help Around the House, Ever!”—Marina Sobbed, “…And There Are No Children…” She Whispered. Belka, the Ten-Year-Old Ginger-and-White Cat, Watched Silently from Atop the Cupboard as Another Family “Tragedy” Unfolded. She Knew, Even Felt, That Mum and Dad Loved Each Other Dearly—So Why Say Such Hurtful Things? Mum Ran Off Crying, Dad Chain-Smoked by the Window, and Belka Thought to Herself: “What This Home Needs Is Happiness, And Happiness Means Kids… Somehow, We Need to Find Children…” Belka Herself Couldn’t Have Kittens—She’d Been Neutered Long Ago. As for Mum, The Doctors Said It Was Possible, But Something Never Quite Worked Out… The Next Morning, After Mum and Dad Left for Work, Belka Squeezed Out the Window and Went to See Her Neighbour, Whiskers, for Advice. “Why On Earth Would You Want Kids?” Sniffed Whiskers. “Ours Always Come Over—Hide From Them If You Can! They Smear My Muzzle With Lipstick Or Squeeze Me ‘Til I Can’t Breathe!” Belka Sighed, “We Need Proper Children… But Where On Earth Do We Get Them?” “Well… That Stray Molly on the Street Just Had Five… Take Your Pick…” Whiskers Shrugged. On Her Own Daring, Belka Tiptoed Balcony to Balcony Down to the Street, Squeezed Through The Bars of a Basement Window, and Called Out, “Molly, Could You Come Here for Just a Moment?” From Deep Within the Cellar Came the Desperate Squeaking of Kittens. Belka Cautiously Approached. Underneath the Heater, Five Blind, Mismatched Kittens Searched The Air, Wailing Hungrily. Molly Hadn’t Been There for At Least Three Days. The Babies Were Starving… Feeling She Might Cry, Belka Carefully Carried Each Kitten to the Entrance of Her Building. Lying Beside the Screeching, Hungry Bunch, She Waited Anxiously for Mum and Dad to Come Home. When Pavel and Marina Returned from Work, They Were Astonished—There Was Belka, Never Before Out Alone, Being Nursed by Five Noisy Kittens. “How on Earth Did This Happen?” Pavel Stammered. “It’s a Miracle…” Whispered Marina. They Scooped Up Belka and the Kittens and Rushed Inside. As Pavel Watched Their Purring Cat in a Box Full of Babies, He Asked, “So… What Are We Going To Do With Them?” “I’ll Hand-Feed Them… When They’re Grown, We’ll Find Them Homes… I’ll Call My Friends,” Whispered Marina. Three Months Later, Still Stunned By The Miracle, Marina Sat Stroking Her Feline Clan, Repeating to Herself, “This Can’t Be Real… This Can’t Happen…” And Soon After, She and Pavel Wept for Joy, Laughing and Embracing, “I’m So Glad We Finished Building This House!” “Yes! Perfect for a Child to Play Outside!” “And the Kittens Can All Run Around!” “There’s Room for Everyone!” “I Love You!” “Oh, I Love You Even More!” Wise Old Belka Wiped Away a Tear—Life Was Finally Coming Together…

Im so fed up with you! Nothing I do is right for you! The way I eat, what I wearits...

З життя7 години ago

Excuse Me, Sir, Please Don’t Push—Oh, Is That Smell Coming From You? A Chance Encounter, a Perfectly Laid Bathroom Tile, and a Second Wind: How Rita’s Life Changed at 53 When a Homeless Stranger with Sapphire Eyes Built Her Happiness and Challenged Her Son’s Inheritance Plans

– Excuse me, sir, please dont push. Oh, goodness. Is that smell coming from you? – Sorry, the man muttered,...

З життя8 години ago

Mother-in-Law Anna Peters was sitting in her kitchen, watching the milk quietly simmering on the stove. She had forgotten to stir it three times already, each time remembering too late: the milk would froth, spill over, and she would clean the stove irritably with a cloth. In those moments she felt it keenly: it wasn’t really about the milk. Ever since her second grandchild was born, everything in the family seemed to derail. Her daughter grew tired, thinner, and quieter. Her son-in-law came home late, ate in silence, sometimes heading straight to the bedroom. Anna saw this and thought: how can you just leave a woman to cope alone? She spoke up. At first gently, then more sharply. First to her daughter, then to her son-in-law. And then she noticed something strange: after she spoke, the house didn’t feel lighter, but heavier. Her daughter defended her husband, he grew gloomier, and Anna returned home with a sinking feeling that once again, she hadn’t done things right. That day she went to see their vicar, not for advice, but because there was nowhere else to go with this feeling. “I suppose I’m just not a good person,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “I always do things wrong.” The vicar was sitting at his desk, writing. He set his pen aside. “Why do you think that?” Anna shrugged. “I tried to help. Instead, I only seem to make everyone angry.” He looked at her attentively, but without judgment. “You’re not a bad person. You’re just exhausted. And very anxious.” She sighed. That rang true. “I’m so worried for my daughter,” she said. “She’s so different since the baby. And him…” She waved a hand. “It’s like he doesn’t even notice.” “Do you notice what he does?” the vicar asked. Anna thought for a moment. She remembered how, last week, he washed the dishes late at night when he thought no one saw. How on Sunday he took the pram out for a walk, even though he looked as if he’d rather collapse into bed. “He does help… I suppose,” she replied doubtfully. “But not the way he should.” “And what way is that?” the vicar asked gently. Anna wanted to reply at once, but realised she didn’t know. She could only think: more, better, more attentively. But what, exactly, was hard to explain. “I just want things to be easier for her,” she said. “Then say that,” the vicar replied quietly. “Not to him, but to yourself.” She looked at him. “What do you mean?” “I mean you’re not fighting for your daughter — you’re fighting her husband. And fighting means being tense. That exhausts everyone: you, and them.” Anna was silent for a long while. Then she asked, “So what should I do? Pretend everything’s fine?” “No,” he replied. “Just do what helps. Not words, but actions. And not against someone, but for someone.” On her way home, she thought over his words. Remembered how, when her daughter was a little girl, she would just sit beside her quietly if she cried — never lecturing. Why was it different now? The next day, she arrived unannounced. She brought soup. Her daughter was surprised; her son-in-law embarrassed. “I won’t stay long,” Anna said. “Just wanted to help.” She watched the children while her daughter slept. Left quietly, without a word about how hard things were, or what they ought to do. The next week, she came again. And again, the week after. She still noticed that her son-in-law was far from perfect. But she began to see other things: the way he gently picked up the baby, how at night he tucked a blanket around her daughter when he thought no one was looking. One day, in the kitchen, she couldn’t help herself and asked him, “Is it hard for you right now?” He looked startled, as if no one had ever asked before. “It’s hard,” he answered, after a pause. “Very.” And nothing more. But something sharp in the air between them was gone. Anna realised she’d been waiting for him to change. But it needed to start with her. She stopped discussing him with her daughter. When her daughter complained, she didn’t say “I told you so.” She just listened. Sometimes she took the children to give her daughter a break. Sometimes she called her son-in-law to ask how things were. It wasn’t easy. It was much easier to stay angry. But gradually, the house grew quieter. Not better, not perfect — just quieter. Free of endless tension. One day her daughter said, “Mum, thank you for being with us now, not against us.” Anna thought about those words for a long time. She understood something simple: reconciliation doesn’t come from someone admitting they’re wrong. It comes when someone is willing to stop fighting first. She still wanted her son-in-law to be more attentive. That wish hadn’t gone away. But alongside it lived something more important: for her family to have peace. And every time the old feeling — frustration, resentment, the urge to criticise — rose up, she asked herself: Do I want to be right, or do I want to make things easier for them? Almost always, the answer showed her what to do next.

Mother-in-Law Margaret Williams sat in the kitchen, her eyes resting on the saucepan of milk gently simmering on the hob....

З життя8 години ago

Excuse Me, Sir, Please Don’t Push—Oh, Is That Smell Coming From You? A Chance Encounter, a Perfectly Laid Bathroom Tile, and a Second Wind: How Rita’s Life Changed at 53 When a Homeless Stranger with Sapphire Eyes Built Her Happiness and Challenged Her Son’s Inheritance Plans

– Excuse me, sir, please dont push. Oh, goodness. Is that smell coming from you? – Sorry, the man muttered,...

З життя9 години ago

“My Grandchildren Only See Fresh Fruit Once a Month, But She Buys Expensive Food for Her Cats!”: My Daughter-in-Law Accuses Me of Being Cold-Hearted for Putting My Pets First, but I Won’t Let Her Guilt Me into Supporting Their Growing Family

My grandchildren only see fresh fruit once a month, yet she spends a fortune on fancy cat food, my daughter-in-law...

З життя9 години ago

Oxana, Are You Busy? – A Festive New Year’s Eve Tale of Family, Holiday Hustle, a Mishap in the Snow, and an Unexpected Encounter with a Doctor That Changed Everything

Annie, are you busy? her mum calls, poking her head through the door to her daughters room. Just a second,...