My Neighbour

I was half-asleep and sat in one of our garden chairs. My legs rested on the seat of another as I felt the pain in my back. I’d only sat down to take a breather from hanging the washing on the line, but I must have drifted off. I don’t know how long I had been sleeping, but I woke to the sound of music drifting across the fence that separated the two properties. I could hear our neighbour, Bill, softly singing along to the song.

I groaned as I pulled myself out of the chair, my hands on my engorged belly, as I struggled to get out of the chair. The music was turned off, and I saw his head appear as he looked over the fence, clearly alerted by the sound of me struggling to stand.

“Hey there, Lucy, how are you feeling today?” He looked at me, his eyes friendly and genuinely caring.

“I’m a little tired. It seemed like a good idea to put a wash on when I woke up this morning, now, not so much.” I forced a smile, inhaled deeply, then walked towards the line to complete the job of hanging up the freshly washed clothes.

“You sit back down! I’ll come and do that for you.” He said, his voice carried the authority of a man who had served in the military. It wasn’t an order as such, but I’d known him long enough that my protests would be in vain. And, they were, as I began to protest, I looked up, but he was already on his way down the side of his house and headed for our garden. I eased myself back into the garden chair and rested my hands on my belly, feeling both disappointed that I couldn’t perform the simplest of tasks and grateful that I didn’t have to.

My name is Lucy, and I am thirty-two. I work as a nurse at the local hospital. I am married to Paul, who is a couple of years older, and I am twenty-eight weeks pregnant, with twins, our first children.

Bill has been our neighbour since we moved in. He is a widower, his lovely wife Anne died three years ago. They were so helpful to us both when we moved here. He must be about forty-eight because we were invited to his fortieth birthday the year we moved here, and that was eight years ago.

I could hear his footsteps as he walked through the gate at the front of the garden and up the path. As he walked onto the grass, he let out a deep sigh that felt heavy with disappointment.

“How many times have I told you, Lucy? I am here to help out when Paul is away. You just have to ask.” He said, his voice sounded a little disappointed that I hadn’t asked him this time.

I was going to tell him that I was fine, and that I could manage, but my protest would have lacked belief, as I was clumped in the chair, and wincing from the kicking that was currently going on inside my stomach.

Bill began to hang up the remaining washing, shaking his head slowly as he did. “I’ve told you, Lucy, just call me and I will come and do the heavy stuff for you; we can’t have you lumping around these heavy loads of washing, not in your condition.”

I smiled up at him. He was so helpful, always running errands for me. I am very fond of him, although the same cannot be said of my husband, Paul. He thinks that Bill is ‘over-friendly’, and that it feels creepy that a man his age is so helpful to someone old enough to be his daughter. I always protested and defended Billt. I told him that he wasn’t that old, and I said that he is just a nice, genuine guy, and we should be grateful for his help, what with Paul working away so much. But Paul wouldn’t have it, so they kept their distance, and when they did have to meet, it was always civil, but definitely not friendly.

Me? I like Bill, I really like him, he is a lovely man, a great listener, and a good friend to me. He soon had all the washing hung out on the line, all neatly pegged and evenly spaced, the military precision that had dominated his life still there.

He looked down at me, smiling. “I could do with a cold drink, want one?” He asked.

I nodded, I had a real thirst, and as I started to pull myself up, he held out his hand, no words, a gesture, and I lowered myself back into the chair. He turned and walked into the kitchen. It was a place that he was very familiar with, and where we had spent many hours chatting, laughing, and crying. It was a place where we had talked for hours after his wife died, and he had thanked me afterwards, claiming that I had been instrumental in getting him through that difficult period in his life.

He returned with a glass of squash, two ice-cubes floated in the cold, orange liquid. I took it gratefully, thanked him, and took a long, slow drink. He sat on the chair beside me, and we talked.

That’s the thing about Bill, he loved to talk, and not about himself, he hated that, actually, but he would ask me about my life, my health, and he was genuinely interested in all of it. He asked how I was feeling, and about the babies, or ‘the precious ones’ as he called them. I loved talking to him about all this, because Paul, well, he wasn’t interested. He was always too tired or too busy to talk to me these days.

I don’t know how long we’d been talking, but I needed to go to the loo. He helped me up, and I winced, holding my back. He immediately slid his arm around me and helped me into the house, walking me slowly inside.

I came out of the bathroom and found him sitting in the kitchen. He smiled and pushed out a chair. I sat.

“Tea?” He said, already standing and walking over to the kettle.

I nodded, “Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Although they didn’t really get on, Bill would always ask about Paul, about him and his work, we both knew that the problem between them didn’t lie with Bill. He asked about his work and how he was doing.

“Is he excited about the new arrivals?” He asked.

I stared at the floor, my feet to be exact. My ayes stared at my swollen ankles, and I rotated my feet to try to loosen them.

“Lucy? Did you hear me?”

I looked up, I could feel my eyes filling with tears, I was desperately fighting them, he noticed immediately and came and sat down, he took my hand.

“What is it, Lucy? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

I tried to hold back the tears, but I couldn’t, and I sobbed. He pulled his chair beside mine and wrapped me in his arms and held me. I leaned my head on his neck and just sobbed. When I finally stopped, he handed me a tissue, and I wiped my eyes. He poured two cups of tea and turned his chair to face mine.

“What brought that on, Lucy? Was it something I said?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s nothing really.”

Of course, he didn’t buy it, none of it. I took a drink of my tea and then a deep breath, then I looked at him.

“Paul doesn’t want the babies,” I said softly, my lips trembling as I spoke the words out loud for the first time to anyone.

He stared in disbelief. “No! I can’t believe that Lucy.”

I shook my head.“It’s true, he doesn’t want them.” I lowered my head, sniffing back more tears. “And, if I’m honest, I don’t think that wants me.”

He stroked his hand over my back as he held me. “Come on, Lucy, is it just the hormones? It’s natural to get mood swings.”

I shook my head. “You don’t understand, Bill, he hasn’t wanted me for a long time, if ever.”

Bill was silent. I could tell that, as close as we were, and everything that we have shared, he didn’t know what to say.

I bit my lip, “he hasn’t touched me since I told him I was pregnant.” I closed my eyes as I looked down, surprised that I had revealed something that personal. A silence hung in the air for what seemed like minutes, but was probably only a couple of seconds, the time it took Bill to compose his response.

“Maybe, maybe he is afraid that he might hurt the babies. You know, some men don’t really understand how strong women are, and maybe he’s only thinking of you all?” Even he didn’t sound convinced by what he was saying.

“No, that’s not it,” I sighed. I lifted my head and looked at him. “He has hardly touched me in the last two years.” I lowered my eyes again, amazed that I keep revealing all this personal information. But he was the first person that I had opened up to like this, and it somehow felt okay; it felt safe. I sighed and looked at him. I knew that he would listen and definitely not judge me.

He smiled and held me close. I closed my eyes and let myself relax as he slowly rocked me. “Lucy, are you sure? You have to talk to him about it?”

I nodded and sniffed back a tear. “When I told him that I was pregnant, you know what he said to me?” Bill shook his head, looking at me. “He said, " Is it mine?”

Bill stared at me. I could see that he was shocked, but I thought I saw something else in his eyes, anger. I continued.

“And when I told him that it was twins, he said, and I quote, ’fuck! Two mouths to feed!”

I began to cry again, and Bill pulled me into his arms again and held me, tighter this time as if he was wrapping a protective cordon around me, he gently stroked his fingers over my head whilst whispering that it would be okay,

“Listen, Lucy. Waiting for your first child, or children in your case, is a stressful time. I am sure that Paul will be as happy as any father when the girls arrive.”

I sniffed and sat up, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my dress. I shook my head. “No, no, he won’t, my sister told me that he had been talking with her husband, who said to him that he was lucky to have such an attractive wife, about to give him two beautiful children, he said, “how can anyone find that attractive? She is enormous!”

Bill slowly lifted my face, he wiped tears from my cheeks with his fingers, which I noticed were trembling slightly, and looked into my eyes.

“I think that you look beautiful, I think that you were beautiful before you got pregnant, and the fact that you are carrying life around inside you, that makes you more beautiful than ever.” He paused and brushed a finger softly across my cheek again.

“I remember when Anne was pregnant, I could hardly keep my hands off her; in fact, she and I had sex the night before our first son was born.”

He stared deep into my eyes as he said it. I smiled. “Thank you, Bill.”

He smiled at me, “Yeah, if you were my wife then.” He stopped himself

before he could finish.

I waited, I wanted him to say it, but he was embarrassed, and I began to blush. I was embarrassed, too.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

I leaned closer and kissed his cheek, “Thank you.”

We regained our composure and finished our cup of tea. He had composed himself, and he stood, clapping his hands together.

“Okay, you’ve done enough work here for today. I’m taking you out for lunch,” he announced. It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a decision.

We drove down to the river, one of my favourite spots, and somewhere we have had many meals in the past. The food was always good, the views were gorgeous, and it was a lovely day, which meant we could sit outside and watch and listen to the sights and sounds of the river.

We enjoyed a lovely lunch, we sat outside looking out onto the river, I had a lovely fresh salad and just relaxed, and enjoyed being out, in the sunshine, with someone who listened, and made me feel like I was important. It was one of the most enjoyable days that I’d had in a long while, and for a short time, all of my problems seemed somehow less important.

Bill was so easy to talk to, and even easier on the eye. He might be older than me, but I can spot a good-looking guy when I see one, and I was not alone, judging by the number of admiring glances from some ladies sitting around us as we enjoyed our lunch. As I looked around us as we \ate and chatted so easily, I began to feel a little smug that he was with me, and I let my mind drift for a short while, imagining what those women were thinking when they saw the two of us together.

I was still lost in my thoughts when I heard him say my name, and I realised that he had asked me a question. I look at him, “Oh, sorry, Bill, I was miles away.” Blushing slightly as I wondered if he was able to read my thoughts. He smiled at me.

“Penny for them?” He asked.

I sighed and looked at him. “Can I ask you a personal question, Bill?”

He gave me a slightly curious look and then nodded. “Of course you can.”

I sighed. “How come you haven’t put yourself out there? I mean, you are a very attractive man.” Again, I felt my face redden slightly as I said that, and stumbled over the following few words before recovering. “What I mean is, aren’t you interested in having a new relationship?”

He held my gaze for what felt like ages, but was only a couple of seconds, then he smiled, that big, friendly smile he always gave me.

“I don’t know Lucy, that’s the truth of it. I mean, I know that Anne would not want me to spend the rest of my life alone, but,” he sighed and looked at the wedding ring, still on his left hand and rubbed the tip of his thumb across it.

“I guess, I just haven’t met anyone that fits the bill.”

He took a breath and sat upright, smiling as he picked up his glass and looked at me.

“I need to meet someone like you, Lucy.” He said, causing me to blush even more as I laughed.

After lunch, we walked along the river. It was a warm afternoon, and the sound of the flowing river and the wildlife all around us was so relaxing. I almost lost my balance a few times and had to hang onto his arm. By the time we returned to the car, he was holding my waist, and I was leaning on him more and more.

When we got home, he followed me into the garden, and without being asked, started to bring in the clothes that had now dried. I stood in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil to make us tea, and I stared out of the window and watched him. I heard the click of the kettle as it switched off, but I didn’t move. I was staring at him as he reached up to pick the clothes from the line. His jeans hugged his bum, and it looked firm, and as he walked around the garden, stretching up, I noticed that his belly, when exposed, also looked firm. Suddenly, our eyes met as he looked over, and I quickly turned away to make the tea, so embarrassed that he had caught me staring at him.

Bill had served in the army for twenty years; he’d seen service in Iraq and Afghanistan, but he rarely talked about it in detail, and from what I’d seen today and over the years, he had kept himself in shape. He was certainly in far better shape than Paul, who was a lot younger and who did go to the gym often, but I had seen very little evidence of it, physically.

Bill carried the white plastic basket containing the dry clothes inside and placed it on the kitchen table.

“Whilst I’m here, I might as well get this lot ironed.” He looked at me as I started to protest and continued. “I am not having you stand up, pushing the iron around when you don’t need to.” He gave me a look that said, ‘Don’t even think about disagreeing with me’

I nodded slowly, “Thank you, Bill.” As he assembled the ironing board and brought the iron from the cupboard, I poured us both mugs of tea, and I sat and chatted as he got to work, ironing the clothes. My eyes widened when he picked up my knickers.

“Oh, you don’t need to iron those”, I blushed.

He grinned and proceeded to iron them smooth. I shook my head, feeling my cheeks warm as I watched him iron my knickers, not my sexy ones, those didn’t fit me anymore, but more like granny knickers. He held up a pair of pink ones.

“I bet if you try these on after the babies, you’d fit your whole body into one leg.”

We laughed, even though I was so embarrassed that he had a pair of my knickers in his hand.

When he had ironed everything and neatly folded it all back in the basket, and cleared up. I kissed his cheek.

“Thank you for lunch, for the ironing, for everything. Most of all, thank you for listening, Bill. I’m sorry I put all that on you.”

He held me, his hands on my waist and looked into my eyes.

“Listen to me, Lucy, you don’t let any of that crap worry you; all you have to think about is those little beauties inside you. And if you need anything, day or night, call me. If you need to talk, if you’re upset, call me.” He kissed my forehead, “You look after yourself and that precious cargo that you are carrying.”

He placed his hand on my bump, and one of the babies kicked; he laughed, a genuine, friendly laugh.

“She’s saying, get your hands off my mum!”

He left, I sat down and sighed, then frowned, as I recognised a very familiar tingly feeling between my legs. I stood and headed for the bathroom. I needed to pee, but something deep inside told me that it wasn’t only that; I was aroused.