My Neighbour Mabel

 

by Alison Proud

a cup of tea

‘Ah that’s great news and yes we will accept their offer.’ I ended the call and put my phone back in my pocket. ‘Stu, that was the estate agent, that couple who came to see our house yesterday have offered the asking price.’

‘I hope you accepted it?’ Stu replied. ‘Of course, I did!’ I said.

           I finished making my cup of tea, picked up my book, went outside and walked down to my favourite spot at the end of the garden. I sat on the swinging seat, where I sit every day when the sun shines. With summer here now it’s the perfect place to read a few chapters. As I look back up the garden towards our home, I feel a twinge of sadness, it’s great that our house sold so quickly, but we’ve been here for ten years now, and I’ve really loved living here. If it wasn’t for Stu’s job change and relocation we’d never have considered leaving. But the job offer was too good for him to turn down, so we are off to the south coast in a few months’ time. The house we’re buying is lovely and so close to the sea, which will be a novelty for us having lived in the Midlands for such a long time. I’m sure we’ll love it, but it’ll still be hard to leave here.
          I’ve put such a lot of work into our garden, planned the plants carefully, so there are many shapes, sizes, and colours all around the edges. The summer house is painted and decorated tastefully and even our two sheds look pretty with the climbers on their sides. The lawn has been maintained well and the grass looks lush and green. We get many bird visitors too because I’ve always had food out for them. I could watch them for hours and listen to their little tunes as they talk to each other. Yes I will miss this garden.
          Having read a couple of chapters, I look up from my book to see Mabel from next door, slowly walking down her garden towards her old shed, her little dog following behind her. She goes there most days and spends hours inside. We have a small three foot fence in between our gardens,. I planted Safflower seeds in front of it, a yellow orange thistle like plant which is part of the sunflower family. They have grown quite tall, but I can still see the side of Mabel’s old shed and I see her through the window most days, but I’ve never quite worked out what she does in there. I shouted ‘Hello,’ and asked her how she is, mentioned the lovely sunshine and smiled. She looked my way but didn’t reply.
          She’s a funny old lady, never speaks and no matter how hard I try to start a conversation across the gardens, she just stares blankly at me. Stu says she probably just likes her own company. I’ve actually never seen her leave her house. Her daughter visits occasionally, she always says hello when she’s in the garden. She introduced herself once; that’s how I know she’s her daughter and how I found out her mother’s name is Mabel, but I think she lives a long way away, so she’s not here much.
          Mabel’s shopping is delivered to her, and I think she may have a meals on wheels service some days. During COVID, I tried knocking on her door to see if she needed anything, I asked her a few times across the garden too, but I got no response: sometimes a slight smile but no words. I had to resort in putting a note through her door in the end. It’s such a shame and I really don’t understand why she ignores me. I’m not that bad a neighbour. She could have a lot worse. I really hope we have more friendly neighbours when we move to the coast.
         

Mabel opened the door to her shed and went inside. The light here was good today because the sun was shining. She closed the door behind Pepper, her little miniature poodle, took her apron off the hook on the back of the door and put it on. She gathered what she needed from the wonky shelves and sat in her chair and carried on from where she left off yesterday. A few more weeks and she’d be finished. She hoped it would be done in time.
          Her days were much the same: a weekly shopping delivery on a Monday, meals delivered on a Wednesday and Friday, her only real contact with anyone in the outside world. Oh, but not forgetting her visits from Sarah, her daughter, although with her living in London, she couldn’t really come that often. But she had Pepper, he kept her company and he seemed quite happy to potter round the garden and not go out anywhere.
          Most days as Mabel walked down to her shed, she saw Louise, her neighbour. She only knew her name because during COVID she had popped a note through her door offering help if she needed it. Louise always sat in her swinging chair at the bottom of her garden opposite Mabel’s shed. Most days she’d be reading her book with a cup of tea by her side or a glass of wine if it was later in the day. Louise always waved and spoke to her. Mabel liked Louise a lot and she had been sad to see the for sale sign go up at the front of their house and even more so when the man had added the word sold to the sign yesterday afternoon. She wondered who would move in next.

Two Months Later…….

The house sale had gone through really quickly and today was crazy inside our house. There were boxes everywhere and men from the removal company were in and out with furniture. Stu could see that I was getting stressed. ‘Go out into the garden,’ he told me, ‘I’ll tell you when all of this is done and we are ready to leave.’
          I did as I was told, relieved to escape from the mayhem inside the house. I walked down to my lovely seat on the swinging chair.  We had decided not to take it with us as it was old and might not survive the journey. Plus, the Mackenzies, who were moving in here, had said they would love to have it. I looked up towards the house, taking in all the colours of the garden I had cultivated over the years. I smiled, determined not to get emotional before we left here. After all, exciting times were ahead, living by the sea.
          I looked across to Mabel’s garden. Through the lovely array of golden colours from my Safflowers, I could see the old lady through the window of her old shed. I watched as she came out of the door and struggled to carry something up the garden back to her house. I wondered whether to go round to her house and say goodbye. ‘Louise, we’re ready, it’s all packed up. It’s time to leave here,’ Stu shouted from the back door.
          Soon we were in the car and just as we were about to leave, there was a tap at the back seat window. I looked round and there was Mabel. I got out of the car and Mabel handed me a large framed picture, I turned it round. it was a painting. As I looked more closely at it, I realised it was my garden, the colours of my flowers beautifully painted, and then I recognised myself sitting on the swinging chair, book in hand and cup of tea on the grass below. Mabel had signed the painting in the corner.
          ‘Oh Mabel,’ I said, ‘it’s beautiful.’ A tear dropped onto the glass. ‘I really don’t know what to say but thank you so much.’
          Still the old lady said nothing. I couldn’t help myself, I stepped forward and hugged Mabel. Pepper barked, he wanted me to let go, so I stepped back again.
          Mabel smiled and slowly pointed her finger to her chest, then to her chin and then towards me. She pointed to the back of the picture, to where she had written the words ‘I’ll miss you’.

About the author 

I have a passion for writing and attend a creative writing class. We write short stories each week and I am also writing my own novel. I get my ideas for stories when I am out in the countryside walking my dog, that's when my imagination is at its best!

Buckets & Spades

 by Alison Proud

a blue raspberry Slushie

 

It is 8 o’clock on a sunny Saturday morning in June, Mabel walks to the door, unlocks it and turns the sign around. The Bucket and Spade beach cafe is open again for another day of business.

Mabel and her husband George have owned the cafe in the little coastal town of Biddlington, for many years. It is popular with both the locals and the holidaymakers, and they are busy all year round. Inside there are twelve table,s each with a pretty tablecloth, a vase with a fresh flower and the cafe menu. The chairs have spindle backs and a cushion to match the tablecloth. It is a little old-fashioned, very much like Mabel and George. On the shelves at the back of the cafe are rows of coloured plastic buckets and spades. Mabel and George hire these out by the day.

During the summer, Mabel and George’s grandchildren come to stay. Olivia and William love being here.  It is the perfect place to be during the holidays. William enjoys helping George in the kitchen because he wants to be a chef when he’s older and Olivia loves arranging all the buckets and spades on the shelves after she has cleaned them all when they are returned at the end of the day. She decided to give every bucket and spade a name, which amused Mabel so much that she asked her friend who is a printer, to engrave the names on them all.

This afternoon as Olivia was cleaning the returned buckets and spades, she said ‘Nanny, I think Bluey the spade is sad’.

 ‘Really’ said Nanny, ‘why do you think that’? 

‘Dunno, it’s just a feeling’ replied Olivia. 

Mabel smiled.  ‘You have just the best imagination’. She turned the sign around on the door, locked it and they went home for tea.

 

‘What’s up with you Bluey, you’ve not been yourself for a while now, I’m worried about you’ said Piggy the pink bucket. ‘I want to build sandcastles’, said Bluey. ‘I’ve seen you doing that on the beach’, said Piggy. ‘No, you’ve seen me start to do that, but the boys always lose interest and just leave me lying there on the sand all day, I’m bored of it Piggy.  It’s been going on for too long. It’s alright for you, always getting picked by the girls. They make sandcastles all day’. 

      ‘Well, what are you going to do about it Bluey’, Piggy said. ‘I don’t know, I’m blue.  It’s a boy’s colour.  How can I change that’, Bluey replied.

The next day at the beach Piggy watched Bluey get left on the sand just as he had said, while Ben who had hired him for the day, played in the sea with his friends.

That night after Olivia put them back on the shelves and Mabel locked up the cafe, Piggy told Bluey she had a plan. ‘We need to change things’ she said. ‘You want to build sandcastles this summer’? she asked him. 

‘Yes, I do’ said Bluey ‘but it’ll never happen’. 

‘Yes, it will, if we have a plan’ Piggy told him.

 ‘Jump into my bucket’ she said. ‘Then when a little girl picks me tomorrow, she’ll take you too’.

When Maisie came into the cafe the next morning, her mum took Piggy from the shelf. ‘Mummy’ Maisie screamed as her mum went to pay the hire fee, ‘I don’t want to have a blue spade, I want a pink one or a yellow one’. Mabel told her she could swap it and Bluey was taken from the bucket and put back on the shelf. As Olivia drank her juice, she felt sorry for Bluey, but a little later a boy called Harry came into the cafe and took Bluey and King the blue bucket, so she felt happier.

‘Sorry my plan didn’t work out’, Piggy said to Bluey that evening, ‘How was your day’? 

‘Awful’ said Bluey. ‘Harry had a dog and he thought I was a stick; I spent the whole day being thrown around the beach’. 

‘What shall we do next to sort this out’ Piggy said. 

‘I don’t know’, said Bluey. 

‘If you really want this to change, you have to think about how you can make it happen’, Piggy said. ‘You’re even making Olivia sad these days; I saw her face drop when Maisie put you back on the shelf this morning’. 

‘Do you really want to build sandcastles this summer’? 

‘Yes, I do’, said Bluey. 

‘What difference is going to make if you do’? Piggy asked. Bluey thought about this. 

‘I’ll be happier, I’ll feel like I’ve taken part in something, I’ll be proud of how fine the sandcastle looks, I’ll have had fun and life will just feel exciting’. 

‘Right, so think about how you can make this happen’, Piggy told him.

On Monday, the cafe is closed and because it was  raining George decided it would be a good idea to do some decorating. 

            ‘I’m going to paint the shelves’ he told Mabel. 

             ‘But they are plastic George’, she replied. 

           ‘I have special paint for that.' George grinned. 

            While William was busy in the kitchen helping Mabel make cakes for the cafe. Olivia was feeling a bit bored. 

           ‘Can I help you paint Grandad’? 

          ‘Sure, you can, grab a brush’, he said. 

            ‘Can I paint one of the shelves yellow please Grandad’? 

           ‘Yes, why not, I had thought about doing them in different colours. Grab that pot over there, I think that’s the yellow one’, he replied. He helped her to open it, gave her some gloves to wear and got her a chair to stand on so she could reach the bottom shelf.

As she climbed onto the chair there was a loud bang followed by a splosh. ‘Oh no Grandad, Bluey has fallen off the shelf into the paint pot’! 

‘Quick’, he said ‘take him to Mabel to run under the tap before the paint dries’. 

Olivia plucked Bluey out of the paint pot and said ‘Actually wearing yellow might just cheer him up Grandad.  I think I’ll leave him to dry. I don’t know how he fell off the shelf, I didn’t knock him’. 

‘Maybe he jumped’ said Grandad with a grin. 

After lunch Olivia checked to see if Bluey was dry. ‘Nanny, can I borrow a black pen please, I’m going to draw Bluey a face’. She drew eyes, a nose, a smiley face, and whiskers.

‘Did you jump into that pot of paint Bluey?, Piggy asked that night when they were safely back on the newly painted shelves. 

‘I did’ he replied. ‘I just kept thinking about what I said to you about how I would feel if I could build sandcastles every day and I seized the moment to make a change that might just make it happen. Girls like yellow, I think’. 

‘Brilliant’ said Piggy.

The sun was shining again on Tuesday morning and Mabel had just opened the cafe. Maisie and her mum came in to buy some cakes to take the beach with them. 

           ‘Which bucket and spade would you like today Maisie’ her mum asked. ‘Please can I have the pink bucket and that yellow spade with the smiley cat face’.

Bluey and Piggy helped Maisie build the best sandcastle on the beach that day.  It had towers, a moat and even flags. Everyone who went past told Maisie how fabulous it looked.

That evening after Mabel and Olivia had washed off the sand from all the buckets and spades and put them back on the shelves ready for tomorrow, Olivia told Nanny that she was sure Bluey was much happier now. ‘Do you need to change his name now he’s yellow Olivia’ Nanny asked. 

           ‘No, he’s only wearing yellow, silly Nanny.'  Olivia giggled. ‘He’s still Bluey inside’.

Mabel turned the sign around and locked the cafe door. ‘Is that you I can hear purring Bluey’, Piggy whispered. ‘It is’ he replied.

 

About the author 

I have a passion for writing and attend a creative writing class. We write short stories each week and I am also writing my own novel. I get my ideas for stories when I am out in the countryside walking my dog. That's when my imagination is at its best!

In A World Where You Can Be Anything Be Kind – the next chapter

 

by Alison Proud

a pot of English Breakfast tea

 
Dale woke up, something had hit him in the face.  He removed the newspaper to see his mum standing over him.  ‘Better not have been your lot involved in that old woman’s death’ she shouted and slammed out of his bedroom.  ‘What does she care’ he thought?  He got up and headed into town to get himself some breakfast, no food in the house as usual.

     He walked to the arcade, but his ‘friends’ no longer gathered there, not after the incident with the old lady.  Jack had recovered from his stab wound, paid Leo the money he owed him, and everyone was a gang again, but they got together on the other side of town now.  He would go over there later but this morning he needed to do something first.

     Henry was up early this morning; in fact, he had not slept much at all and he felt tired.  He made a cup of tea and sat at the table in the kitchen.  The basket of tulips that were left on his doorstep the day before brightened up the room and reminded him of his beloved Joyce.  He missed her so much but somehow those flowers made him feel closer to her.  He wondered who had left them for him.  Maybe it was the man in the shop where he bought his newspaper.  He drank his tea and then set off to thank him.

     Dale felt relief as he saw him.  He watched him walk through the arcade and into the newsagents and then leave again with his newspaper under his arm.  He wondered how he was feeling and coping without his wife.  He wanted to ask him if he was OK, if there was anything he could do to help.  Instead, he stayed tucked away, watching him from a distance.

     Henry was really puzzled because the man in the newsagents had said he knew nothing about the flowers.  He thought about asking in the supermarket but there were so many people working there, no one would remember yesterday’s purchases.  He made his way home and sat himself down to read the paper. 

     Dale went into the supermarket to get some food, he was starving.  At the till he handed over the sandwich and a bunch of flowers.  ‘£7.50 please’ said the lady. Damn. He only had a fiver.  ‘I’ll have to put this back’ he said to her.  He was angry when he left the shop, if his mum had food in the house instead of just wine and cigarettes, he would have been able to buy both.

     For the first time in a long while, Henry had switched on the television.  Neither he nor Joyce were ever really that interested in watching anything, but now the noise made him feel less lonely.  It had been a long day, but night-time was finally here, and Henry decided to go to bed early.  When he went to check the front door was locked, he noticed a piece of paper hanging out of the letterbox.  ‘I’ve left you something, I hope you are OK,’ was scribbled on the paper.  He opened the front door and picked up the yellow tulips from the doorstep.

     Every day after that, more yellow tulips were left at Henry’s flat.  The rooms were bursting full of colour and he felt like Joyce was still with him.  If only he knew who was being so kind, he desperately wanted to thank them.  One day he even sat in his doorway all morning and afternoon, determined to see who was bringing the flowers.  They arrived overnight on that occasion, after he had given up waiting and gone to bed!

     Dale had not eaten for days; he was spending his money on the flowers for the old man.  His mum had kicked him out when she found out about Jack’s stabbing and he was sleeping rough now.  He wanted to buy himself food, but he had to keep on getting the flowers. The old lady had bought them every day and she was gone because of his gang, so it was his responsibility to keep up her routine.  This afternoon he bought the flowers, but he did not feel good, so instead of taking them to the old man’s house he put them on the ground next to his makeshift home in the doorway of a disused shop and slept.

     Yesterday the tulips had not appeared at Henry’s flat and when he left to go and get his paper the following morning, he was surprised to not see them left on the doorstep overnight.  The tulips (always yellow ones) had been arriving every day for a long time and had helped Henry to smile again.  So, today he felt a twinge of sadness that maybe it was going to stop now, and he would never find out who had been so caring and thoughtful to do this for him.

     Henry bought his paper.  On the way out of the arcade, he stopped as something caught his eye, something yellow.  Next to one of the homeless types in a shop doorway were some flowers, a bunch of flowers......yellow tulips.  His yellow tulips, Joyce’s yellow tulips, the yellow tulips that were not delivered yesterday.  Henry walked over and bent down to pick them up.  Dale opened his eyes and saw the old man. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I didn’t feel well enough to bring them to you yesterday.'  

Henry asked the lad when he had last eaten, and Dale could not remember how long it had been.  ‘How have you been able to buy these flowers every day?’ Henry asked.  

‘I use the money people give me’, said Dale and pointed to the plastic pot next to the homeless note in front of him.
 

‘I have bacon at home young man, come with me and I’ll make you breakfast’.  

 

Henry held out his hand and helped Dale to his feet.

About the author 

Alison has a passion for writing and attends a creative writing class. They write short stories each week and she is also writing a novel. She gets ideas for stories when she is out in the countryside walking her dog. That's when her imagination is at its best!