This was one of those chapters I wrote, read, deleted and started again. Hope its satisfactory
"There's a moving van next door." Beryl announced from behind her frying pan as Elsie stumbled, bleary eyed, into the kitchen.
"You mean that dreadful man is finally moving out?" She asked through a yawn
Over the last few months, Elsie and their neighbor had clashed several times over anything and everything. It had started when he accused her of playing loud music at night. She had retaliated by informing him that she was the wrong side of forty and most certainly was not playing loud music. Since then, her dog was too loud (they didn't own a dog. Only a cat called Penny.) She had moved the fence between them effectively stealing a foot of his land, and had turned the hose on his washing. She had indeed done the last one, but she wasn't going to admit it to him.
It always resulted in a long argument over the fence until she came inside, red faced, hoarse from shouting and extremely angry. Beryl pleaded with her to leave him alone. The village gossips had dubbed him a dangerous man and she feared that one day Elsie would push him too far. Elsie responded that she was more than happy to leave him alone, if only he would stop being so ridiculous. Eventually Beryl would sigh, hand her a cup of tea, and peer through the lace curtains.
Beryl passed her a plate of eggs and nodded
"I wonder who'll be moving in" Elsie mused
"Well it can't get any worse can it? At least I won't have to worry about you being murdered in the back garden."
Elsie gave noncommittal grunt and delved into her eggs. Beryl eyed her carefully.
"What?" She eventually asked irritably
"Just thinking. I hope you're planning on changing out of those ratty pajamas before you go to work."
"Of course I am."
"Well in that case, you're late." Elsie looked up at the kitchen clock, swore and vanished into her bedroom, leaving half her eggs and a very amused Beryl behind.
After doing one or two crappy secretarial jobs, which she got fired from after a number of days, for not paying an adequate amount of attention (it was pure boredom), she'd finally landed a job working at a woman's magazine writing articles about why white was the colour to wear this spring and how a woman found her stolen baby seven years later. She would have been happier writing articles about slightly more important things but the job paid well, and her boss, Martha Levinson, was a lovely woman despite her brashness. Becky was receiving the best possible care and if she had wanted, she could have gotten a place of her own if she'd wanted to. But she was happy sharing with Beryl and it suited them both. Beryl was starting her own little restaurant, only doing dinners for the moment, so she was home most of the day and out at night so they never really got in one anothers way. Besides, Elsie's cooking was no where near has wonderful as Beryl's.
"I'm off" She announced, returning to the kitchen, laptop in one arm, her make-up bag in the other. She had indeed changed out of her 'ratty' pajamas as Beryl called them, and was dressed in a simple black pant suit.
"Ta" Beryl said, not looking up from the cookbook she was reading. Elsie rolled her eyes and made her way to the front door.
As she was getting into her car, she noticed something odd. The moving men were carrying furniture into the house rather than out. Normally that wouldn't bother her, but she knew for a fact that there hadn't been a moving van moving Mr Greene out. Did this mean he had someone moving in with him? She groaned at the thought. One of them was bad enough. Her phone beeped and she glanced down to find a text from Beryl.
'You're already 15 minutes late.'
Right you are Bee.
)O(
You're home early" Beryl observed when she walked in that afternoon
"Its Friday." Elsie informed her "and Martha wanted to leave early, so she kicked us all out the office. Any news on our new neighbour?"
"Nope. The moving van left about two hours ago. The estate agent shortly after that."
"So he's definitely moved out then?"
"He has. I tried talking to Mr Branson but he refused to tell me who the new people are. Apparently, Mr Greene piled everything into his car this morning and left, leaving the place in a dreadful state."
"I bet he was running from the police."
"None of that." Beryl warned "you're not marching down to the cop shop to find out, nor and you questioning the new people. You'll only annoy them."
"Fine" Elsie sighed. She didn't mean to be inquisitive. It was just her nature. Unfortunately, Beryl knew it. Which explained why she shot Elsie a stern look before gathering her stuff and announcing she was off. She seemed to be leaving earlier and earlier these days. Elsie wondered if there was something to that.
'Elsie stop it!' She scolded herself and headed to her bedroom to change. She had just settled down with a glass of wine, a plate of curry that Beryl had left for her and the tv remote when the door bell rang. Grumbling to herself, she got up to answer it. To her surprise she opened her door to none other than Charles Carson.
"Mr Carson" she breathed in surprise, wishing to god she had thought to put her dressing gown on over her old holey shirt and tracky bottoms. "What on earth are you doing here?"
"Ms Hughes?" He asked, seemingly as surprised as she was. "I've just moved in next door."
"Oh. That's nice. Little late to come and introduce yourself to the neighbours isn't it?"
Charles flushed slightly,
"Er yes. The thing is, my niece forgot she was supposed to be selling cookies to raise funds for her girl guides troop and their meeting is tomorrow." He explained. A young girl stepped out from behind his large frame, clutching a box of biscuits, and turning red to the roots of her hair. She had dark brown hair, that someone had done up into two pigtails, using different coloured bobbles, large blue eyes, pink cheeks, and a gap toothed smile.
"Hello there" Elsie said, smiling at the young girl.
"I didn't forget!" The young girl said reproachfully "Mary and Edith promised and promised they'd help me but they never did."
"Well why didn't you go by yourself Sybil?" Mr Carson asked gently. The young girl looked up at him in horror
"Wander the streets by myself? Mama would never allow that!" She exclaimed before turning her attention back to Elsie "would you like some?"
Before Elsie could answer another man appeared at their door.
"Is Beryl here?" He asked. He was quite a small man, with a handle bar mustache and twinkling eyes.
"I'm afraid not, Mr..."
"Mason" the man supplied "Bill Mason."
"You just missed her. She'll be down at the restaurant by now."
Bill Mason swore and Mr Carson hastely covered Sybil's ears
"Excuse me Mister" Sybil piped up "I don't think that word is very nice. Besides, we were here first."
"Sybil!" Mr Carson exclaimed reproachfully and both Elsie and Bill laughed.
"Right you are Missy, I'll just be off." Bill said turning to go
"She'll be around tomorrow" Elsie called after him.
"Na, I'll catch her down at her place. Thanks though" he called back and with a wave, he was gone. Sybil, satisfied she had Elsie's attention again, shook her box and asked again what Elsie would like.
"Why don't you tell me what you've got and I'll decide" she suggested, crouching down to the girls level and smiling as Sybil rattled off names. Glancing up at Mr Carson she saw he too was gazing at his niece with adoration. It was clear she held a special place in his heart and once again Elsie was surprised by him. She would never have guessed that he would be fond of children. He seemed to her to be a man who loved routine and order. Children were very good at destroying both those items. Yet Sybil had him wrapped around her little finger.
"Ms Hughes? Are you even listening to me?" Sybil demanded
"Of course I am." She hadn't been, not really but she'd heard the start of the list "I tell you what. I'll buy three boxes of the chocolate ones from you if you promise not to tell my flat mate. Okay?"
"Okay." Sybil said happily and Elsie stepped inside to retrieve her purse. Once the exchange had been completed and Sybil was carefully counting her money, Elsie stood upright again to talk to Mr Carson
"Well, I suppose I should say welcome to the neighborhood Mr Carson."
He responded with a crooked smile
"Thank you Ms Hughes."
Your love is my drug! And don't you worry, we'll be moving more swiftly into Chelsie land next chapter.