Your Move

The wardrobe door scrapes open and there’s an unmistakable crunching sound of drawers being carelessly opened and closed. Jane takes another sip of barely lukewarm coffee and listens to the creak of floorboards overhead as they wander from room to room.

Abandoning her half-completed crossword, she pushes the newspaper to one side and tip toes quietly across the polished tiles into the hallway. She presses herself up against the wall and holds her breath, trying to catch what they’re saying. But all she can hear are whispered voices and low muffled laughter.

Suddenly the voices grow louder, and Jane dashes noiselessly back into the kitchen, grabbing the newspaper, and spreading it open across the counter.

Distractedly she takes another mouthful of coffee and flinches. It’s completely cold and she tips the rest of it down the sink. Jane usually prefers mint tea, but her estate agent, Kirsty, had been quite insistent about buyers being enchanted by the smell of freshly ground coffee.

Jane leans against the kitchen counter and looks out across the garden. Next door’s ginger cat Rufus is stretched out along the wall soaking up the late afternoon sun and stares back at her through half closed eyes. She really can’t believe that she’s put 34 Cleveland Street up for sale. She’s been talking about downsizing for years, but now she’s finally put the rambling Victorian house on the market, she’s not so sure. She’s certainly not keen about having people tramping through her home and rifling through her belongings she thinks darkly.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the clicking sound of Mrs. Stewart’s heels as they catch on the wooden stairs. Her husband’s trainers squeak just behind her.

Walking into the hallway to meet the couple at the bottom of the staircase, Jane smooths down her unruly grey hair, almost knocking off the glasses that are balanced precariously on the top of her head.

“Well, what do you think? Is there anything that I can tell you about the house? My husband Patrick and I fell in love with the place the minute we walked in and spotted the stained-glass panels in the doors,” said Jane. “And when we ripped up the lime green carpet in the kitchen, we found the original terracotta tiles which….”

Mrs. Stewart holds up her and hand and cuts her off: “The house is fine. It just needs quite a bit of work and obviously it’s not to our taste.”

“Obviously,” said Jane digging her nails into the palm of her hand to stop her from saying anything else.

“And we have several other houses to look at, so we’ll let the agent know if we’re even interested,” said Mr. Stewart, placing his arm around his wife’s shoulder and propelling her towards the front door.

Once she hears the gate latch close, Jane stands with her back against the front door and sighs with relief. She really hopes that they won’t be the ones to buy her house.

*************************

“There’s just something I don’t like about them,” Jane tells her daughter Amy on the phone later that evening. She’s always amazed at how clear the line is considering her daughter is literally on the other side of the world in Brisbane.

“And I can still smell her awful perfume lingering in the rooms even after I’ve opened all the windows. It’s like she’s still here.”

Amy laughs: “Geez mum, talk about dramatic. At least people are coming to look at it. The sooner you sell, the sooner you can get settled into that new apartment.

“And more importantly, you can come and stay for a couple of months over your winter. We could go camping on Stradbroke Island again. The kids would love it.”

Jane isn’t particularly excited about the prospect of camping. And she’s even less keen on sharing her sleeping space with the deadly Australian wildlife – a generous glass of sherry and the latest crime novel is more her style. But it would be good to spend time with everyone and see them properly rather than through the camera lens on the iPad.

“LEAVE IT! I SAID LEAVE IT ALONE!! Sorry Mum. I’ve got to go. Jackson’s grappling with a lizard and trying to bring it into the house. I’ll call you back tomorrow,” said Amy.

Later when Jane settles down to read a few chapters of her book in bed, her mobile phone beeps. It’s a message and photo from Jackson who’s smiling happily and holding up a bright green lizard next to his face. She chuckles as reads his text: “Meet Lily! Isn’t she beautiful? I’m keeping her in my bathroom. DON’T TELL MUM!!!!!!!!!”

*************************

Jane’s eyes snap open and it takes her a moment to realize that it’s the persistent buzz of her mobile phone vibrating on the bedside table that’s woken her up.

She scrabbles for her glasses and finds them tucked between the pages of her book. As she swipes her finger across the screen, she notices that it’s only just a little after eight o’clock in the morning.

“Hello.” Her voice still sounds thick with sleep.

“Ah Mrs. Lawrence, Good morning! Hope I didn’t wake you up,” said Kirsty, not waiting for a reply. “So, Debbie and Peter have put in an offer at the full asking price but on the understanding that you take the property off the market immediately and you’re able to compete the sale in less than nine weeks.”

Jane rubs her forehead and tries to focus on what her estate agent is telling her. She still feels groggy and only half listens to snatches of the conversation.

In the background, she can hear the distracting clicking noise of a ballpoint pen cap snapping on and off and a rustle of rapidly turning pages.

“So… just looking through my diary, I think that Debbie and Peter will want to complete sometime around the first week in November,” said Kirsty. “Does that sound good to you?”

Jane pauses and thinks of all the people who have been to see the house in the last fortnight, but their names don’t sound familiar at all. Maybe Kirsty showed them round as she’d arranged a couple of viewings when Jane had been out with her walking group.

“Sorry, who are Debbie and Peter?” she asks, pushing back the crumpled duvet cover and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Oh, you know… they rang me as soon as they left. They sounded so keen! It’s Debbie and Peter…. Erm…. Stewart. Yes, that’s right. Debbie and Peter Stewart,” said Kirsty.

*************************

Jane slouches in her chair at the garden table lethargically pushing corn flakes around her cereal bowl. Not even the squirrels dancing along the branches and somersaulting between the trees can make her smile this morning. She shoves the bowl of mushy cereal to one side and reaches for her cup of tea.

She can’t understand why she dislikes the Stewarts so much. It’s not like she’s spent hours in their company – literally just a brief hello and goodbye at the doorstep. It’s not like her to be quite so irrational.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a flash of ginger and Rufus leaps over the wall and onto the patio stones next to her. Jane reaches down to rub the back of his head, and he purrs loudly and weaves in and out of the chair legs.

“I guess I just wanted to like the people who bought my house,” she confides to Rufus who has flopped onto his back and is rolling around in the sun. “Pat and I loved this place and I wanted to hand it over to another family who would love it and take proper care of it too.”

Suddenly Rufus jumps up sharply and darts across the grass, pouncing at empty air. The blackbird has only narrowly escaped his razor like claws and squawks indignantly from the branches above.

“And I just hope they like cats, Rufus” said Jane, standing up and taking her breakfast dishes inside.

*************************

“Nine weeks! Strewth! That’s not long at all,” said Amy, her voice going up at the end of her sentence. Jane smiles at her daughter’s adopted Australian twang. Sometimes her accent is so pronounced that it’s hard to believe she’s ever set foot in the UK.

“You’ll have to get a wriggle on. There can’t be too much to sort out can there. Didn’t you have a massive clear out after Dad died?” said Amy.

Jane doesn’t want to confess that her massive clear out had simply involved boxing things up and hiding them away in the loft. And the loft was already crammed full of Amy’s belongings after she’d moved back to Brisbane with Lucas.

“That reminds me, what do you want me to do with all your old artwork and those expensive oil paints?” asked Jane.

“Please tell me you didn’t keep all that stuff Mum! The paints will have gone off years ago, and I can’t remember the last time I picked up a paintbrush unless you count decorating the house. Bin the lot!” said Amy, before asking what other ‘junk’ her mum was hoarding in the attic space.

Jane goes quiet and can’t bring herself to admit the sheer number of old photograph boxes that are stashed in the loft or how many of Pat’s golfing trophies she’s kept or his favorite cricket bat… And then there’s spare dinner service that’s still in its original box and the exercise bike with the uncomfortable seat that she only ever used to hang her clothes on… It suddenly all feels a little overwhelming.

“It’ll be ok Mum,” said Amy gently. “Dad wouldn’t care about the stuff. He’d just want you to be happy, you know.”

“Sorry. Hang on a minute mum. What?... And you’re only just telling me this now? Olivia Reynolds! Mum, I’ve got to go. Your flaming granddaughter has left it until now to tell me that she needs a kangaroo costume for her school concert tomorrow! Where am I going to get one of those from at this time of night?”

*************************

Jane feels so much better for a good night’s sleep and three rounds of toast smothered in orange marmalade; home made by Linda from next door. The younger woman and her wife Kate often leave surprise food parcels in her porch just to make sure that she’s ‘eating properly’. They’ve both been so kind to her since Pat died and Jane hopes they’ll stay in touch after she moves into her new apartment in Sampson Road.

She’s certainly feeling more optimistic about the move today. It’ll be nice to live in a brand-new place with no maintenance worries. And she’s excited about the floor to ceiling shelving on the mezzanine level in the apartment. It’ll be like having her own personal library.

It’s strange how everything seems so much more manageable today she thinks. Jane takes advantage of her positive mood and systematically works through each room of the house sorting her belongings into three categories: keep it, bin it, or take to a charity shop.

She’s been working nonstop for several hours when her energy levels start to fizzle out. Maybe she needs some music to keep her in the zone. Picking up her iPad, she taps the music icon and scrolls down to one of the playlists that Olivia’s made for her. The latest Miss Remiss track booms out.

Jane couldn’t quite believe the lyrics the first time she heard the song and had messaged Olivia to ask if all girls used language like that these days. Her granddaughter had fired back almost immediately, saying that she should “chill” and the group was “bussin” or was it “yeek or yeet?” A second text had appeared moments later: “Don’t tell mum that I’m still listening to Miss Remiss or I’ll be grounded for life!!!!!!!”

Jane laughs as she thinks how alike Olivia and Amy are. She misses them all so much and thinks that it really will be nice to spend more time together in Brisbane.

She’s just thinking that maybe now is a good time to break for a quick cup of tea and perhaps a large slice of chocolate cake when her phone rings. It’s Kirsty asking her if the Stewarts can pop round just to do a bit of measuring up.

Jane can’t think of a good reason why they shouldn’t come round. They are buying the place after all. But… She sighs and switches off her music.

************************

Jane pulls the curtain open just an inch or so and peers out into Cleveland Street. She quickly lets the material fall back into place as she sees a silver Ford Fiesta caked in dirt pull up outside her front gate.

She glances down at her watch – they’re exactly on time and she doesn’t know why she finds this quite so irritating. Especially when she usually gets so annoyed about people running late. She knows she’s got to calm down. Amy’s words had stung a little the other evening, but she knows that she’s right. The Stewarts aren’t moving in with her and she’s not going to be lodging with them either. She just needs to get through the next few weeks and move on. Literally.

Her resolve crumbles a little as she catches Mr. Stewart giving the front wall a couple of sharp kicks with the toe of his trainer as though he’s checking that it’s solid. It’s been there since Victorian times thinks Jane, rolling her eyes dismissively.

She waits for the bell to ring twice before she steps into her hallway and opens the front door widely. She fixes what she hopes is a welcoming smile on her face.

“Come in. Come in! It’s lovely to see you both again! Isn’t this all so exciting,” said Jane silently cursing herself for sounding quite so over the top.

The couple don’t return her greeting or her outstretched hand. Instead, they sidestep past her and saunter into large front room. Mrs. Stewart’s eyes widen as she takes in the various piles of Jane’s belongings.

“Somebody is obviously very keen to move,” she said, looking at Jane with her bright green eyes. Her lips twitching into a slight smirk.

Jane looks away feeling awkward under her gaze. There’s something about Mrs. Stewart that makes her feel uncomfortable. She knows that Amy would laugh and tell her that she reads too many trashy thrillers. And that even if the woman is a little standoffish, it doesn’t mean she’s a villain.

Hmm. Not every one of those crime novels can be wrong though, thinks Jane as she pushes her glasses onto the top of her head.

“We just need to check a few things upstairs. You don’t need to come with us. You clearly have an awful lot of things to sort out,” she said before turning towards her husband and nodding in the direction of the stairs.

Jane feels like she’s been dismissed and sits down on the edge of the couch as though she’s the guest in her own home. She doesn’t quite know what to do with herself.

She’s absent mindedly flicking through her book when she realizes that the Stewarts are standing in the doorway to the lounge. She hopes that they didn’t see her jump.

“All done,” said Mrs. Stewart, plucking a blonde hair from her dark suit jacket and casually letting it drop to the floor. “No, don’t get up. We can let ourselves out. It can’t be good having to keep getting up and down at your age.”

At my age. AT MY AGE!? Jane mutters to herself and stomps furiously round her usual circuit of the park. As soon as the Stewart’s filthy car had disappeared round the corner, she had slammed out of the house. She’s been walking for nearly half an hour, and she still feels cross. She’s never been called old before. Most days she can’t believe that she’s 72 years old, apart from when her arthritis is playing up in her knee. And it was only the other week that the nice young conductor on the train had told that she couldn’t possibly be old enough for a senior citizens’ rail card.

Just as she’s cutting round by the lake, towards the cafe, a football lands at her feet almost tripping her up. A gaggle of boys reluctantly hang back, unsure if they’re going to be yelled at. Jane waves and then forcefully boots the ball back in their direction. She can hear them cheering and calling their thanks as she walks away. Hmm. Not bad for an old age pensioner, she thinks.

*************************

“Mrs. Stewart said that? You’re not in the least bit old. Well, I mean when I say…” said Linda trailing off awkwardly.

“It’s ok. I realize that I must look ancient to anyone under 35!” said Jane laughing and sitting back in the couch. She strokes Rufus who’s lying next to her gently snoring.

“Thanks for letting me hide round here this afternoon. I just couldn’t face seeing the Stewarts again. I’m not sure what else can possibly be left to measure up,” she said.

Setting her mug down on the wooden chest, Jane stands up and moves to the front room window. The fiesta is still there. And it’s still filthy. Are they really going to be much longer?

Suddenly there’s movement and she can see Kirsty stepping to one side to let the Stewarts walk down the pathway to the gate. As they stand in the street, Mrs. Stewart points up at something and they all start laughing. Jane feels a tightness in her chest that only starts to ease as she watches them climb into their car and drive away.

Turning back to Linda she says: “Well it finally looks like the coast is clear! I’d better head back and finish up some more packing. Can you believe that this time next week, I’ll be moving?”

“Well, let me know if you need anything. And we’ll all be round to see your new place. You can’t get rid of us that easily,” said Linda giving her a brief hug before closing the front door behind her.

*************************

Jane is just on her way out to her walking group meeting when she hears the landline ringing. She’s tempted to let it go to the answer machine as she’s already running late. At the last minute, she kicks off her shoes and rushes back into the kitchen. She snatches up the handset just as the voice mail is kicking in.

“Hello! Hello, I am here, said Jane battling with the computerized voice telling the caller to leave a message after the tone.

“Mrs. Lawrence, I’m glad I’ve caught you. Michael Smythe here from Tower and Chase Solicitors. I have some unfortunate news,” he said, sighing loudly and then pausing.

“We were just about to exchange contracts with the Stewart’s lawyers this afternoon when they notified us that they were reducing the amount they’re willing to pay by 20 thousand pounds.

“I’m sorry to put you on the spot, but I’m just checking that you still want to proceed with the sale?”

Jane can’t think straight. She’s supposed to be moving in a couple of days. Everything is packed and she’s living amongst a sea of boxes. The removal company is booked. And she’s already arranged for her power and TV to be cancelled and set up at the new address. Surely this can’t be happening.

“Can they do this now?’ she asks her solicitor. “I mean, 20 thousand is a lot to suddenly take off right at the last minute. Is it even legal?”

“It’s not illegal as we’re not under contract yet. However, I would classify it as sharp practice,” he said. “It’s completely up to you whether you want to walk away or proceed with the sale.”

“I guess I don’t have a lot of choice at this point,” said Jane. “Yes, let’s proceed but I hope I don’t have to see those people ever again.”

“Thieving bloo…” Jane holds the telephone away from her ear as Amy explodes and explains exactly what she’d like to do to the Stewarts if she ever met them. It’s probably just as well that her daughter is 10 thousand miles away in Brisbane.

Perhaps because Amy is so furious, Jane feels strangely calm. Almost indifferent. She just wants to get the move over and done with and be completely settled in her new home before Christmas.

“Well, you know what they say. What goes around, comes around,” said Amy menacingly.

“And now who’s being dramatic!” said Jane. “It’ll be fine, but I do think I deserve an extra-large glass of sherry tonight.”

Later as she’s sitting on the couch with her book in one hand and a sherry glass balanced in the other, her mobile phone pings. It’s a message from Amy. “Sorry for losing my rag earlier. I was just so angry. Just to say good luck with the move tomorrow. Love xx”

*************************

There’s a loud clunk and Jane listens as a large metal door swings shut. She looks out of the window and watches as Ben clambers up into the cab of the lorry and puts his feet up on the dashboard.

“Right love, we’re off. I think everything’s where it should be now,” said Jamie, the older of the two removal men, stepping into her hallway and handing her a clipboard.

“If you could just sign at the bottom to say that we didn’t break too much of your stuff!” he laughs.

Jane chuckles and hands him back the signed paperwork. She can’t believe how many biscuits they’ve eaten today and she’s lost count of how many cups of tea she’s made, but she certainly can’t fault their work ethic. It made her exhausted just watching them running in and out of the apartment with her belongings.

As she closes the front door behind him, Jane turns to look at all the boxes that are neatly arranged and waiting to be unpacked. The last time she’d moved house it was to 34 Cleveland Street. Her and Pat had celebrated with an Indian takeaway, eating straight out of the cartons as they’d perched on top of the packing crates. They’d toasted their future together and downed champagne out of a pair of chipped coffee mugs. Tonight, it’s just her. There isn’t anyone to share things with or argue good naturedly about her ever-growing collection of books. Shifting a pair of curtains out of the way, Jane sits down on a dining room chair and doesn’t think she’s ever felt more alone.

*************************

It’s been five days since Jane moved into the apartment and she’s not sure what she’s really achieved in that time. Certainly not putting up pictures or making the place feel like home. And she hasn’t even made any effort to get to know her new neighbors unless you count a friendly wave and shouted hello across the lobby.

It’s as if she’s boxed up all her feelings of suppressed fury and resentment against the Stewarts and unwrapped them at Sampson Road. No, it was no good thinking like that. She must stop feeling so sorry for herself. She hadn’t been this lethargic and self-pitying after Pat had died. But maybe it was because she could still feel his presence at Cleveland Street silently cheering her on.

Her mobile phone pings and she pushes a box of books to one side to check the message. It’s from Jackson. “Hi Gran. When are you going to facetime and show us your new place? Also. Here is your joke of the day. Q: What do you call a pig that knows karate? A: A pork chop!!!!!!!!!”

Jane laughs and makes a snap decision. She’s going to book her flight to Brisbane for the end of February. It’ll be nice to have something to look forward to. With renewed energy she picks up another box and empties the contents onto the floor.

As she carefully unwraps each item, she flattens out the sheets of used packing paper into a neat pile next to her. The last item in this box is the porcelain teapot with the broken handle that Amy had bought one year for her birthday. Even though its tea making days are over, she hasn’t been able to throw it out and now just uses it to store odds and ends. She opens the teapot lid and spies a key at the bottom. Oh heck! She thought she’d given Kirsty all the spares to Cleveland Street on her last visit. Now she’ll have to swing by the estate agent’s office and drop it in.

It's already dusk as she heads in the direction of the town center. The streetlamps glow faintly overhead and there’s a definite chill in the air. Jane wishes that she’d grabbed a scarf as well as her gloves and hat. At the end of Parliament Square, she knows that she should turn left and walk the final half mile along the high street to the offices of Castle & Wickham. Instead, she lets curiosity get the better of her and heads in the opposite direction towards Cleveland Street.

As she approaches number 34, Jane notices that there is a large skip outside in the road. Its safety lights twinkle in the darkness and the contents are piled so high that it’s almost overflowing. It’s only as she’s standing right in front of her old house that she realizes that the brick wall is missing along with all the plants and trees in the front garden. Jane is incensed. It had taken her years to get the garden looking so good. She looks up at the house and sees that all the curtains are closed making the place look even more neglected.

Striding up the pathway, she knocks loudly on the front door before she has chance to change her mind. There’s no reply so she raps harder and rings the bell. Bending down, Jane pushes open the letterbox and peers into the gloom. She calls out hello, but everything is perfectly quiet and still.

Unthinkingly, Jane finds herself putting her key in the lock and opening the door. It’s not until she’s standing inside the hallway at the bottom of the stairs that she realizes what she’s done. She’s broken into her old house. Jane stands frozen to the spot. She doesn’t know what she should do. What happens if she opens the front door, and she bumps into the Stewarts as they’re coming home? Oh, why hadn’t she just taken the key to the estate agents like she had originally planned?

Jane takes a few deep breaths and tries to calm down. She pads quietly through to the kitchen where she’s greeted by the smell of stale curry and alcohol. In the half-light she can see a collection of empty beer and wine bottles on top of the counter; some of them have toppled over and leaked onto the worksurface. And they haven’t even cleared up their breakfast dishes thinks Jane looking at the crusty porridge in the cereal bowls and wrinkling up her nose.

Jane suddenly remembers that she shouldn’t be standing in the kitchen of her old house passing judgement on anyone else’s cleaning standards. She needs to get out of here fast. Without pausing to look at anything else, she creeps through to the lounge and pushes the curtain to one side to look out of the bay window. She can’t see anyone coming so she slips through to the hallway and lets herself out of the front door. She moves quickly down the pathway and doesn’t slow down until she’s a good half mile away. Only then does she start to breathe a little more easily.

As soon as she walks into her apartment, she heads straight to the drinks cupboard and pours herself a large measure of sherry. She carries her glass over to the other side of the lounge and sinks into the couch. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or perhaps it’s the sheer relief of not being caught, but Jane starts to giggle uncontrollably and finds that she can’t stop.

She’s never done anything so wicked before. She can’t remember clocking up so much as a speeding ticket or a parking fine and now…. Now she’s bypassed those minor offenses and skipped straight to breaking and entering. Jane isn’t laughing anymore. In fact, she’s starting to feel quite sick.

Her iPad buzzes and Jane sees Amy’s number flash up. She’s not going to confess to her daughter what she’s been up to this afternoon. Indeed, she won’t be sharing today’s transgressions with anyone. It’s going to be her little secret. As she swipes to unlock the iPad, four faces crowd round and fill the screen.

“You alright mum? You look a bit flushed. Are you coming down with something?” said Amy, squinting and inching closer to the screen.

“I’m absolutely fine dear,” said Jane, not quite able to meet her daughter’s eyes. “I probably look a bit red in the face after going for a long walk in the cold. It’s freezing over here.”

“Ha, cold indeed! Your ma’s on the sherry! That’s why she looks so flushed,” laughed Lucas. “I’d better go and grab a beer. I don’t want you drinking alone Mrs. L!”

She cuts across Lucas’ laughter and Jackson’s repeated demands to know ‘what does on the sherry mean’ and tells them about her plans to visit Brisbane at the end of February.

“Yay! That’s the best news! We can go camping again,” yells Olivia.

“And we can go to that koala sanctuary too!” said Jackson leaping up and down.

“Hmm. It’ll certainly be good to have you here mum where I can keep an eye on you,” said Amy.

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Jane, feeling her face flush again. “Right, I’m going to let you guys go. I’m feeling quite tired. I think the move and all the unpacking must have taken it out of me.”

***********************

It’s been a week since her unplanned visit to Cleveland Street. Jane has decided that she prefers to call her breaking and entering exploits a ‘visit’ rather than anything more criminal sounding.

And she’s really tried everything to stop thinking about her old house. She’s unpacked all the boxes, and everything is finally put away neatly. Pictures are up on the walls, and she’s even invited Ella across the hallway round for a drink.

It’s just that she can’t get the image of her former home looking quite so forlorn and run down out of her head. This is exactly why she’d wanted to sell it somebody who would love the place as much as she had.

Jane switches off the television and chucks the remote to the far end of the couch. Normally she watches real life crime documentaries to relax, but today it’s making her feel edgy and she can’t sit still.

Maybe she’ll go out for a walk to clear her head. She might even stroll along Cleveland Street and check how her old home is looking. There’s nothing illegal about standing on the pavement outside a house you used to own. It’s not like she’d ever use the key again.

As she walks along the tree-lined road, she notices that there are still no lights on at number 34. And the curtains remain tightly closed. Jane pauses in a shadowy stretch of pavement and stares at her old house. The skip has gone and there are fresh tire marks across what is left of the lawn. The Stewarts are obviously parking two cars on the grass. She looks up towards the roof and her eyes are drawn to the windows. Is that aluminum foil stuck to the glass? What an odd thing to do thinks Jane.

She finds herself walking up the pathway to the house. She knocks on the door and peeps in through the letterbox again. She pulls the key to number 34 out of her coat pocket and turns it over and over in her hand. Glancing round to check that there’s nobody looking, she puts the key in the lock and lets herself in.

She can’t say that it was a mistake this time or that it’s because she was upset. No, this time she’s deliberately entered her old house. Jane walks along the hallway and sticks her head round the doorframe into the lounge. There’s not a lot of furniture in there. Just a couch, a couple of mismatched chairs and the television is in the corner on a small low table. The bareness of the room makes it look stark and unwelcoming.

As she heads back into the hallway towards the kitchen, Jane notices how warm it is in the house. She unzips her coat as she feels sweat start to trickle down her back. They must have the heating cranked up incredibly high. Even in summer Jane would need to wear a cardigan if she was sitting inside. She’s just considering looking upstairs when she sees car headlights shining through the glass on either side of the front door.

Panicking, Jane turns round and scurries towards the kitchen. Her coat catches on the door handle, pulling her backwards. As she snatches at the material, pulling it free, she hears a car door slam shut. In her haste to get out, she slides on the kitchen floor and knocks into the counter sending an open beer can crashing to the floor. Mesmerized, she watches the liquid pool on the floor and settle between the cracks in the tiles. A key turning in the front door brings her back sharply and she runs to the sliding patio door. Thank goodness the key is already in the lock although she’s shaking so much, she can hardly get it to move.

She pulls the door closed just as she sees lights coming on in the hallway. Ducking down, she creeps along the back of the house keeping out of sight of the windows. Her heart is beating wildly, and she can barely catch her breath. If she can just get to the other side of the shed, then she can cut across to Linda’s house. But as she sneaks by the corner brick wall, she must have tripped the security sensor as suddenly the entire garden is bathed in light.

Jane throws herself up against the wall of the house just as she hears the patio door being forcefully opened. She doesn’t move an inch. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Mr. Stewart leaning out of the doorway looking left and right before yelling back inside: “I don’t see anything. It’s probably just that wretched cat from next door again.”

As soon as she hears the patio door close, she walks as fast as she can to the front of the house. Although she’d previously been inconsolable about the state of her garden, she’s now rather grateful that she hasn’t got to force her way through spikey holly bushes or scramble over any walls.

Once she’s standing on the pavement in Cleveland Street, she looks over her shoulder at number 34. Oh no. The front door is opening. Surely, they didn’t see her. She yanks the hood up on her coat and pulls her scarf higher so it’s covering most of her face apart from her eyes. Although her hood muffles some sound, she can hear raised voices. She struggles to make out the words clearly, although she certainly hears the last thing that Mr. Stewart yells: “For the last time. I didn’t leave the patio unlocked and I haven’t got the bloody keys either.” Then he slams the front door shut with such force that the whole house shakes.

As he crunches his car into gear and reverses into the road, Jane reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out two keys. Oh heck. In her desperation to get out the house, she must have grabbed the patio key too. She feels quite sick. This isn’t what she’d intended at all. As she puts her head down and starts to hurry along the pavement, she walks straight into another woman rushing in the opposite direction.

“Jane? Jane is that you?” said Linda. “I didn’t recognize you for a second! What are you doing round here?”

“I was just….” Jane trails off. How can she possibly explain that she’s been letting herself into her old house with a key that she should have handed over to the estate agent? And now she’s run off with the patio door key after nearly being caught snooping by the new owners.

“I bet it must be ever so hard leaving Cleveland Street after all those years,” said Linda kindly. “I think I’d want to come back and look at my old house too.

“It’s a surprise to see the Stewarts home this early. I don’t usually see their cars pulling in until much later at night. Anyway, do you want to come in for a quick drink? I know that Kate would love to see you too.”

Jane shakes her head. “Thanks so much, but I must dash. I’m supposed to be having dinner with one of my neighbors from the apartment complex. Another time though, yes?”

She feels bad lying to Linda, but she may as well add another misdemeanor to her ever growing list of crimes. With a final goodbye and promises to meet up soon, Jane heads back to Sampson Road. But once she’s back home, she feels restless and can’t settle to anything.

Hours later, she’s still wide awake unable to sleep. She just needs to get rid of the patio door key, then she’ll feel so much better. And then she remembers what Linda told her. The Stewarts are hardly ever home early. So that’s what she’ll do, she’ll simply go back to Cleveland Street for one final time and leave the key somewhere in the house for the couple to find. Decision made; Jane finally starts to drift off to sleep.

*************************

This is the last time she tells herself, as she opens the front door to 34 Cleveland Street. She won’t ever come back here again. Jane takes the patio key out of her coat pocket and hides it amongst the pile of letters that are strewn across the hallway table.

She’s just letting herself out when Rufus squeezes through the gap in the door and darts up the stairs. Oh heck. As she follows the cat up to the next floor, she notices that it’s still incredibly warm in the house and there’s a strange smell which she can’t identify.

Before she can grab him, Rufus pushes through into her old bedroom letting the door swing open behind him. As Jane stands in the doorway, she can’t believe her eyes.

There are literally hundreds of plants underneath an elaborate network of lamps, pipes, and fans. The windows are blacked out with several layers of aluminum foil and there’s condensation dripping down onto the floor.

Jane takes a step backwards onto the landing. She really can’t believe it. She might be in her 70s and get muddled at times, but she can certainly recognize cannabis when she sees it. Pushing open the second- and third-bedroom doors, she sees a similar set up. There must be literally hundreds of cannabis plants. In the final room upstairs, there’s a mattress in the corner of the room with a couple of pillows and a crumpled-up duvet cover. So much for my house not being to your taste thinks Jane closing the door.

She scoops up a wriggling Rufus who’s been munching away on the leaves and hurries down the stairs; after a cursory glance to check that nobody’s coming, she lets herself out of number 34. Jane plans to ring the police the minute she gets home and let them know that they’ve turned her old house into an illegal cannabis farm.

It’s not until she’s halfway back that she identifies a flaw in her plan. How can she possibly explain to the police what’s been going on without admitting that she’s been trespassing in her former home? Jane’s feels quite despondent and her pace slows a little. Surely there’s a way. The Stewarts can’t get away with this.

Sitting at her dining room table, she distractedly props her glasses up on the top of her head and taps out a text to Amy: “How can I report a crime that I know is being committed but without giving away any real details or my name?”

Jane waits impatiently for her daughter’s reply. She keeps swiping her phone on and off to check if she’s missed her reply. She’s just considering pouring herself a small, medicinal sherry when the text alert pings.

“Mother! What have you done??? What have you been up to?? And why aren’t you answering any of my calls? I’ll ring you later and you’d better answer.

“Ps. Crimestoppers. Surely you remember all those adverts telling you that you can report crimes anonymously?”

Crimestoppers! That’s it. Now she remembers. She googles the number and hits call before she has time to change her mind.

Once she’s shared the information with that nice sounding young man about the Stewarts and the rooms full of cannabis plants, she feels so much calmer. It really is time to put Cleveland Street behind her and start looking towards the future again. It might even be time for that sherry.

*************************

Jane feels shattered. Ella’s roped her in to organize the Christmas party at the senior citizen center and there’s so much to sort before next week. It’s great fun though and it’s good to help the older people in the community.

Collapsing on the couch, she kicks off her shoes and hits the power button on the television remote. She grabs the menu for the local Indian takeaway from underneath the coffee table and starts skimming through what she’s going to order for dinner. She’s pretty much decided on chicken tikka balti with egg rice when she’s hears ‘Cleveland Street’ on the television.

Glancing up, she sets the menu to one side and turns up the volume. The female presenter in the studio looks directly at the camera, gives a brief smile, and says: “And now we can go live to James McCollgan who’s outside the property and has the latest information. Jamie?”

The screen switches to an earnest looking reporter wearing a huge winter coat and clutching a microphone. As the camera pans out, she can see her old house behind him in the background.

“….. Thank you, Danielle. Yes, police are calling it one of the largest drug seizures in recent years. Hundreds of cannabis plants with a street value of more than five million pounds were discovered in the upstairs rooms of this seemingly normal Victorian property in Cleveland Street.

“Officers were alerted to the illegal cannabis farm following several tip offs. The power company had also raised concerns about the dramatic spike in electricity usage.

“Police raided the address at dawn and two people are in custody helping police with their inquiries. No further information has been released so far.”

As the camera switches back to the studio, Jane gulps and switches off the television. Gosh. She really wasn’t expecting that anything would happen and not that quickly. She feels almost guilty. Did she really want to get the Stewarts arrested? And would they know it was her that had tipped off the police? Oh heck.

Her phone buzzes and it’s a message from Linda: “Switch on your TV!!! It looks like you were right about the Stewarts!!!!!”

Before she even has chance to tap out a reply to Linda, her phone rings. It’s Amy.

“I can’t believe that our old house made it onto the news in Australia Mum! Can you believe they turned it into a drugs factory!?” she said breathlessly. “Mum? You don’t seem surprised. Did you know anything about this?”

“Of course, I didn’t. How could I possibly know what’s been going on when I moved out ages ago,” said Jane brusquely. “I can’t remember the last time I even went near the place…

“… Anyway, I don’t want to think about Cleveland Street. Let’s talk about my trip to Brisbane and all the nice things we’re going to do.”

*************************

Jane sits in the large armchair in Linda’s front room and tries to balance her cup of tea and slice of cake on her lap. It’s not easy with Rufus lying across her legs purring and refusing to move.

“I can’t believe I’m off to Brisbane tomorrow. It’s 26 degrees centigrade there apparently!” she tells Linda. “I think a bit of sun will do me good. It’s certainly been a strange time recently.”

“Ha! Yes, who’d have thought that your old house would be turned into a cannabis farm and make headlines round the world!” laughs Linda. “The new people seem nice though and hopefully they’ll be a little more conventional than the Stewarts.

“I can’t believe how long the judge sent them to prison for though. It’s quite… ” she trails off as her phone starts to ring. “It’s Kate,” she mouths to Jane, standing up and walking into the kitchen.

She’s back a few minutes later. “Jane, I’m sorry to kick you out, but I’ve got to go and collect Kate. Her car’s broken down on the bypass and she’s stranded. Can we catch up again when you’re back from Australia?” she said.

“No problem at all,” said Jane, tipping Rufus off her lap. She grabs her coat and heads to the front door, with Linda following behind her.

Linda gives her a hug before she climbs into her car. Rolling down the window she said: “Don’t forget to send me lots of pictures to make me jealous! And I want to hear all about it when you get back.”

Jane watches Linda’s car disappear round the corner and then pauses in front her old house. It looks like the new owners are rebuilding the brick wall and have started planting some trees too. She can’t see any lights on although there’s an old Volvo station wagon parked in the drive. It would be nice to see what they’re doing with the inside of the property too she thinks.

She presses her face up against the glass and peers in through the window at the front. Even though the room is in semi-darkness she can make out a Chesterfield couch with matching chairs either side of the fireplace. And it looks like there’s a large bookshelf in the corner too. Turning away from the window, she steps inside the porch. Taking the key for number 34 out of her coat pocket, Jane glances round to see if anyone is looking before raising her arm up to the door.

************************

“I told mummy that I heard someone knocking and I was right,” said the little girl dressed in a bumblebee costume opening the door widely. Flicking her ginger hair off her face, she pirouettes in the doorway.

“I’m Cass and I’m six and three quarters and I’m going to ballet class in a bit,” she announced proudly. “Who are you?”

“I’m Jane and I used to live here. Is your mummy home?” she said, looking at the framed family photographs hanging in the hallway and smiling.

“Yes, I’ll go and get her,” said Cass, not budging from the door but instead turning round and yelling mummmmmmmmmy at the top of her voice.

Jane feels relieved that someone eventually answered the door as she wanted to hand the door key over personally rather than simply pushing it through the letterbox.

A woman emerges from the kitchen with flour on her cheeks and a pencil haphazardly slotted in her hair which is piled up messily on top of her head.

She puts a protective arm around her daughter and looks quizzically at Jane. “Hello, I’m Sally Jacques. Can I help you?”

“Hi there. I’m Jane Lawrence and I used to live here,” she said. “Oh no. Not the last people to live here,” she explains as she catches the woman’s look of horror. “I sold this place to the Stewarts.”

Jane sees Sally visibly relax when she realizes that she’s not responsible for manufacturing millions of pounds worth of illegal drugs on the property.

“I’ve finally finished emptying all my moving boxes at my new apartment and I found a key for this place. I thought I’d bring it round as it’s always good to have spares,” she said dropping it into Sally’s outstretched hand.

“Oh, that’s perfect, thank you so much. Everything’s still a little chaotic now, but we love it here. I think my husband and I were sold the minute we saw the stripped pine floors and the original tiles in the kitchen,” said Sally. “Gosh, please don’t judge me on the mess you’re seeing right now!”

Jane laughs as she looks through to the kitchen and sees Rufus lying on the floor next to the oven. “Of course not! I think you’re all going to be fine. You already look at home here.

“Right, I’d better go. I’m off to see my family in Australia tomorrow and I need to throw the last few things in my case.”

As she waves goodbye to Sally and Cass, she takes one last glimpse at the house and smiles. Then without pausing to take another look, she walks along the gravel path and away from 34 Cleveland Street.