Old Neighbours

I’m woken by a ring on the door-bell.

Half asleep I charge down the stairs and open up to find old friend and former neighbour Z on the doorstep.

Would I sign her son S’s passport photo? Of course I will (I’ve known the family 12 years I think that qualifies!). She hands me the form and photos and says she can’t stop now, but she’ll call back later.

Heading into the lounge, I feel relieved she didn’t accept my invite to come in for a coffee. Better tidy up before she returns…

Z split up with her husband a few years back. He still lives on the close, but Z moved to north Manchester and whilst I still see the kids occasionally when they visit, relations with her former spouse are strained and she is rarely about.

This evening when she returns, she has 3 of the 6 kids in tow. Typically she also insists on plying me with a container of Biriyani.

They all come in to the now presentable lounge and within minutes we’re laughing raucously as if no time has passed at all. So good to catch up, I realise how much I miss her being on the close.