Bernard lay in bed, halfasleep, when his wife Laura nudged him sharply. Come on, Bernard, do something at last! This is unbearable! she snapped, irritated.
Whatwhats that? he muttered, still dreaming. The shouting from the flat above didnt rouse him; Laura, however, could not find peace.
Nancys wailing again! Cant you hear her? she whispered, halfto herself. Bernard gave no answer, sinking deeper into slumber.
Fine, go on sleeping! Laura snapped, deciding she would handle the disturbance herself, for there was no one else in the whole block to quiet the beast. She threw on her nightgown, slammed the door shut, and stormed out.
Bernard awoke with a groan, cursing everything under the sun, and shuffled after her.
***
Laura reached the front door of the noisy neighbours and began pounding on it with all the force she could muster. Just in time, Bernard arrived, and the door swung open. Inside, the sobbing of sixyearold Danny and the whimpering of Nancy could be heard.
Whats the trouble here? the drunken owner of the flat, Paul, rasped, swaying on unsteady feet.
You looked at the clock? Its night! Laura shrieked.
What now? Paul stepped forward, fists clenched.
Nothing! Bernard roared and, with a single swing, knocked the neighbour to the ground. The man collapsed on the landing and fell silent.
A few minutes later, a terrified Nancy peeked from the hallway, her face marked with fresh bruises. She stared at Bernard, too afraid to move closer.
Call the police, Bernard said, his voice softening as he looked at the distraught woman. Hell be all right and start again.
He wont, Nancy whispered, a tremor in her voice, hell finally sleep.
Are you sure? Laura asked.
Nancy shrugged. I hope so
No, Laura snapped, tone leaving no room for protest. I cant endure another act of this farcical drama; I have work in the morning. Take your son and stay with us for the night. As for him, she glanced disdainfully at Paul, youll deal with him tomorrow.
***
Nighttime quarrels had become routine in that old Victorian block; most residents kept their heads down. Only Bernard, obeying Lauras wishes, would sigh, dress, and climb the stairs.
Laura grew weary of this pattern, especially as she noted Bernards increasing eagerness to save the neighbour.
Again, you saint? she hissed after him.
He heard only the frightened eyes of Danny, now clinging to his mothers lap, and the pale, terroretched face of Nancy. After dealing with Paul, Bernard would traditionally escort the woman and child to his flat, away from sin. Laura set a spare couch for them in the sittingroom.
By the following evening, Nancy began bringing pies and other homebaked goods as thanks to her rescuers, and a tentative friendship blossomed. Soon Nancy and Danny became frequent visitors to Bernard and Lauras house. Nancy constantly offered to help around the home, while Dannybrighteyed and earnestreached out to Bernard as if the man were a superhero, drawn to his calm, tobaccoscented presence.
Bernard welcomed the attention, buying the boy toys, repairing his little model cars, and one day presenting a metal construction set, then a football.
***
The couple had no children of their own. At first they had hoped to enjoy a childfree life; later, circumstances simply would not allow it. That quiet ache lived like a third, invisible tenant.
Then the boy, with his wideopen eyes, seemed to pierce that emptiness.
Laura, usually restrained, let her feelings out at the work breakroom, which had become her little sanctuary.
Can you imagine? Last night the neighbour burst in crying again! Her husband was out of his mind, banging about! I dont understand women who put up with that. Its nonsenseno respect for herself! she vented, puffing on a cigarette.
Perhaps she loves him, suggested the senior clerk, Valerie, gently. You once said when hes sober hes a proper lad.
Gold, you say? Hes not even a fish or a piece of meatjust a clueless oaf! Another woman in my place would have left the drunk a long time ago!
Maybe she has nowhere else to go, chimed in the younger colleague, Iris. Its hard enough with a child on her own.
No! Shes tolerating nothing but his scum. He lives in her flat! Its high time she swept him out with a rotten broom. She has no pride, no dignityshes a patsy! Laura declared, voice rising, as if convincing herself that she was strong, independent, far superior to that Nancy.
Yet each day she returned home to the familiar sight of Bernard and Danny hunched over a construction set, hearing the rare, cherished sound of her husbands genuine laugh.
One Saturday, Laura came back from the market with heavy bags. The door to Nancys flat stood ajar, and she glanced inside, freezing on the threshold.
There was no kiss, no embrace, nothing scandalous. They were simply
Bernard sat on a stool, hammer in hand, while Danny stood beside him handing over nails with an air of importance. Nancy, leaning against the doorframe, watched them with a deep, serene happiness that made Lauras chest grow cold; they seemed a single, perfect unita family she had never been able to create.
What a monstrous thought, she muttered, stepping away. Nonsense! Bernard would never I am everything to him, and that Nancyshes a foolish hen!
***
The next time Nancy sought help, Laura halted her at the door and, louder than ever, told Bernard to hear:
How long, Nancy? When will you finally use your head? He isnt even your husband! Why endure that drunken monster in your own flat? Throw him out and thatll be the end! Or do you enjoy playing the victim? Shame on you! Your son watches!
Her words, like poisonous seeds, fell on fertile ground. Within a week, a hunched, pitiful Paul left the building, suitcase in hand. Laura celebrated, feeling triumph at last.
Now Nancy and her son would vanish from their lives forever; they no longer needed protection.
***
Peace settled over the block. No more pies on Saturdays, no childrens laughter echoing down the hallway. Laura first rejoiced in the quiet, the cleanliness, the order. But soon the silence in their own flat grew heavy, oppressive.
Bernard came home from work, ate dinner in silence, and retreated to the living room to stare at the television, growing darker and more withdrawn each day.
Hes just tired, Laura told herself, thats why he doesnt look at me at the table or laugh at my jokes. He sleeps facing away, as if I, Laura, simply do not exist.
Then something turned everything upside down. One day Laura returned from work much earlier than usual because a sudden headache struck. In a daze, she entered the lift and pressed the wrong button, stepping out one floor below. The door to Nancys flat was ajardéjà vu.
She stepped inside.
Later she asked herself repeatedly why she had gone in. Seeing Bernard and Nancy engrossed in each other, oblivious to the world, Laura was so bewildered she could not utter a word, could not reveal her presence. She slipped out on tiptoe, closing the door quietly behind her.
An hour later Bernard arrived, as if nothing had happened, ate his dinner, and buried himself in the television. Laura kept silent. She never told her husband what she had seen; she convinced herself that knowing his secret was enough to try to fix things.
She hated Nancy in that instant, and she hated herself for having urged Pauls expulsion, clearing space for her own husband. Yet Bernard was not truly hers; he had proposed marriage many times, and she always brushed it aside, saying a stamp on a paper was not what mattered. Now, she feared he might simply walk away.
She would not confess to Bernard that she knew of his betrayal. What if nothing came of this chicken after all? She would wait. She would endure.
***
And she waited. She endured. Bernard and Nancy continued their covert romance. Laura pretended not to see, not to understand. Sometimes Nancy visited with Danny and pies, as she once had. Laura smiled politely, accepted the treats, and kept quiet. She had learned to bear it for years.
One day, calling Nancy a pathetic survivor, Laura never imagined she was scripting her own future. Now she found herself in an unenviable position, her silence the loudest confession of her own defeat. Laura feared speaking any more, lest she shatter the happy family where she was cast as the chief victimthe perennial sufferer.
