Mum, Ive moved in! Can you believe it finally!
Jessica clutched her mobile between shoulder and ear, wrestling with the stubborn lock. The key turned reluctantly, as if testing its new owners resolve.
Darling, thank heavens! And the flat is everything all right? Her mums voice was a mix of anxious excitement.
Its perfect! So bright, so spacious. East-facing balcony, just like I wanted. Dads with you?
Here I am! boomed Davids deep voice. Put you on speaker, have we? The fledglings left the nest, then?
Dad, Im twenty-five. Im not a fledgling.
To me, you always will be. Checked the locks? No draughts from the windows? Heaters
David, let her settle in! her mum interjected. Jessie, be careful there. Its a new build, you never know about the neighbours.
Jessica laughed, finally taming the lock and pushing open the door.
Mum, it isnt a grotty bedsit from the seventies. Decent building, decent folk. Ill be fine.
The next few weeks blurred together: a dizzying marathon of DIY stores, furniture outlets and endless journeys between the new flat and shops. Jessica fell asleep with wallpaper catalogues on her pillow, woke dreaming about which grout colour best matched the bathroom tiles.
On Saturday, she stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by curtain fabric swatches, when her phone vibrated again.
Hows it coming along? Dad was checking in.
Slowly but surely. Curtain day today! Im torn between ‘ivory’ and ‘warm milk’. Thoughts?
I reckon theyre the same colour, just different sales pitches.
Dad, you really dont see the subtle shades!
I do know electrics though. The sockets wired up all right?
The renovations ate up her time, money and patience, but each little change transformed bare walls into a home. Jessica chose milky-beige wallpaper for the bedroom herself, found a local bloke to fit the laminate, and figured out her own way to arrange the furniture, somehow making the tiny kitchen feel bigger.
When the last workman carted off the leftover rubble, Jessica sat on the living room floor, basking in the sparkling cleanliness. The gentle light filtered through new curtains, there was the scent of fresh paint and promise. Her first real home…
She met her neighbour three days after the final move. Jessica was fiddling with her keys at the door when the flat opposite opened with a click.
Oh, the newbie! A woman in her early thirties peered out. Short hair, bold lipstick, curious eyes. Im Rebecca. I live opposite, so I guess were neighbours now.
Jessica. Lovely to meet you.
If you need a bit of sugar or fancy a natter, drop in anytime. First weeks in a new build can feel odd, I remember.
Rebecca proved to be great company. Over tea in Jessicas kitchen, they chatted about the moody property managers and quirks of their floors layout. Rebecca shared her local know-how: who offered the best broadband, which chap fixed plumbing on the cheap, and which corner shop always had fresh groceries.
Ive got a world-class apple crumble recipe! Rebecca scrolled through her phone. Ill send it now. Takes half an hour, tastes like youve slaved all day.
Oh, please! Havent even tried out the oven yet.
Weeks cobbled themselves together as Jessica grew glad of such an open neighbour. They bumped into each other on the stairs, occasionally popped over for coffee, swapped paperbacks.
That Saturday, David came round to help with the stubborn bookshelf that refused to hang straight.
Chose the wrong plugs, love. He examined the fittings. These are for plasterboard, youve got concrete here. Hang on, got the right ones in the car.
An hour later, the shelf hung firm. David gathered his tools, surveyed his handiwork and nodded with pride.
Thatll stay up for the next twenty years, easy.
Youre the best, Dad! Jessica threw her arms around him.
Walking downstairs, they chatted about work. David asked after her job; Jessica grumbled about her muddled new boss, missing deadlines and losing files.
At the entrance, Rebecca appeared, bags from Tesco in hand.
Oh, hi! Jessica waved. Dad, this is Rebecca, my neighbour I told you about; Rebecca, this is my father, David.
Nice to meet you, he replied, with his easy smile.
Rebecca froze for a split second, her eyes flitting from David to Jessica. Her smile became stiff, awkward almost pasted on.
Likewise, she said quickly, disappearing into the building.
Everything changed after that meeting. The next morning, Jessica greeted Rebecca at the landing as usual, but received only a cold nod. Two days later, she invited her for tea Rebecca claimed she was busy and barely listened.
Then, the complaints started…
The first time the neighbourhood officer knocked, it was just past nine.
Weve had a report of a noise issue, he said, a little abashed. Loud music, disturbance.
What music? Jessica was baffled. I was reading!
Well, someones complaining…
The complaints piled up. The property manager received letters ‘unbearable stomping’, ‘constant banging’, ‘music at night’. The officer began showing up with unsettling regularity, apologizing each time, saying his hands were tied.
Jessica knew perfectly well who was behind it. What she didnt know was why?
Each morning became a lottery what would it be today? Egg shells smeared across her door? Coffee grounds wedged in the frame? A bag of potato peelings tucked under the mat?
Jessica stood up half an hour earlier every day to clear the mess before work, her hands raw from scrubbing, her throat tight with frustration.
I cant keep doing this, she muttered one evening, searching video doorbells online.
Installation took twenty minutes. The little camera, nestled where a traditional peephole belonged, captured every movement in the hallway. Jessica linked it to her phone and waited.
She didnt have to wait long.
At three in the morning, her phone buzzed with a motion alert. Jessica stared, disbelieving, as Rebecca bathrobe and slippers on carefully smeared something dark across her door. Meticulous, deliberate, like someone fulfilling a routine.
The next night, Jessica stayed up. She sat in the hallway, ears straining for each sound. Just before half-three, there was a murmur outside.
Jessica yanked the door open.
Rebecca froze, clutching a bag that sloshed with something vile.
What did I do to you? Jessicas own voice sounded pitiful. Why are you doing this?
Rebecca slowly dropped the bag. Her face twisted, pretty features warping into a mask of old anger.
You? You did nothing. But your dad…
Whats Dad got to do with it?
Hes MY dad too! Rebecca nearly shouted, not caring who overheard. Only he raised you, pampered and loved you, and left me and my mum when I was three! Never sent a penny, never called! While he played happy families with your mum, we were scraping by! So really, you took my father!
Jessica stumbled back, hitting the doorframe.
Youre lying…
Am I? Ask him yourself! Ask if he remembers Maria Thompson and her daughter, Rebecca the two he threw away like rubbish!
Jessica slammed the door and slid down against it to the floor. One thought throbbed in her head: its not true, it cant be true, Dad wouldnt couldnt
The next morning, she drove to her parents. She rehearsed her question all the way, but when she saw her father calm as ever with his newspaper her words got stuck.
Jessie! What a surprise! David rose, beaming. Mums popped out to the shops.
Dad, I have to ask Jessica perched on the sofa, twisting her handbag strap. Do you know a woman named Maria Thompson?
David froze. The paper slipped from his hands to the floor.
How do you…
Her daughter is my neighbour the one you met. She says youre her father.
Silence hung in the air, heavy and endless.
Lets go to her David said abruptly. Right now. I have to make this right.
The drive to the new flat took forty minutes. Neither spoke. Jessica stared at the passing streets, clinging to the shattered pieces of her world.
Rebecca opened the door straight away, as if expecting them. She took them both in with a hard glare, then stepped aside to let them through.
Here for confession, are we? she sneered at David. After thirty years?
Im here to explain. David pulled a folded sheet from his jacket. Read this.
Rebecca eyed the document warily. As she read, her expression changed: anger melting to confusion, confusion to a lost bewilderment.
What is this?
DNA results, David replied evenly. I did it when your mother tried to sue for maintenance. Tests showed Im not your father. Maria cheated on me. Youre not my daughter.
Rebecca dropped the paper to the floor…
Jessica and her dad left the neighbours flat. Back in their own home, Jessica stepped into her fathers arms, face pressed against his familiar, rough jacket.
Im so sorry, Dad. Sorry I believed her.
David stroked her hair, just as he had when shed come crying to him as a child after falling out with her friends.
Youve nothing to apologise for, sweetheart. The blame lies with others.
Jessica never tried to mend things with Rebecca. After all those cruelties, respect for that woman was lost forever.
