In a town in England, there was a woman named Margaret Smith. She believed she lived quite a respectable life. Though she never had a family or children, she owned her own flat, which was always spotless and orderly. She also had a decent job as an accountant at a furniture factory.
Margaret led a quiet and smooth life until she turned 50. She was very content with her life, especially compared to her neighbors. She took pleasure in thinking that everything had worked out splendidly for her since she was a good person and harmed no one. Her neighbors, however, were somewhat wayward. On her landing, there lived, for instance, a woman in her 60s.
It was a shame really, a woman her age, almost a pensioner, had dyed her hair blue! Imagine that! And she wore tight dresses and jeans. Everyone laughed at her. Town’s eccentric, no doubt.
“Outrageous!” thought Margaret as she observed the peculiar pensioner. She was glad that she, herself, looked appropriate and dignified for her age.
Talking about the third neighbor was embarrassing. Just twenty-one years old and already had a child who seemed around five. Clearly, she must have been in school when she got pregnant. Where were the parents looking? Actually, she didn’t have any, living only with her little girl. Moreover, she had befriended the blue-haired pensioner. While the young woman was out during the day, the older neighbor babysat the child.
Margaret was not surprised. “Birds of a feather flock together,” she thought. “They avoid me. They see a respectable person—too awkward to even make eye contact. They just say hello in the lift and that’s the extent of our interaction.”
The last neighbor was a man about 30 years old. Seeing him for the first time, Margaret was genuinely shocked. His arms and neck were entirely covered in tattoos! Do decent people go around like that? Certainly not!
Even in her youth, Margaret had judged such types. They probably can’t stand out any other way, so they mar their skin. Just drawing attention to themselves! Probably lacking brains! Better off reading a book.
This was her daily thought whenever she encountered any of her neighbors. Upon returning home, she took quiet delight in her orderly life. She often discussed her neighbors over the phone with her only friend. With little else to talk about, the “tattooed guy,” “young mother,” and “crazy old lady” became almost the main topics of conversation.
One evening, as usual, Margaret came back from work in a foul mood. There was a shortage at work… The first time in years. Who would get the blame? Who’s at fault? The accountant, of course. Her head had been aching since morning, and now her ears started ringing, and her legs felt suddenly heavy.
Margaret barely reached the building entrance and sank onto a bench. Suddenly, she felt a gentle touch on her arm. With difficulty, she raised her gaze to see the “pensioner” with blue hair looking concerned.
“Are you alright? You don’t look well,” she asked sympathetically.
“My head… hurts…” Margaret whispered.
“Let’s go upstairs to Matthew’s; he’s home today. You’re very pale,” the woman insisted.
“Who’s Matthew?” asked Margaret.
“Matthew lives on our floor. He’s a cardiologist. You didn’t know?”
Arriving at the right door, the neighbor knocked. Margaret was surprised to see the tattooed man she’d believed didn’t look like a respectable person.
He checked Margaret’s blood pressure, laid her on the couch, and gave her a tablet. Soon, her headache and the ringing in her ears were gone.
“Make sure you book an appointment! You have to keep an eye on the pressure, even young ladies like yourself,” the doctor smiled, as he saw she was feeling better.
“Thank you,” Margaret said, feeling guilty for recalling how she had discussed the tattooed man with her friend. “Cares about appearance, but no brain,” she had said about him. Yet, here he was, a doctor who saves lives daily.
“It’s nothing. Take care! If you need anything, feel free to ask!”
Margaret said goodbye to the doctor and returned home, lying quietly on her couch. She had been so wrong about the man. And the blue-haired pensioner turned out to be a kind woman. She had approached and showed concern.
The doorbell rang. It was the blue-haired lady, holding the hand of the young girl whom Margaret thought had become a mother too soon.
“I just wanted to check on you and see if you’re okay. Sorry for bringing Emma along, Anna’s at work… I’ve been meaning to introduce myself but didn’t have the courage. This was a good chance though! We all chat with the neighbors, but you keep to yourself.”
“Come in, let me make us some tea,” Margaret said, surprising even herself. “Thank you for your help when I wasn’t well…”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I can tell when someone’s not well. I spent my youth taking care of my sick mother. She got bed-ridden when I was 14 and passed when I was a bit over 30. Had no time to study properly or have a love life, just stayed by her side… Barely managed to have a child. Anyway, let’s not dwell on that. Now I’m making up for lost time in my old age,” she said with a slightly guilty smile, gesturing to her vibrant hair. “Thanks to my daughter for helping with the dyeing, and buying me cool T-shirts. I’m living a little. Anna’s situation is even harder.”
“Who’s Anna?” inquired Margaret.
“Oh, Anna, the flat next to mine—that’s hers. Emma’s her little sister. Her parents died in a car crash. She adopted her sister and is raising her by herself. Dropped her university studies, and works day and night, the poor thing. Matthew helps her with money sometimes. Oh Matthew, he’s the one who helped you today…”
After the neighbor left, Margaret sat silently at her kitchen table staring into space. She should offer Anne some help, maybe babysit Emma sometimes. And perhaps she could finally dye her hair red like she always wanted.
She had always thought it was inappropriate at her age. Tomorrow, for sure, she would consult her neighbor about it! And she must remember to invite Matthew over for some pie to thank him for his help.
