Free The Girl Next Door by Elizabeth Noble Page A

thirty‐five, she looked fifty.’
    ‘Is she… still alive?’
    Emily smiled. ‘She is. She’s single. Has been for a few years. She got herself back on her feet. I think the truly terrible boyfriend – Len, he was called – I think he did her a favour, in a way. She woke up. Decided it was better to be alone than be with someone who made you feel worthless. She has a job – a good job, in a contractor’s office in Portland. She put me through college.’
    ‘She must hate you being so far away.’
    ‘Yes and no. She’s always been totally determined about me. She wants all the things for me she hasn’t had for herself. She wants me to be a success. To be independent. Never to need a man, or let myself be with someone who isn’t good enough – who doesn’t appreciate me enough. You know. Normal mother stuff, but times about ten.’
    Charlotte smiled.
    ‘God. Must be the wine talking. Did we finish that bottle? I’m sorry. You invited me here to talk about plants, and I’ve given you my life story.’
    ‘It’s fine.’
    ‘I never do this.’
    Charlotte giggled. ‘Me neither.’
    They smiled broadly at each other now, each recognizing in the other something that might be the beginnings of real friendship. In Emily’s experience, that was rare in this city. She didn’t often solicit it, and it rarely presented itself this way. She’d lived in her last apartment building for two years, and there was no one there she would still see now that she had moved.
    She knew she was a product of her mother’s experience. Fiercely independent, self‐contained, a nightmare to date.
    Not that she’d done much of that. She didn’t trust men. Or particularly like them. Her childhood had paraded before her a cavalcade of everything she never wanted in a man.
    She wasn’t sure she could ever see herself married. She was too cynical. ‘What about you, Charlotte? Men in your life?’
    Charlotte snorted. ‘Only in print.’ She gestured to the shelves behind her. ‘Seems to me that we’re polar opposites, Emily. You’ve no romance in you, and I’ve nothing but.’
    Emily laughed. ‘Really?’
    ‘My whole life, I’ve dreamed of the big romantic scene – the big gesture…’
    ‘The knight on the white horse?’
    ‘Something like that.’ She laughed, too. Emily wasn’t laughing at her. Not like Madison would be.
    ‘So… end result? Two spinsters. One wants nothing, one wants everything. And we’re both alone.’
    ‘God – spinsters. What a terrible word! Does anyone still say spinster any more?’
    ‘I’ve a friend from college who married an Englishman. Their wedding certificate has her down as a “Spinster of this Parish”.’
    ‘That’s terrible… so Victorian.’
    There was a sudden knock at the door, but Madison didn’t wait for an answer before she burst in. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Emily and Charlotte sitting there. Her eyes narrowed a little, but she still smiled her big white Hollywood smile at them.
    ‘Am I missing a party?’
    ‘This is Emily. Emily just moved into the apartment upstairs. Emily – this is Madison. Madison Cavanagh. She lives next door.’
    ‘Hello.’
    ‘Hi.’ Madison waved. ‘Welcome.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    ‘So you two know each other?’
    ‘Only from the gardening committee.’
    ‘Oh, that. How’s it going…?’ She didn’t sound particularly interested in the answer. Actually, she didn’t even wait for the answer. ‘Charl – have you got bathroom tissue? I’m all out.’
    ‘Hang on.’ Charlotte disappeared into the bathroom.
    Madison smiled, but it was vague and distracted. She played with her hair, flicking it back behind her shoulders. ‘Got a date. Got to be ready in ten. Haven’t even figured out what to wear…’
    Emily nodded. Madison looked as though she was ready to go out already. Charlotte reappeared with a roll of tissue. Madison grabbed it, air‐kissed Charlotte and headed for the door.
    ‘Thanks a million. Gotta run.