‘What are you talking about? That’s what we’re doing! Relaxing on this beautiful day!’ protested Vid, looking genuinely puzzled. ‘What’s more relaxing than a barbeque? I’m going to call Drago. Organise a pig. Oh, and their friends are coming. Remember the cellist? Clementine. Clementine and her husband. What was his name?’
‘Sam,’ said Tiffany, perking up. She’d liked Sam. He had that short, broad-chested blond surfer boy look she used to go for before Vid, and he was funny and easygoing. They’d met them just the once when Erika and Oliver hosted Christmas drinks at their place last year. That had been such a strange night. Vid and Tiffany had never been to a drinks party like it. All these people standing about, talking so quietly, as if they were in a library or church. One woman was drinking a cup of tea.
‘Where’s the food?’ Vid kept whispering too loudly to Tiffany while Oliver and Erika seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time worriedly wiping down already clean kitchen benchtops with dishcloths, as if to make it clear their guests were making a mess but they were on top of it. It had been such a relief when they got introduced to Clementine and Sam. Vid, who loved classical music, had been so excited to learn that Clementine was a cellist, it was almost embarrassing, but then Tiffany and Sam got talking politics and had an enjoyable argument. (He was a bleeding heart but she forgave him that.) ‘Do you think we could order a pizza?’ Sam had whispered at one point and Vid had roared laughing, although then they all had to stop him from pulling out his mobile phone and actually ordering one. Clementine found a chocolate bar in the bottom of her handbag and surreptitiously divided it up among the four of them while poor Erika and Oliver were busy polishing their benchtops. It was like they had all been marooned on a desert island, and had done what they could to survive.
‘They’ve got two little girls,’ said Vid.
‘I remember they said they had little kids,’ said Tiffany. ‘Cutesy little names.’
‘I don’t remember their names,’ said Vid. ‘Anyway, Dakota can play with them, you know, can’t you, Dakota?’ He looked hopefully at Dakota.
‘Uh, guys, there’s someone at the front door,’ said Dakota, without looking up from her book, as Barney, eyes alert, lifted his head from her arm and leaped to the floor, where he ran around in circles, yapping delightedly. Barney liked guests nearly as much as Vid.
Someone was thumping over and over again on the front door, ignoring the doorbell.
‘You didn’t invite them right this very minute, did you?’ said Tiffany. ‘Shh, Barney. Vid, did you?’
Vid was standing at the pantry, pulling out ingredients. ‘Of course I did not,’ he said distractedly, although he was perfectly capable of doing that.
Tiffany went to answer the door, Barney zigzagging excitedly in front of her and almost tripping her up. She found Harry, the old man who lived next door, standing on the front porch, glowering at her, as usual, in his normal outfit of old grey suit trousers (from his old job maybe?) and a white business shirt going yellow around the collar. White tufts of hair spurted from the top button of his shirt. He had white bushy eyebrows just like Barney.
‘Hello, Harry,’ said Tiffany, smiling as nice a smile as she could muster, while thinking, And how have we freaking well offended you today, my elderly friend? ‘How are you?’
‘This keeps happening!’ shouted Harry. ‘It’s unacceptable!’ He handed her a letter addressed to Vid. ‘I’ve spoken to you about it before. I don’t want your mail. I shouldn’t have to deliver your mail. It’s nothing to do with me.’
‘It’s the postman, Harry,’ said Tiffany. ‘He accidentally put it in the wrong letterbox. It happens.’
‘It’s happened before!’ said Harry belligerently.
‘Yes, I think it did happen one other time,’ said Tiffany.
‘Well, you need to put a stop to it! Are you stupid? It’s not my responsibility!’
‘Okay, Harry,’ said Tiffany.
‘Harry, mate!’ Vid strolled out into the hallway, stuffing a handful of purple grapes into his mouth. ‘You want to come to a barbeque later? We’re having Erika and Oliver over! You know, from number seven.’
Harry blinked at Vid. He put his hand inside his shirtfront and scratched. ‘What? No, I don’t want to come to a barbeque.’
‘Ah, that’s a pity,’ said Vid. He put his arm around Tiffany. ‘Maybe another time, but Harry, you know, I don’t want to hear you calling my wife “stupid”. Okay, Harry? That’s not nice. That’s not neighbourly.’
Harry looked at them with his rheumy brown eyes.
‘I don’t want any more of your letters,’ he muttered. ‘Not my responsibility. You’ve got to take responsibility.’
‘We take responsibility,’ said Vid. ‘Don’t you worry about that.’
‘Get that dog away from me!’ said Harry as Barney sniffed his shoe with fascination. Barney lifted his bearded little face, as if his feelings were hurt.
‘Come on, Barney.’ Vid clicked his fingers at the dog.