Read Online The Whiskerly Sisters by BB Occleshaw - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: BB Occleshaw
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she did for herself and reached out a tentative finger to stroke the grizzling child’s wet cheek. The new mother, pale with exhaustion, managed a thin smile and said she hoped this would do the trick. When she felt she had collected enough signatures, she took the document next door. The DGs accepted the petition with good grace, refused her offer of a resolution meeting, closed the door politely and left Charley fuming with impotence in the porch.
The constant disturbance had already frayed her nerves and was now beginning to depress her. She had done everything she could think of to deal with the fuckwits next door, barring harming anything and she had now begun regularly fantasizing about poisoned meat and slow strangulation. Talking to the airhead wife had been a waste of time; the husband had shown himself to be a chav in YSL.
Charlie felt exhausted, frustrated and, worst of all, she was beginning to feel defeated. Weeks of sleepless nights were beginning to show in the dark circles under her eyes and the pinched set to her mouth. Charlie loathed looking anything less than perfect. She had lost her appetite, her sex drive and she was struggling to maintain her composure. She felt that her normally high standards were dropping. It seemed to her that her life was spiralling alarmingly out of control. Worst of all, she was beginning to believe there was nothing she could do to change the situation. The ingrates next door rose effortlessly above her and, if anything, had seemed to increase their volume. Smug in the conviction that she was Hitler in a thong, that the entire neighbourhood were Fascists and there was nothing anybody could do to stop them, the DGs enjoyed being the clear winners.
Charley found her only relief was at the gym, taking her frustration out on her class, working herself and her group into a near stupor in the hope of relieving the itch of her irritation. Charley would have tried putting her house on the market, but with the recession in full swing, nothing was selling and anyway who would want to buy a house next door to Hell’s Zoo?
III
Returning from class one night, feeling morose at the thought of another barrage of noise, Charley drove into the garage, switched off the engine, and exited the car, savagely slamming the garage doors behind her to give the ingrates next door a taste of their own medicine. She paused on the driveway, watching the pale moon flit between the scudding primrose tinted clouds and inhaled the welcome smell of the lavender that was just beginning to bloom in her front garden. She stood quite still for a few moments, simply enjoying the tranquillity of a late spring evening.
Charley stirred. She hesitated. Something was different but she couldn’t work out what it was. Taking another lungful of air, she deliberately relaxed her breathing whilst outwardly probing the landscape with her internal antennae.
Something was different. It was quiet. Impossible and yet there it was again, the sound of silence – really quite deafening.
“My God,” thought Charley. “They must have gone out.” She turned to face her neighbour’s house and saw that there were no cars on the driveway. For the first time since forever, the DG’s were not at home. Her face relaxed into a delighted grin and she broke into a little samba on the flagstones as her mood changed from one of defensive apprehension at the thought of the noise inevitably waiting for her to one of sunlit goodwill and peace toward all men on earth. Immediately she decided to go for a late night skinny dip in the Jacuzzi whilst listening to her favourite CD before settling down to watch the news and then off to bed. She would break open the Prosecco and relax in the tub – bubbles on bubbles. Perfect.
Fifteen minutes later found Charley relaxing in the hot tub, naked under the foam with a glass of chilled wine by her side; her head comfortably resting against the padded edge of the Jacuzzi and her eyes closed as
The constant disturbance had already frayed her nerves and was now beginning to depress her. She had done everything she could think of to deal with the fuckwits next door, barring harming anything and she had now begun regularly fantasizing about poisoned meat and slow strangulation. Talking to the airhead wife had been a waste of time; the husband had shown himself to be a chav in YSL.
Charlie felt exhausted, frustrated and, worst of all, she was beginning to feel defeated. Weeks of sleepless nights were beginning to show in the dark circles under her eyes and the pinched set to her mouth. Charlie loathed looking anything less than perfect. She had lost her appetite, her sex drive and she was struggling to maintain her composure. She felt that her normally high standards were dropping. It seemed to her that her life was spiralling alarmingly out of control. Worst of all, she was beginning to believe there was nothing she could do to change the situation. The ingrates next door rose effortlessly above her and, if anything, had seemed to increase their volume. Smug in the conviction that she was Hitler in a thong, that the entire neighbourhood were Fascists and there was nothing anybody could do to stop them, the DGs enjoyed being the clear winners.
Charley found her only relief was at the gym, taking her frustration out on her class, working herself and her group into a near stupor in the hope of relieving the itch of her irritation. Charley would have tried putting her house on the market, but with the recession in full swing, nothing was selling and anyway who would want to buy a house next door to Hell’s Zoo?
III
Returning from class one night, feeling morose at the thought of another barrage of noise, Charley drove into the garage, switched off the engine, and exited the car, savagely slamming the garage doors behind her to give the ingrates next door a taste of their own medicine. She paused on the driveway, watching the pale moon flit between the scudding primrose tinted clouds and inhaled the welcome smell of the lavender that was just beginning to bloom in her front garden. She stood quite still for a few moments, simply enjoying the tranquillity of a late spring evening.
Charley stirred. She hesitated. Something was different but she couldn’t work out what it was. Taking another lungful of air, she deliberately relaxed her breathing whilst outwardly probing the landscape with her internal antennae.
Something was different. It was quiet. Impossible and yet there it was again, the sound of silence – really quite deafening.
“My God,” thought Charley. “They must have gone out.” She turned to face her neighbour’s house and saw that there were no cars on the driveway. For the first time since forever, the DG’s were not at home. Her face relaxed into a delighted grin and she broke into a little samba on the flagstones as her mood changed from one of defensive apprehension at the thought of the noise inevitably waiting for her to one of sunlit goodwill and peace toward all men on earth. Immediately she decided to go for a late night skinny dip in the Jacuzzi whilst listening to her favourite CD before settling down to watch the news and then off to bed. She would break open the Prosecco and relax in the tub – bubbles on bubbles. Perfect.
Fifteen minutes later found Charley relaxing in the hot tub, naked under the foam with a glass of chilled wine by her side; her head comfortably resting against the padded edge of the Jacuzzi and her eyes closed as
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