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The Hanging Basket.

     All along the three storey houses of Finch street
slender balconies, made haphazardly out of pine,
protruded awkwardly. The street formed part of a
housing development from the 70's and the rickety
balconies were showing their age. Each house was
identical to it's neighbour at birth, but twenty years of
neglect punctuated briefly by fresh coats of paint when
tenancies changed, had made each in their own way
unique.
     Number 28 was on the corner where Finch St.
met Chaffinch Crescent, Raymond had lived there since
the estate was built. He had worked for a time on the
stock market and it was said that he'd earned a good
deal doing so. He didn't work now, spending his time
leaning on the garden  wall talking to the passers-by
and watching the world grow old.
     Andy and Emma had only been married for a
fortnight when they moved in next door. The  house had
been empty for four years now and was looking
especially decrepit. The numbers on the gate had
rusted in to the wood and the faded green gloss paint
peeled like dandruff from the balcony and window
frames. The newlyweds were enthusiastic however and
still believed that anything might be achieved if they
tackled it together. They had been to the south of
France for  their honeymoon and had brought back
many exciting ideas for their home. These included,
among other things, big plans for the balcony.
     "You see," said Andy to Raymond, over the
garden fence, "we want to get the front of the house
tidied as quickly as possible, restore an air of
respectability to the place."
     "Oh yes, she could use a little care and
attention," he replied, "once you've sorted her out it
won't take much to keep her spick and span. The
garden, on the other hand, will take years to put
straight, there are more dandelions than grass on that
lawn now."
     "I know," said Andy, touching his finger to his
head "but I'm getting one of my friends from the office
to work on it. He's got a rotovator you see and he'll use
that to churn the soil up thoroughly, then we'll lay turf
down."
     "That's cheating! But you'll get it done quickly, I'll
give you that."
     "The inside needs a lot of decorating too,
structurally it's sound but the whole thing needs a lick
of paint and a covering of wallpaper. But that is the
wife's job, she has a better eye for these things than
me. My God!" he exclaimed, "I'm sounding middle aged
and we've not been married  a month yet. Are you
married, Raymond?"
     "Call me Ray, please. No I'm happily divorced,
thank-you. An amiable split, no kids, she still had her
career, didn't want anything from me. Didn't even want
the house," he said, gesturing  backwards with his
thumb, "I don't think she ever really settled here to be
honest with you. That was over fifteen years ago now.
She still pops in occasionally, when she's on her way
down to London."
     "What are the couple at Number 26 like? I think
I caught a glimpse of them when the Pickfords people
were moving our stuff in. They've got young kids,
haven't they?"
     "Oh dear me, no!" he laughed in his usual
chuckle which seemed to rock the fence, "You can rest
easy on that score at least. No, they're an elderly
couple, the Jamesons, you probably saw  the grandkids
that's all. Mary makes the most wonderful cakes."
     He wet his freckly lips thoughtfully and looked
again at his new neighbour. Andy was in his mid
twenties, had dark hair which was thinning at the
temples and a slight structure from which his clothes
tended to droop rather than hang. Emma was a plain
looking woman, probably slightly younger than her
spouse, who had a fondness for patterned dresses. She
leaned out of an upstairs window in a ragged paint
spattered shirt and called out to them.
     "Oh, sorry to interrupt, darling. But I was
wondering if you could give me a hand with the
wallpaper."
     "Well, nature calls." said Andy, "Nice talking to
you, you must pop round later for a coffee, or
something stronger even."
     "Andy! Get your arse up here now!" Emma
yelped.
     "Bye." whispered Andy and dashed inside.
     Ray stood back from the fence and brushed the
leaves from his shirt.
     "Ah, Mrs. Jefferies, how are the kittens?" he
exclaimed, noticing a lady struggling along the
pavement with a couple of supermarket plastic bags.


     A battered and in some places charred wooden
stepladder balanced precariously under the balcony.
Progress was being made on the exterior, but it was
proving to be less enjoyable than anticipated. Andy
perched, parrot-like on the step ladder and wiped at the
weathered pine with a sheet of sandpaper.
     "The thing about him that fascinated me was the
way that whenever he spoke it felt like he was telling
me the worlds deepest, darkest secret." Emma confided
to Ray as they sat on deckchairs on his lawn and
squinted nervously up at Andy, who looked set to drop
at any moment. "He'd lean forward and talk in a
nervous whisper whenever we spoke, no matter how
mundane the subject. I suppose that's why I started to
confide in him and before we knew it we were almost
magically aware of each others feelings. Then we fell in
love."
     "He doesn't look particularly safe up there." said
Ray in a concerned tone, "I say, Andy!"
     Andy looked round.
     "Do you want me to have a go, you look
absolutely knackered. Come down and have a Coke."
he picked up a can from the icebox by his side and
waved it aimlessly in the air, "Come down and relax,
talk to your charming wife while I do the work."
     "If you insist." Andy said grinning, "You could do
with the exercise, eh?"
     "I'd get down here bloody quick before I change
my mind."
     Andy came down the steps, very carefully and
walked around to his neighbours garden.
     "Here you go then," he said, handing Ray the
sandpaper, "and thank-you I really appreciate this."
     "No trouble at all." And with that he strolled away
leisurely and ascended the ladder. Then came the slow
scrape of sand on wood, as rhythmical as drumbeat.

     "That was very kind of him." said Emma as she
pulled the can open with a muted fizz.
     "You're still biased because he liked your
cooking!" laughed Andy, winking at her kindly.
     "At least he showed appreciation which is more
than can be said for some people around here."
     "I love your cooking, honestly darling. Anyway I
don't recall you singing the praises of any of the things
I do."
     "Then we should make a resolution to appreciate
each other more."
     "Here, here."
     They touched coke cans.

     "I've been thinking," Ray yelled, "this would be a
really good place to put a hanging basket or two."
     He pointed at the bottom of the balcony with a
flick of his thumb.
     "Good idea Ray!"
     "What sort of flowers did you have in mind?"
     "Well," said Ray patiently, "you said that you
wanted to paint it all blue, so we could do with a
contrast don't you think? Something red, that trails
perhaps, how about love lies bleeding?"
     "Sounds good Ray." they chorused.
     "He's such a nice man." said Emma.
     "I wonder what went wrong with his marriage,
when I spoke to him about it he said that the separation
was fairly amicable." Andy lowered his voice, almost to
a whisper.
     "Well, to be honest I can't see him being the
cause of any bust up. He's so gentle."
     "Yep, he's very laid back."
     "I think it'd be very interesting to see what she is
like."

     "There we go!" shouted Ray merrily, "Shall I start
on the painting?"
     "No, don't worry about it. Leave it to me." Andy
called back.


     The summer nights became shorter and the
hanging baskets on 27 Finch Street bloomed, seeming
to explode in a carmine cascade of dusty vegetation.
The front of the house looked fresh and uncomfortable
on the tumbledown road, but it was a source of
considerable pride to the owners. The local schools
gratefully gave up their burden for the summer, for it
was the parents turn and Finch Street was filled with
kids playing football and roller skating.
     "Fuck you!" screamed a little voice, "That was a
goal!"
     "Piss off, it was over the fucking bar." came the
reply.

     "They grow up so fast these days." sighed Ray
to Andy, who was looking over the fence
disapprovingly.
     "They shouldn't be playing in the road. Where
are the parents?" he asked tetchily.
     "Oh, by the way are you free to come to dinner
this Thursday?"
     "Yes, I think so, I'll have to check with Emma first
but I think we can make it."
     "Oh good! You see, Mary, my ex-wife is staying,
she's going to a conference in Oxford or something,
new techniques in capillary electrophoresis, it sounds
a bit high brow to me, I'd appreciate it if you could
come."
     He smiled contentedly and looked towards the
children.
     "In answer to your earlier question, his parents,"
he pointed to the goalie, "have gone away for a couple
of days, it's their twelfth wedding anniversary. He's
staying with his Aunt and Uncle who live on Marpool
lane."
     "He's got quite a mouth on him for his age. I
mean I didn't know half of the words he's using until
well into my teens. Even then, if I ever used them in
public I got a damn good thrashing I can tell you."
     "Do you think you'll have kids?" said Ray
unassumingly.
     "Well Em wants to, but I want to wait a few years,
you know, have some time alone before taking on the
responsibility."
     "It's my one regret."
     "I think you'd make a great dad Ray."
     "Do you think so? Maybe," he sighed, "but I think
that it's a bit late for that now."
     "Nonsense, it's never too late."
     "I wouldn't have put you down as a romantic."
chuckled Ray.
     "Who said anything about romance?" asked
Andy, grinning stupidly "I have to hand it to you actually
Ray, the hanging baskets look stunning."
     "They do don't they, and here comes Emma."
     "Hey Em, are we doing anything Thursday?" he
slipped his arm around her cotton swathed waist, "Ray
has asked us round for dinner, his ex-wife is down from
Leeds."
     "Yes, we're free," then to Ray, "We'd love to
come."
     "Fantastic, see you at about 8?"
     A fight broke out on the street.
     "Poor dears." said Emma.


     "For God's sake! Straighten your tie." nervously
Emma reached over and did it herself, "Please don't
talk about your work, I hate it when you do that."
     "But the promotion darling, it was so
unexpected."
     "Please." she pleaded.
     He smiled and leaned over to kiss her on the
cheek as the door was opened. Ray stood there in his
apron, under which Emma noticed instantly that he was
dressed casually. Andy gave her his I told you so look
and said,
     "Good evening Raymond!" he held out his hand
in a business-like manner. Ray grabbed it and gave him
a quick hug.
     "Well, you two do look smart, are you going
somewhere special?"
     "Wherever you are is a special place, Ray."
quipped Andy while his wife cringed.
     "Will you come in please?" he waved his hand
into the hall, and they all entered the sitting room where
a petite woman in a plain patterned dress was reading
the back of a paperback, she tossed it lightly to one
side as they entered and stood up.
     "Hello, I'm Mary." she offered them each her
hand.
     "Lovely to meet you." said Emma, noticing the
permed hair and guessing that she wore contact
lenses.
     "Ray has told me so much about you, I feel as if
I know you both already."
     "He's mentioned you once or twice too."
     "Well Andy," said Ray, before the conversation
started to flag, "I hear that congratulations are in order."
     "Well yes, I've had an unexpected promotion at
work but," he narrowed his eyes "how did you know
about that, I only heard myself today."
     "I was chatting to an old chum of mine at a
dinner party last night. He's done rather well for himself
actually and is now director of financial services at the
Stretweiser Corporation. When he said that I knew that
I'd heard about it before and it took me almost half an
hour to remember that it was where you work. Yes, he's
done very well for himself, I remember the days when
he got bollocked at school for not remembering his
tables."
     "You know Harvey Baines?" said Andy, raising
his eyebrows.

     "Don't you hate it when they start talking
business." Mary sighed.
     "And," said Emma ruefully, "I asked him
especially not to."
     "I don't blame him at all, it's just Ray being Ray
again." reassured Mary.

     Before dinner was served Mary and Emma had
become the best of friends, as only women can. The
meal was simple but extremely effective, in many ways
the shadow of it's creator. As a starter was salad with
and oil and vinaigrette dressing, the main meal was
braised chicken breast in a peppery sauce with various
vegetables available in the centre of the table, to be
chosen as desired. For desert Ray produced a tangy
lemon cheesecake. The conversation moved quickly
away from business, to the relief of everyone and on to
what Andy was like as a child.
     "His mum told me," confided Emma, who's
tongue had loosened considerably with the aid of half
a bottle of white wine, "that he didn't like swings
because they made his willy feel funny."
     "Shall we have coffee? Good, if you would care
to move in to the lounge I'll be with you in a second."
Ray disappeared into the kitchen.
     "Why did you two split up?" asked Emma who
had suddenly become serious.
     "Come through in to the lounge and I'll let you in
to a little secret."
     The lounge was a small candle-lit room with a
sofa and a couple of easy chairs.
     "Well," she continued, as Emma leaned her head
on Andy's shoulder, "the problem is, that when I knew
Raymond he was incapable of devoting his life to just
one person."
     "He had an affair?" said Andy, looking surprised.
     "No, nothing like that. He is just too wrapped up
in people. His life seemed to be devoted to knowing
everyone in the world. But not just knowing, Ray wants
to know everyone's deepest darkest secrets. Ray was
created to be the worlds confidant, and the worlds
confident seems to have found that it is a lonely place
to be."
     "Heh?" grunted Emma, who wasn't sober enough
for subtlety.
     "To begin with, he lived for a time only for me.
He really did love me I think." she tailed off.
     "What happened?"
     "He began to get involved and to worry about
other people, no, more than that, he began to worry
about everyone he met."
     "Do you think you'll ever get back together?"
     "I've a husband and two children I adore, Martin
is a wonderful man, and gives me more attention than
I deserve." she rubbed her eyes.
     "I think that it's really great the way you two still
get on so well." grinned Emma, who had begun to
emphasise words that took her fancy because she was
drunkenly detached enough to hear her own voice.
     "It's nice...." Mary tailed off.
     "Here comes the coffee." said Andy, just in case
the ladies, his wife in particular, hadn't noticed Ray
enter with a tray.
     "The man himself!" chuckled Emma.
     "We're not delving into my dim and murky past
are we?" Ray winked at Mary "Have we reached the bit
about my heroin addiction yet? Do you have milk in
your coffee Andy?"
     "No thanks, black with no sugar. That's great."
     "You have yours with two sugars?" he asked
Emma, but she was dozing.
     "And for you Mary dearest, white with one
sugar."
     "Hold the sugar, please," she interrupted hastily
"I use these sweetener things now."
     She took a little white plastic dispenser out of her
purse and with a click she pressed a brown button on
it's side which dropped a little pill into her coffee.
     "I have to watch my figure these days."
     "I shouldn't worry." assured Ray.
     "We all know you don't!" joked Andy.
     Ray patted his girth and shrugged.
     "Does anyone fancy a games of Trivial
Pursuits?"

     The wind breathed in short gusts, causing the
trees to sway and a palpable tension to develop within
Emma. Andrew had been politely required to attend an
outward bound course based in the Breacon Hills. It
was now autumn and the skies had turned downy grey.
He was quite excited as it would give him the chance to
release and show-off the leadership skills that he knew
lay concealed within him.
     "Don't go." said Emma.
     "It's only for a couple of days, besides I thought
that you'd appreciate the chance to get me from under
your feet for a while. Relax, have some  personal
quality time'"
     "See, that's all these courses give you, catch
phrases!"
     "It's better than nothing."
     "It's stupid."
     "Well I'm looking forward to it."
     "Fine." her lips became thin, as they did when
she was about to cry.
     "I'll see you on Sunday." he kissed her on the
forehead and drove off in their turquoise Ford Scorpio,
a company car.
     Emma watched him turn left into Chaffinch
Crescent and then shut the front door.

     Ray was in his conservatory, which he'd had
built onto the back of the house. He was spraying his
cacti with fungicide when the phone rang.
     "Hello, Kidderminster eight-four-three, seven-six-three."
     "Hello Ray, it's Emma."
     "Em? Where are you?"
     "Next door."
     "You could have come  round, did Andy get off
alright?"
     "Yes, Ray, are you busy at the moment?"
     "Not particularly, what's the trouble?"
     "Ah, well, I'm not really sure." she paused for a
while, "The kitchen floor is making a strange noise."
     "What?"
     "It's sort of...... squeaking."
     "This is ridiculous, I'll be over in a jiffy."
     "It's not too much trouble?"
     "See you in a minute."
     "Bye."

     Ray lay motionless on the kitchen floor with his
ear pressed against the cool white tiles. He did this, not
to hear the scratching sound, but more in order to
check that it really was coming from beneath.
     "How odd." he remarked as he got up, "It's only
just started to happen, you say?"
     "We thought we could hear something similar in
the front room a couple of times, but we put it down to
the water pipes. It's never gone on for as long as this
before."
     Ray tapped tentatively with the toe of his boot.
There was a hollow ring to the noise it made.
     "Well, there's something under there, that's for
certain. I've got some tools in the potting shed, I could
lift up a couple of the tiles and see what the matter is,
if you don't mind. I'd put it  all back good-as-new
afterwards."
     "Good-as-new? Thanks Ray, it'd really put me at
ease, there's something unnatural about that noise
somehow."
     As Ray went to get the tools he reassured her
that he would be back shortly. The whole affair was
beginning to make her feel decidedly queasy, so she
went for a little lie down on the sofa. She let her eyelids
gently close and began to daydream. Rain played
gently on the window. Emma felt at ease, Ray had it all
in hand. She didn't feel as confident in Andy's abilities,
they would have been screaming at each other at this
point. The patter of the rain intensified. Emma opened
her eyes and swung her legs so that she was sitting up.
The paperback that Andy had been reading was lying
on the floor. She turned it over in her hands,  The
Worlds of Robert F. Young'. Trashy science fiction,  Be
careful! - the blurb warned - what you expect to happen
never does. They all contain unlooked for surprises...'.
"Science-fiction?" she thought, "It sounds more like life
to me.". The sound of rain lashing against the window
pane startled her. Then she heard scratching. Hastily
rising from her seat she stubbed her toe on the
fireplace.
     "Fuck!" she screamed, leaning heavily on the
window sill. Outside the sun streamed intensely on the
turf and the sky was an unblemished blue. With horror
she realised that the patter and scratching were coming
from beneath the floorboards. She hobbled into the hall
with difficulty as her eyes blurred with tears.
     "It's," she sobbed the words at Ray as he walked
in with a toolbox, "in the lounge, now."
     "That's odd." he went in to investigate as Emma
slouched on the stairs. He re-emerged, shrugging his
shoulders.
     "It seems to have stopped. We'll have a look in
the kitchen shall we?"

     With meticulous care Ray chipped the grout
tentatively from a centrally placed tile using the rubber
mallet and chisel he'd fetched.
     "Shhhh!" he motioned as he stopped to listen
one last time. In total silence he eased the chisel under
the tile, it resisted briefly and then with a pop it's secret
was revealed. The dry concrete base was veined with
cracks which had been stuffed with newspaper. Ray
chuckled and prodded the paper with the chisel, it
disintegrated with a crackle and fell into a shallow pit
beneath.
     "What an anticlimax! Shoddy flooring." he
concluded getting up and brushing himself down.
     "I saw something move!" hissed Emma.
     "Look." he kicked the concrete and it crumbled
like a sandcastle, "Just poor workmanshi..."
     A horrible inhuman screech came from the
fissure.
     "What the hell was that?" hollered Ray.
     Then, with a patter a stream of grey fur flowed
from the crack.
     "Rats!" they yelled in unison and ran outside.

     "I'll phone for the exterminator," panted Ray as
he regained composure, "the little buggers must have
got in to the cavities in the floor, which the builders
thought they could just stuff with paper."
     Emma, who was still wide-eyed and hysterical,
yelped
     "I'm not going back in there until every one of
those things is dead, and gone."
     "OK, ok, come and have a coffee while I sort it
out."

     Cardboard boxes filled with old clothes and
board games littered Roy's cosy lounge. Emma was
curled up on the sofa as he walked back in with a golf
bag full of dusty clubs into which had crept a couple of
pool cues.
     "You can stay in the spare room for a few days,
the man from Rodentkill said that you should be able to
move back in on Tuesday." he looked wonderingly at
the boxes, "I can't believe how much useless tat I've
accumulated over the years, it comes of having lived for
so long in the same place I suppose. I've never liked
throwing anything out. I mean, look at this, a monopoly
set with half the houses missing, oh, and the hat, we
lost that in Victoria, Canada, shortly after we were
married. Monopoly isn't the same without the hat, is it?
It's the piece that everyone always wants to be. I
wonder why that is. It's probably due to some instinct,
at least that's what Jung would probably say.  The
collective unconscious'. I've never really bought into
that idea myself."
     Emma was looking up at him with watery eyes.
     "I don't know what I'd do without you." she
muttered.
     "You and Andy would be living in a gorgeous
house, without hanging baskets, that's all."
     "I sometimes wish," she confided, "that the extra
weight would bring the balcony crashing down on his
head. I've been restless recently, Ray. I'm changing.
Andy's still the same as ever, but he's noticed. He
thinks it's because I want kids."
     "You don't?"
     "There's nothing I want more, but it's something
more than that, I feel that I'm growing, but he's holding
me, us, back. I wake up next to him and feel ill. I don't
know if it's me or him  that's causing it, a dull relentless
ache in my gut. I still love him, but there are little things
little habits he has that drive me mad. He can never find
his keys..." she disintegrated into tears.
     Ray sat down next to her and gave her a
neighbourly hug.
     "You're just getting used to having each other
around, that's all. You haven't been married even a
year yet and you're still adapting."
     She buried her face in the cushion and he had to
lean forward to make out her reply.
     "It seems years."
     "Is it the children thing?  Cause he said he wants
sprogs, just that he doesn't feel he could cope now."
     "It's him! I don't know him. He's so familiar he's
a stranger."
     She lifted her head suddenly, brushing her
searing lips against his. Her stormy breath blustered on
his cheek a her eyes, guileless with tears gazed at a
pottery urn of dried flowers. She leaned forward and
once more their lips touched.

     "What a brief affair this has turned out to be."
sighed Ray.
     "Yeah, I thought that we'd be staying here a little
while longer, but they're moving me on  to the
Canterbury office and what with the little one on the
way we could do with a bigger garden. Then there was
all that rat business, God only knows what other little
secrets this house has."
     "You seem to be looking forward to being a Dad."
chuckled Ray.
     "It was unexpected, but it really couldn't have
come at a better time. It feels right, if you know what I
mean."
     "I think, for once I do, I've decided to move up
north. It'll give me a chance to see some old friends I've
neglected horribly."
     "Well, you know what they say,  a thing-umy-jig
is as good as a change'."
     "Quite."
     "I'd better go and see to the packing, here's the
new address." he produced a neatly printed card from
a pile of a hundred that he'd made at one of those
machines at stations and airports.
     "We'll have to have a get-together to see you off
in style."
     "Please don't, eh? We're going to the Heath
hotel on Thursday night for a few drinks and a meal,
just for close friends, you could bring a lady friend if
you'd like."
     "Thanks, but it'll just be me."
     "Oh, ok."
     Emma came out into the garden.
     "How's the packing coming, darling?"
     "Alright but I could do with a hand for some of
the furniture."
     "Well I'd better get to it, eh?"
     "I'll be in in a minute." she called after him.
     "So, everything is alright between you two now?"
Ray inquired casually, looking straight into her eyes.
     "Yes, everything is really lovely now. I'm grateful
for the move, it is a nice neighbourhood around here
but I need a bit more privacy."
     "It would be, reassuring."
     "I think becoming a father really suits Andy, he's
thrilled about it all. The balcony looks reassuringly solid
these days, I don't wish for anything anymore."
     "Oh ok." Ray felt lost.
     "Did Andy tell you about Thursday? If you come
round at seven you can get the taxi with us."
     "Whatever."
     "See you then."
     "Bye."
     She walked inside without looking back. The
lawn was starting to look scrubby, it was bald in places
and little yellow flowers were emerging from amidst the
tufty grass.


©1998 Mark Sexton