On Holiday
Nimi Kurian
30 May 2009, 15:37My neighbours were fighting again. I could hear every word through the wall. It was as if there was no wall at all.
I live in a semi-detached cottage – a row of cottages, called Hampton Row. There are five cottages in this line. Small and self-sufficient, easy to maintain but rather cold during winter. But I am happy here. Have been for the past 50 years. I moved in here, when I got my first job as a teacher in the school. Hampton Row probably was a part of the Hampton Manor, a hundred years ago. Three of the cottages lie empty. So there is just me at one end and my neighbours next door.
Getting back to my neighbours. They are Ashish and Sheba. They seemed nice enough in the beginning. Calling on me off and on, enquiring about me and when I was out in the garden Sheba would drop in for a chat. It was from these chats that I learnt a lot about them.
Sheba grew up in a well to do home. While they were not exactly millionaires, they were rich all the same. While at college she met Ashish, fell in love with him and married. Her parents were not to happy with Ashish and tried their best to dissuade her. But she was insistent. And three years of marriage and here they were…
I tried to discreetly make enquirties as to whether she was happy in her marriage, but she always skillfully managed to divert the question.
It was almost three months after they moved in that I began to hear the shouting and screaming.
Sometimes it would be just Sheba’s voice shouting, “No! Ashish! No! I won’t do it.”
Other times I could hear her sobbing. It almost broke my heart to hear her.
I often wondered whether I should interfere, but then I could never pluck up enough courage to do so. And so the days turned to weeks and then to months, and the fighting and screaming continued.
The hot summer days were finally over, and then we had rain. Even the rain pattering on the tiles above could not drown out the noises from next door. I was deeply troubled but did not know what to do. I had few friends and may be I should have spoken to them about this. But then I didn’t want to seem like a gossiping old biddy. I just hoped those two would one day simply settle down to enjoy each other’s company.
It was winter now. Warm, sunny days and bitingly chilly nights. By 7 o’clock all I could I think of was curling up in my bed with a nice hot water bottle and my book.
It was one such night, when I heard my neighbours returning. It was a clear, though cold night. And in the small, quiet town which is well asleep by nine at night, every sound is magnified. I was so engrossed in my book that I was startled when I heard the car door slam. They were arguing once again. With my window shut I could not actually hear them, but I could figure out from the tone that it was none too pleasant. I tried to go back to my book, but the noises next door disturbed me.
I could hear her screaming now. And then I heard footsteps – running. And then, just as suddenly everything became quiet. Once again the quiet of the darkness enveloped us all.
Much later, I heard the front door opening and a single set of footsteps going down the footpath. It seemed to be a heavy tread – as if carrying something heavy. The room was chilly, and I was nicely snuggled up under my blanket and I knew my old bones would not take kindly to running up to peer out of the window. So I just lay in bed. I could not read though, for I did feel very uneasy.
“I will check on Sheba first thing in the morning,” I promised myself.
However, the next morning I work with a sore throat and I felt the onset of a fever. I was alarmed for it is indeed a scary thought to be old and alone and falling ill. I quickly called my doctor, who advised me to stay in bed and gave me instructions on what I should eat and so on. When my maid came I asked her to get me my breakfast and I went back to bed. The doctor came by later that morning, prescribed medicines and went away. The next couple of days passed in a daze of medication and dietary food. It was only four days later that I could sit up. I did feel much better.
“Something seems strange,” I thought. “Something is just not right!” But I could not put my finger on it. However, I could not forget it either. This niggling feeling persisted.
A week later, I was up and about and decided I needed to get to the library to change my books. It was a bright, wintry day, pleasant enough to take a walk. So putting my books in my bag I walked off. The library is but a short distance away and I have always enjoyed the walk. As I left my cottage, through force of habit, I glanced at the one next door. The front door was shut and it was silent.
I passed the bakery on the way. The man at the counter waved a cheery hello and came out to talk to me. After the pleasantries, he asked me about Sheba.
“She hasn’t come by for a week now. Is she in town?” he asked.
At that moment something went pop in my head and I realised what the nagging thought in my head was. I hadn’t seen or heard my neighbours for a week! I just hoped that everything was fine with them.
Returning from the library I did some shopping and went home. After lunch I was resting a while in the drawing room when I heard a car stop outside. Tired though I was, I went out. I saw Ashish getting out of the car.
“Hello Ashish, how are you? I haven’t seen Sheba in a long while. I was ill last week and was surprised when she didn’t drop by to see me. She always does y’know..”
Ashish looked at me, he seemed irritated. He brusquely replied, “Sheba has gone on a holiday.”
Suitably chastened, I trundled back to my cottage. I was sitting in the verandah sipping my tea that evening. It was a quiet peaceful evening, and my mind was wandering. I remembered my afternoon’s conversation with Ashish.
“So Sheba has gone on a holiday,” I thought. “Strange, she would have told me before she went away!”
You make it sound like a true story of years gone by…, or may be it was the Hampton spook.
keep it up.
— jude · Jun 7, 06:21 · #