Maisie was tired when she got home from work Saturday evening. The boutique had been busy all day and she sighed contentedly as she kicked off her shoes and sank down on the settee. It felt strange being alone in the flat and once her pizza delivery had arrived she made sure the door was locked and the chain on. It might be Saturday evening when she should be going out somewhere but she was looking forward to slobbing out in front of the TV with her supper and a glass of wine for a couple of hours before going to bed.
Hours later, loud shouting in the corridor outside woke Maisie up with a start. Blearily she glanced at the clock. One o’clock. A drunken neighbour coming home after an evening out. It happened sometimes. At least she was safe and secure in the flat and not trying to sleep hiding away in a shop doorway somewhere, praying none of the local druggies would see her.
She snuggled down under her duvet, wishing they’d hurry up and carry on upstairs. Then the banging started on the flat door. And a voice she recognised shouting, ‘Maisie. Open the door and talk to me.’
John.
Bang. Bang. Should she get up and threaten to phone the police if he didn’t go away? Should she phone the police anyway? Damn, she couldn’t do that in any case. She remembered she’d left her mobile on the coffee table in the sitting room.
‘I’m not leaving until you’ve talked to me.’ Bang. No way was she going to open the door. If she didn’t answer, perhaps John would think she wasn’t in and give up and go away.
Fleetingly she wished Tina was in the next bedroom, that she wasn’t alone in the flat. Slowly she got out of bed and made her way into the sitting room and felt for her phone in the dark. Pointless to put a light on; it would only alert John to the fact she was in and awake. Picking up the phone, she was turning to go back to the bedroom when she heard another man’s voice. If two of them were going to be banging on her door it was definitely time to phone the police.
But the other voice was quieter and, with relief, Maisie realised that whoever it was was trying to reason with John.
‘Come on, mate, go home. You’ve had too much to drink and you’re waking up everyone in the building.’
‘I don’t give a damn about anyone else,’ John shouted. ‘You can butt out and mind your own business. Maisie, open this bloody door. I know you’re in there. I’ve come to say goodbye.’
‘If this Maisie’s got any sense, opening the door is the last thing she’s going to do. Saying goodbye is a good idea, though, because if you don’t shut up and go away right now, I’m phoning the police,’ the quiet voice said.
‘Already done. They’re on their way.’ A voice Maisie recognised as belonging to the neighbour in the next-door flat. Maisie heard a door close.
The flat door vibrated under a last kick. ‘I’m not hanging around here for the fuzz. I’m away off back home tomorrow. You’re a stupid bint not coming with me.’ Another kick of the door.
‘I’ll walk you downstairs,’ the second voice said. ‘Make sure you’re off the premises.’
Maisie stood listening to the sound of John crashing down the stairs until she could only hear silence. Then she released a huge breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in. He was gone. She switched on the light. The next minute she caught her breath again as there was a gentle knock on the door.
‘I’m not sure whether you’re there listening or not, but your unwanted caller has gone now. I hope you’re OK?’
Maisie moved across to the door and whispered, ‘Thank you. I’m fine. I can’t thank you enough for getting rid of him.’
‘Think it was the thought of the police arriving that did that in the end. I’m off to bed now. I’m in the flat directly above you, so if he comes back, just bang on the ceiling and I’ll come straight down. Night.’
‘Night,’ Maisie said. ‘And thank you again.’
Back in bed she tossed and turned for a while, Tina’s worry about John stalking her uppermost in her mind so that she half-expected him to return and start shouting and banging again. Eventually she fell asleep thinking about ‘the voice’ from upstairs. He was definitely her hero of the night.
It was gone nine o’clock when a wintry sun shining through the curtains eventually woke her. Lying in bed looking up at the ceiling, she wondered who the owner of last night’s voice was. Tina had told her there was a middle-aged man in that flat. Had he moved out? ‘The voice’ didn’t sound old but he had definitely said he was living in the upstairs flat. Whoever he was, she owed him for last night.
A feeling that was reinforced when she opened her iPad and saw the email from John. Maisie read it with increasing disbelief and then read it again, not believing how vindictive and bitter it was, before moving it to the trash box and deleting it. He must still have been drunk when he sent it.
She could only hope he didn’t repeat any of it when he got home because if her dad heard about it… well, there was no knowing what would happen. Her parents had already fallen out with John’s parents over the way he’d treated her. There was no doubt, though, that this signified the absolute end between her and John.
Knowing she didn’t have to be at the boutique until the afternoon, Maisie spent the morning browsing the stalls in the local Sunday market looking for something small she could buy ‘the voice’ as a thank you. Eventually she stopped by a chocolate stall. Everyone liked chocolate, didn’t they? And these were handmade and special – and expensive, she realised, as she handed over several pound coins for just six chocolates nestling in a box.
Back at the flats she went up an extra flight of stairs and knocked on the door of the flat she’d worked out was above Tina’s. A man old enough to be her father opened the door. ‘Hello. Can I help you?’
He wasn’t the unknown man from last night. ‘Umm, could I speak to the other person who was here last night, please?’
‘You want my nephew, Sean?’
‘I don’t know his name but I think so,’ Maisie said, feeling foolish. ‘I wanted to say thanks for what he did last night. I live in the flat below and…’
‘Maisie?’
She smiled at the younger man who’d appeared behind the one she was talking to. That was his voice. ‘Yes. These are for you. I’m very grateful for what you did last night. I’m sorry it’s only a few chocolates but I’m told they’re very good.’ Suddenly feeling shy, she thrust them into his hands, smiled again and then practically ran down the stairs to her own place.