Maxwell Fairhurst had been observing the house-moving from the opposite side, number 22. He wished that a fit bit like Brooke Ames, whose head he had seen popping over the fence from number 24, was not leaving Hope Academy in the summer. He still had another year to go. Finally, he tired of watching the parade of boxes going into Robert Farrah’s new home and wandered over to the young black kid sat on the wall of number 28.
"How’s it going, brother?"
"I’m not your brother, Max."
"I thought we was all brothers under the skin, Luther."
"Why aren’t you going in your house?"
"My old man’s gonna be there and he’ll give me grief if I turn up this early."
"How do you know he’s home?"
"Cuz the curtains are drawn. He’s at what he calls work. What about you? Where your folks be at?"
"They’ll both be at work at their pet shop. And stop trying to talk like some black rapper. I don’t know anyone who talks like that."
Max looked down at his shoes. "OK. I’m sorry. I just thought it sounded cool."
"Well, you’re the wrong colour and in the wrong neighbourhood."
"I said I’m sorry." Max was still embarrassed. He wanted to ask how come Luther was also home from school so early in the afternoon, but didn’t like to ask. He tried to think of something else to say. "That Brooke Ames, she’s alright, isn’t she?"
"Her sister Celine’s not bad either."
The two boys laughed and touched fists. "My man," said Max, with a grin.
"Do you want and come and wait inside for a while before your dad sees you?"
"That’d be cool."
Luther heaved himself off the wall and Max followed him. "When are your parents due home?" he asked. "I thought you was locked out?"
"Not till they close the shop for the day, which won’t be for ages."
"So how come you’re home so early?"
"I dunno. They said the teacher wasn’t coming in at the last minute and they couldn’t get cover. They told us to go to the library."
"You got books in the house?"
"‘Course."
"Well then – your home is a library."
****
Douglas was hovering at the end of his drive at number 25. He was relieved when Sammy finally left the Farrahs and returned to his own home next door. He wiped his palms nervously on the front of his pants then stepped forward to meet the new arrivals.
"Hello?" He called out. "Anybody about?"
Getting no answer, he moved further into the lounge, examining the few things that had spilled from boxes or been placed on window sills. He was studying a large hi-fi unit when Nasreen came in the room.
"Oh!" she said.
Douglas jumped and spun round. "Good grief!" He pointed to the doorway. "I did call out but nobody answered. I didn’t realise you were… er…"
"Asian?" She tried to help him.
"Ah. Er, well… that too. No… what I meant was, I thought you had disappeared."
Robert appeared and stood next to Nasreen. "Darling, who’s this?"
"I’m not sure just yet."
"Oh – I’m Douglas." He extended a hand like giving away a dirty rag. "Next door but one," he was pointing again, "that way. You’ve got a new job in the area, I take it?"
"Yes," said Robert, "I’m going to be teaching IT courses at the Hope Academy."
"Oh, excellent. Mint."
"And what do you do?" said Nasreen.
"Well, I’m a bit between jobs at the moment, to be honest. Which was why I was calling. New house and all. If you’ve got any odd-jobs, Douglas is your man. I got good hands, see. I can fix just about anything."
"That’s nice to know."
"You don’t learn skills like this at school, I can tell you. Tell you what, come down The Stormy Petrel tonight and we can talk about it."
"‘The Stormy’ what?"
"‘Petrel’ It’s a bird of some kind. And also the name of the local pub. You can buy me a drink, and you can meet my Maddy. She works behind the bar."
Another figure appeared in the doorway, this one almost blocking out the light.
Douglas looked at the newcomer. "I’ll be off," he said, and unceremoniously vanished.
"Has this house got a number or did we rename it Piccadilly Circus?" said Robert to no-one in particular.
"Please forgive us all crowding round. Nothing much ever happens in Magnolia Close. I’m Buster Keaton."
"What?" Robert exclaimed.
"Liam Keaton," he corrected. "But everybody calls me Buster. You’ll get used to it. I’m a copper down the local nick."
"Is there much crime round here? The estate agents said it was very quiet."
"Telling the truth for once. If two doormats went missing it would constitute a crime wave. But I would just suggest one thing."
"What’s that?"
"Keep you eye open for me-laddo there who just left. You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but he’s still living, by all accounts."
"And?"
"He’s a light-finger beggar who wouldn’t know a decent day’s work if it bit him."
"Tell me one thing, constable," said Nasreen,
" – detective constable – "
"Do you keep files on all the residents of Magnolia Close?"
"Only on the interesting ones," he winked. "Anything you want, call in on my wife, Lucille. We’re number 29."
"Doesn’t she work?"
"Care-worker – looks after children at home. So she’s always in, and she can always tell you where you can find a policeman. E’ening all." With that, he was gone.
End of Episode 2
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