Monday morning and Mia had just settled down at her desk when her doorbell sounded. With a groan of impatience she pushed back her chair and went to answer it.
Stan stood there, greasy hair, straggling beard and a body shape that screamed type 2 diabetes; large belly hanging over his trousers, the buttons of his shirt under serious strain.
‘You know about this modern technology.’
She tried to hide her smile. Her neighbour clearly wasn’t a fan of the long preamble. Or even the short pleasantry, apparently. ‘Good morning, Stan.’
He humphed. ‘Yes, yes, but this is an emergency. My TV doesn’t work.’
‘Your TV?’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘I work with computers, Stan. Not televisions.’
‘You use a screen, don’t you?’
‘Well, yes, just like I use a car. It doesn’t mean I know what happens under the bonnet.’
Ignoring her, he walked to his front door – three strides away – pushed it open and waved for her to go inside.
Bloody great. Checking she had the key to her flat, she followed him in. The two places were side by side, mirror images of each other in terms of layout, but entering Stan’s was like going into an eighties time warp. Everything was beige, except for the plants which seemed to have taken over the flat, like Triffids. Two giant speakers were set at either end of the living room, and next to one of them was a literal tower of CDs. She imagined somewhere there were stacks of VHS videos lurking on orange coloured pine shelves.
Snatching up the remote control, he pointed it at the TV. ‘See here, flaming thing is frozen. I can’t turn it off, can’t change channel. I’m stuck with that bloody Piers Morgan.’ He glowered at her. ‘I can’t stand the guy.’
‘Okay, I see your issue. He is a bit Marmite.’ When Stan looked at her blankly, she added, ‘You either love him or hate him?’
‘At least with Marmite you can put a ruddy lid on it.’
‘Good point.’ She held out her hand for the remote. ‘Can I take a look?’
‘I’m a pensioner, not a geriatric,’ he grumbled when she opened the battery case. ‘I know how to change the batteries.’
There was only one other thing this computer nerd could think of. Mia walked to the wall behind the TV and turned it off at the plug. ‘At least that’s got rid of Piers for you.’
Stan didn’t look too impressed. ‘I could’ve done that. Bet he’s still there when you turn it back on.’
‘Ah, then you’d be betting against the magic power of the reboot.’
The screen flickered to life, and Mia pressed the remote control. As she changed it over to BBC1, cutting Piers off mid rant, a smile spread across Stan’s face. ‘You’re a bloody genius.’
She could point out she’d only turned it off and on again. Or she could take the praise. Mia figured the latter was the most neighbourly, so she smiled. ‘You know where to find me if Piers gives you any other problems.’
‘This calls for a brew.’ He waved his hand towards the beige sofa, complete with stains Mia really didn’t want to think about. Or sit on. ‘Sit yourself down lass, I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘That’s kind, but I am meant to be working.’ And in fifteen minutes, I may want to stare out of my window into the flat opposite.
His smile slipped. ‘Oh, right, not to worry. Another time.’
Don’t look at his sad eyes. Damn it. ‘But I’ve got time for a quick drink.’
His face lit up again, and if she looked past the awful beard and the terrible hair she could see he actually had a good, kind face. One that didn’t deserve to be as lonely as he seemed to be.
While he pottered around in the kitchen, Mia looked out of the window, wondering how different his view was than hers. And maybe also wondering how much he could see into Luke’s flat. Not a lot, it appeared, as the blinds in the opposite room were down. Luke’s bedroom? Swallowing, she shifted her gaze along, and her breath caught when she noticed a new sheet of paper taped to Luke’s second window. Because of the angle, she couldn’t read what it said, but it hadn’t been there last time she’d looked.
‘Checking out the guy opposite, I see.’
Mia gave a guilty start and knew she was blushing. Accepting the mug he offered, she gave a shrug she knew didn’t convince either of them. ‘Just looking at your view.’
‘The lass in the flat before you used to invite her mates round at 10 a.m.’
She nearly choked on the tea. ‘Seriously?’ Then realised she was giving herself away. ‘Umm, what for, exactly?’
Stan chuckled. ‘If you weren’t blushing so hard, I might believe you’ve never watched him take his shirt off, or whatever you girls seem to enjoy.’
Clearing her throat, she took another sip. Strong and stewed, exactly how she didn’t like it. ‘I’m guessing from this angle you can’t see what the fascination is.’
Stan’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Don’t tell me he’s one of those Chipmunks.’
Mia burst out laughing. ‘Sorry?’
‘You know, men who prance about in their underwear.’
‘Ah, Chippendales.’ She had to work hard to get her laughter under control. ‘Sadly no, he only works out with his weights. So I hear,’ she added, totally unbelievably. Then, because she couldn’t stop staring at the window she knew contained another sign for her, she asked, ‘Do you know him?’
‘Sure.’ Stan slurped noisily at his tea.
The guy who’d taken an hour to tell her where the nearest supermarket was, chose now to use one-word replies? ‘That’s all you’re going to give me?’
He slid her a sly smile. ‘What more do you want?’
‘What do you think of him?’
Another chuckle. ‘Doesn’t seem to matter what I think. You’re clearly smitten.’
‘I’m not.’ Then why are you asking about him? ‘I’m not smitten,’ she clarified, ‘just interested. Not in him,’ she added quickly, then realised she was kidding nobody. ‘Okay, maybe a bit in him. He seems to have a large female following.’
‘Aye, there’s no shortage of young women hanging around the bar, that’s for certain.’
‘And?’
Stan shrugged. ‘You’re better off asking some of them. I can tell you he’s worked in the bar and lived opposite for as long as I’ve been here. Friendly bloke. Never had any trouble from him, as far as I know.’ He paused. ‘Rumour has it he’s been through all the single women in this block, mind.’
Mia sighed. ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought.’
Silence descended and Mia realised the feeling sitting heavy in her gut was disappointment. She’d hoped Stan would tell her she’d got it wrong, that the hot bar owner with the twinkly eyes and the ready smile, wasn’t a player.
Stan looked down at his watch. ‘It’s ten o’clock.’
She smiled. ‘So? Are you kicking me out?’
He grinned, showing he had nearly all his teeth. ‘I can take off my shirt instead, if you like.’ As her eyes rounded in horror, he cackled. ‘Or we could sit down and finish our brew.’