6

Abi was motionless as Robert approached. He wore the same awkward smirk from the night before—the same one she had seen through the glare of the streetlight after he had chased her through the park.

He was only a few feet away, but every step brought an avalanche of panicked thoughts.

Has he tracked me down?

How did he get my address?

What does he want from me?

Is he here to kill me?

Those thoughts disappeared almost as quickly as they came, replaced by self-doubt and pity:

Did I inadvertently tell him my address?

Is this my fault—did I lead him on?

Does he think he can move in with me? Is this how dating works now? One date, one handshake, and then, bam, roommates? I mean, it’s been a long time—

“Hey Abi! What are you doing here?”

Robert’s question dragged her away from her chaotic thoughts. She uttered a few strangled words in reply, almost without realizing it, like her mouth had gone AWOL. He gave her a puzzled look and Abi just doubled down on her smile, hoping that would do the trick and stop him from making a dinner suit out of her skin.

“So … do you live here?” Robert asked.

“Here? No, no …” She shook her head for effect. “Why—why would you think that?”

He looked down at the large parcel in her hands and then at the door to her house.

She followed his gaze. “Oh, you mean here? Yeah, of course.” She laughed at the absurdity of her previous statement, stopped when her throat made a strange choking sound, and then tried her best to hide it. Before she could stop herself, she began humming a random tune and then staring down the driveway, as if something had caught her eye.

Robert followed her gaze, looking from the driveway to the box and then back at Abi. He looked like he was on the verge of an embarrassment meltdown, but not if Abi beat him to it.

“So, it looks like we’re neighbors now,” he said after prolonged pause.

“Neighbors?” Abi said, the awkwardness replaced by shock. She took a step back, cradling the parcel under one arm and reaching for the door with the other. If he moved forward, she was prepared to swing and run.

Robert nodded and pointed to the house next door. “I just moved in this morning.”

“This morning?”

“Yes. I had no idea you lived here. Isn’t that uncanny?”

“Yes,” Abi said slowly. “Uncanny.”

“I only signed the agreement last week, but I should have all my stuff in soon, and until then,” he shrugged, “I guess I’ll have to rough it.” He laughed. Abi didn’t reciprocate. “I know where to come if I need a cup of sugar though, eh?”

“I don’t eat sugar,” Abi said, too quickly for her liking. It was true, but as soon as she spoke, she wished she could take it back. A few moments of awkward silence passed and then she tried to do just that. “I mean, I take my coffee with a sweetener instead. And lots of milk. But you don’t need to know that. Funnily enough, my grandmother is the complete opposite. Three sugars. Black. Crazy, right?” Abi laughed and made a snorting sound, feeling the need to continue in the hope he didn’t notice. “She says she likes a little sweetness to balance life’s negativity and a little bitterness to remind her she’s not Mother Teresa. And yet, somehow, she made it past seventy without keeling over!”

Robert looked shocked, concerned, and scared all at once. He waited for silence to descend, and when he was confident that she had nothing to say, he asked, “Your grandmother lives with you?”

Abi nodded. “She’s old, needs support, you know how it is.”

Robert offered a confused smile suggesting that he didn’t know how it was. “Anyway,” he said eventually, the awkwardness getting too much for him as Abi inadvertently found the escape she had desperately hoped for. “I’ll leave you to it. But it was nice meeting you. Again, I mean. It was nice seeing you again.”

Abi mumbled a reply that even she didn’t understand and then ducked back inside.

“Oh, and I don’t know if you’ve seen,” he called just as she was shutting the door, “but I sent you a few messages. If you have the time, just … you know.”

“Okay,” Abi said abruptly.

She shut the door and heard his muffled salutations on the other side

as she watched him through the peephole return to his house.

“Neighbors,” Abi said softly. “Neighbors.”

She placed the parcel down on the floor just as her grandmother emerged from her bedroom, dressed to the nines, plastered in makeup and smelling like a Turkish brothel.

“Well, dear, it’s time. Somewhere out there there’s a gorgeous, super-fit copper waiting for me.” Martha hiked up her skirt, threw her handbag over her shoulder, and winked. “And I’ve been a very naughty girl.”

Abi shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

—

Abi spent the rest of the morning napping, her mood and her energy taking a nosedive after the promising morning had turned sour. Several hours later, she woke to find her grandmother standing over her as she lay on the couch, one hand on her hip, a grimace on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you want to know what’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong.”

“Okay.”

“Men are bastards. That’s what’s wrong.”

Abi rose from the couch and stretched, hiding a smile in the crook of her arm. “Your date went well, then?”

Martha shook her head, indignation still plastered over her face. “He said I was too old. Too old! He also hinted that I was too weird.”

“Hinted?”

Martha nodded. “Said I was ‘bonkers,’ as ‘mad as a box of frogs,’ and I quote, ‘too fucking much for me.’”

“That’s more than a hint.”

“He also said that I lied on my profile. A liar—me! Can you believe that?”

“And did you?”

“Maybe, but that’s beside the point.”

“Wait a minute, what profile?”

“The cheek of the man!” Martha continued, ignoring her granddaughter.

“Are you on a dating site?”

Martha continued, “I said to him, ‘Well, it takes one to know one; your profile said you were fit and handsome.’”

“You didn’t?”

“I did.”

Abi groaned inwardly.

“Just wait ’til Twitter hears about this,” Martha nodded assertively. If Abi knew her grandmother, and she did, she would spend the rest of the day ranting on social media and then doing everything in her power to make her date wish he’d never met her.

“Maybe you should stay clear of the internet for now,” Abi said, keen to avoid the drama. “We may have bigger issues to address.”

“Oh?” Martha looked very interested all of a sudden, her anger turning to curiosity. She tapped Abi on the leg, ushering her out of the way before sitting down on the sofa next to her. “What’s the problem, dear, clients giving you shit?”

“No, it’s Robert.”

“The sweaty psycho from last night?”

“The same.”

“What does he want? Has he been sending you dodgy messages? Dick pics? I’ve had a few of them myself, you know. You’d be surprised how eager men are to wave their junk around, and most of them really don’t have anything to brag about.”

“Nothing like that,” Abi said. “I mean, yes, he sent me quite a few messages last night, and they were a little desperate, but nothing obscene.”

“Shame. So, what’s the issue?”

“He moved in next door. I saw him when I was collecting a parcel and had a … let’s say, awkward conversation with him. Big coincidence, right?”

“Creepy coincidence. How long you been talking to him?”

“A few weeks.”

“Did he seem … overly keen?”

Abi shook her head. “Not really, at least not until last night.”

“Then he’s probably fine, dear.”

Abi always felt better when talking to her grandmother. She didn’t always say the right things, or the most sensible things, but there was an air of confidence that always won her over. Abi also knew that whatever happened, her gran would be there to back her up and fight her battles.

“Maybe I should give him a chance,” Abi pondered. “I mean, how bad can he be? Assuming he isn’t a serial killer.”

“He chased you through the park, mail-bombed you, and then moved in next-door, all in the space of a few hours. I’d say that was a pretty big assumption to make, dear.”

“You said he was fine!” Abi protested.

“I said probably, dear. He could still be a raving lunatic.”

Abi sighed. “If it’s not the weirdos like Robert, it’s the assholes like Matthew Graves. I don’t have much luck, do I?”

Martha audibly gagged at the sound of that name, making her intense displeasure known. “I remember that turd,” she said, looking off to her right, no doubt daydreaming about disemboweling him. “He was a real piece of work.”

“Tell me about it.”

“A shit stain on the Y-fronts of humanity,” Martha said.

“I suppose …”

“A black, rotten smudge that serves only to darken everything that is pure.”

“That’s surprisingly poetic for—”

“A cunt of the highest proportions.”

“And there we are.”

“You really shit the bed with that one, dear.”

“Yep.”

“I don’t know what you were thinking,” Martha continued. “Too young, too stupid, too horny. That’s the problem with teenage girls, no self-respect. They’ll fuck anything in tight pants.”

“So, what do I do with Robert?” Abi asked, keen to change the subject.

“You should ghost him, dear.”

“What?”

“It’s when you ignore someone and block them out of your life completely.”

“I know what it is, Grandma, but how do you?”

Martha looked pretty smug with herself. “I’m still in touch. Just because I’m old doesn’t mean—”

“You’ve been on TikTok again, haven’t you?” Abi sighed and shook her head. “Anyway, I can’t do that. He lives next door. If I ignore his calls, he’ll show up at the door.”

“Then bring someone else on the scene,” Martha said. “Another man. Make it clear that you’re not interested by inviting someone else around and letting him see.”

“So, your answer to my problem is to get a boyfriend? The very same thing that I’ve been trying to do all my adult life and the very same thing that got me into this mess?” Abi laughed, a little more harshly than intended.

“Well!” Martha tried to stand quickly and dramatically but failed on both accounts. “If that’s how you treat someone who tries to help,” she wobbled and flinched as soon as she was upright, “then fuck you, dear.”

“I’m sorry, Gran,” Abi said, her frustration disappearing just as quickly as it had appeared.

“I know you are, dear,” Martha said with a strained smile, looking unsteady on her feet. “Now, go get my pills, I think I just popped a hernia.”