The Man Next Door. Chapter 21.

Mother: Is the man next door at home or isn't he?

Am I hearing him working on his house, or is it something else?

Sometimes I hear him stapling, up under his roof, but the noise I'm hearing now sounds like such a pathetic attempt at stapling that it must be one of the ghosts next door trying to learn how to use a staple gun.



NEXT MORNING.

Mother: There is no evidence that the man next door is at home, yet his back door is open.


Alpha: Maybe the ghosts next door have learned how to unlock and open his door.


Mother: They could've been fascinated by the challenge of unlocking his back door, which has a padlocked chain that goes through a hole in the back door, around bars of the security door, then back through another hole in the back door.


Alpha: Do ghosts unlock or open doors? Or do they just pass through doors and walls?


Mother: Do they ever pass through walls from one house to another?



ANOTHER DAY

There's a scraping noise that I regularly hear through the wall, in the man next door's roof space. Is it made by the man next door, or by birds, maybe by the pair of Indian Mynahs who hang around, and who could easily get in through one of the open upstairs windows, and poke around in his house?

Last time I heard that noise the man next door must have been at home, because next morning, early, I heard a power saw in use in his back yard, so close to his back door that I couldn't see anything from my window.


Daughter: I don't like the way you spy on the man next door.


Mother: I'm not spying. I'm just noticing what goes on, because the man next door's life is interesting enough to deserve to be noticed.


Alpha: Finishing the work on his house looks like a five year project!


Mother: He must have been working on it that long already.



NEXT MORNING.

Mother: This morning, just after daybreak, I was woken by a racket outside, with lots of scratching and galloping noises, as a cat hurled itself around while chasing birds on our roof.

I didn't get to the window in time to see what cat was involved, but I did see the pair of Indian Mynahs flap to the safety of the chimney top.

I'm hoping that the cat was not the black cat I saw recently on our deck.

I really liked the look of that cat. There was something very intelligent and dignified about it.

Maybe even something mysterious.


Daughter: I know that black cat. It often comes around. It even comes inside the house if the back door is open.

It comes into the kitchen, and if no one is there it ventures into the sitting room, confidently looking in on whoever is sitting there, checking things out and seeing what we are up to.

It probably checks up on lots of other people too.

I see it all over the place, looking at home wherever it goes.


ONE MORNING, A WEEK OR SO LATER.

Mother: Did you hear the loud rumbling noises in next door, and what sounded like a cascade of timber sliding down the stairs.


Daughter: What I did hear was some roofing iron being moved around somewhere in the house.



A FEW DAYS LATER.

Mother: Now there is absolutely no doubt that the man next door is at home.

First I heard him upstairs last night, while it was raining, swearing quietly, and talking to his girlfriend, as he pulled sisalation back up, over the upstairs back window.

Then, today, you can hear loud creaking as he walks around on his high roof.

Sometimes there's the loud noise of a power tool as he screws roofing iron in place, and you can hear the sound of a metal ladder being moved around, and repositioned, in the upstairs back room.

Next thing there is loud hammering and banging.



LATER.

Mother: I was waiting to cross at the lights when a voice behind me said..."That's my neighbour."

I turned, and repeated ...."That's my neighbour!", after I recognised that one of the two men standing outside the door of the pub was the man next door.

"I thought you were up on your roof" ... I said.

The man next door replied with ... "I was, but I just came here to get away from the dust."

"I'll be back up there soon."

I noticed that the man next door was covered all over in grey dust. Even his face was now very grey, rather than red.

Just his pale blue eyes stood out, like headlights, with an other-worldly look about them.

Surprisingly, by the time I got back from my walk, the man next door was back up on his roof.


Daughter: He must be on a roll.


Mother: Just now, when I was in the bathroom, the man next door was walking around near the edge of his roof, almost straight above me. I tried not to focus on him, so he wouldn't fall.


ANOTHER DAY.

Daughter: This morning I woke from the strangest dream.

We were all packed up with food and going somewhere for Xmas.

It was a long, difficult journey on steep, windy roads, through rainforest, and when we arrived and unpacked our things I found that I had forgotten two important items .... a bottle of apple cider vinegar and a bottle of Waterfords Apple and Ginger drink.

Since it had been my responsibility to bring these things I made a decision, and announced ... "I'll have to go back."

After discussion it was decided that the only way was by bus.

Soon after I got on the bus someone warned me, saying "this bus is usually held up by bandits."

"If you have any money they will find it, and take it, and if you resist they will kill you."

I looked in my handbag and found wads and wads of money, which I wanted to hide,

I stuffed them inside the desert boots I was wearing till I had big, wide feet.

Then I looked again in my handbag, and found a purse containing even more wads of money.


Mother: What happened next?


Daughter: That's all I can remember.

I must have been woken up, before anything really bad happened.

The Man Next Door. Chapter 20.

Daughter: I just saw a dead man lying in the street!


Mother: Where?


Daughter: Not far from the station, just past the little shop.


Mother: What did he look like?


Daughter: Middle-aged, with grey hair.


Mother: Maybe he's the man who begun begging there a few days ago. Yesterday he was half lying on the footpath and there was something angry and unpleasant about him.

I guessed he was drunk, but maybe he looked angry because he just wanted to be drunk.

Are you sure he was really dead.?


Daughter: Well, I had a good look at him, and he didn't seem to be alive.


Mother: Not much can be done for him now, if he really is dead.



LATER.

Mother: Since I didn't have time to cook anything for lunch today it was lucky that I managed to buy the last bbq chicken at the shop. On my way there I saw the extremely fat man coming back with his usual purchase of two bbq chickens, and I hoped he hadn't bought the last two.


Daughter: You know, I've noticed that the extremely fat man has a pointy nose and a pointy chin, so that his face looks like the face you sometimes see drawn on the moon.



NEXT DAY.

Mother: I saw the man you thought was dead sitting begging again, in the same place.



A WEEK OR SO LATER.

Daughter: The man I thought was dead has disappeared.


Mother: Yes, I haven't seen him either. I wonder what became of him.

He reminded me of a man I began to see in Redfern Street some time ago.

That man was respectably dressed, but he seemed to be homeless. He would stretch out on the busy footpath, his few belongings nearby in a shopping trolley.

He always seemed to be very angry, and one day, as he crossed the road, he shouted out ..."I wish I hadn't been born!"



ANOTHER DAY.

Daughter: Today I saw the extremely fat man in shorts.


Mother: What on earth did he look like!


Daughter: Better than I expected. His shorts were very long and tapered, and below them you could see very slim ankles, and small, narrow, pointy feet.


Mother: I wonder what he looked like before he got fat, when he worked as a doorman at that posh hotel in the city.

I imagine he got fat after his mother died. Maybe from eating too many bbq chickens.


Daughter: I wonder how he spends his time these days, and what it's like inside his house.


Mother: Maybe his house hasn't changed much since it was built.

He's been living there since he was born, so he knows all about this area,.... what it used to be like and how it has changed. He remembers all the factories that used to be around here, and he told me which ones have been turned into apartment buildings.

He's got so much knowledge to pass on that it's hard to get away from him, once he gets you to stop and talk.

I've only done that once, but I now and again see him waiting outside, leaning on his fence, watching people go by and looking for someone to talk to.

He knows all the details about recent, and not so recent, house sales around here.....how much the houses were sold for,....this time and previous times, ....lots of details about the new owners and the old owners, and even the new owners' plans for the houses.

I wish I'd thought to ask him about our house, and the man next door's house. He would know a lot about the previous owners and about previous tenants.

He could have told me about the cat lady who used to rent our house. Maybe one of her cats got stuck in the space above the stove. It's interesting the way cat bones and assorted debris still sometimes fall down onto  the stove through a crack above it.


Daughter: I hope you will stop cooking on that side of the stove, even though that's where the large hot plate is.


Mother: Before we stop talking about the extremely fat man,.... I heard him talking to someone out the front of our house one day, on a surprising topic.

He knew all about recent court cases involving women who have embezzled money belonging to their employers, then gambled it away on poker machines. He must be very fascinated by that sort of thing.



ANOTHER DAY:

Mother: I've been hearing noises through my wall, and the cru...ack,...cru...ack sound of a staple gun.

The man next door must be at home, and he must be stapling back the fallen strips of sisalation that I've recently seen hanging down from under his roof.

I thought he finished that job a year or so ago, after he removed the ceiling.

At that time, when the light was on upstairs, it was possible to see the blue of sisalation covering the under surface of the roof.


Daughter: He seems to have problems in securing sisalation.


Mother: Yes. Last time he was at home he again covered the glassless window above the kitchen door with sisalation, but now it has slipped right down again so that once more it just covers the wall below the window, and the top of the kitchen door.


Daughter: The man next door doesn't make his presence felt much when he returns home these days.


Mother: He usually has a girlfriend with him, and it would be interesting to see whether it's his old girlfriend, or a new one.

I did see him a few days ago, out the front, at his vehicle.

I was struck by how much redder his face seemed, and how swollen it looked.

Maybe the cause is something other than sunburn.

The Man Next Door. Chapter 19.

Noises can be heard on the stairs, and voices, including an unknown woman's voice.

Mother looks down over the bannisters and sees a young woman, grasping a long dagger shaped knife.

Quickly Mother pulls her head back, so she is out of sight.

Then a man's voice is heard, and, relieved, Mother recognises the voice of Pierre, the new German university student housemate.


LATER.

Mother: Did you see what was going on upstairs a while ago?


Daughter: No. I've been busy here in the kitchen.


Mother: I discovered that Pierre and another student were working on a university assignment, photographing key scenes in a little drama.

The first thing I saw was a jealous femme fatale, poised on the stairs, holding a long dagger shaped knife in her hand.

Pierre was there photographing her.

Next thing the girl was leaning over the balcony, supposedly watching Pierre sneak out of the house to go and meet another woman.

Later the girl watched, and photographed, as Pierre met up with the other woman in a pub.

Finally photographs were taken of Pierre lying dying in the street after the jealous femme fatale stabbed him in the chest.


ANOTHER DAY.
(After Pierre returned to the house, with his bike.)

Daughter: Did you have a good day?


Pierre: Yes, ....that was until I saw the zombie-like woman you told me about, who lives up the street.

I got such a fright at the sight of her, so skinny in her summer dress, and looking so weird, with her very long curled fingernails and neglected hair, that I nearly fell off my bike.



ANOTHER DAY.

Daughter: Pierre is so pleasant and intelligent, and he fits in so well here, it will be a pity if he has to leave eventually.

If that happens I think we should try to get another international student to take his place.


ANOTHER DAY.

Daughter: You know, it's very strange the way there are sometimes vans or cars parked out the front of our house for hours on end, with people sitting inside.

When Alpha or I look out the window at them, or when we go out the front door, they drive off.


Mother: That's strange. Maybe they're spying on you.

I sometimes saw a strange van with tinted windows parked for odd periods of time out the front of the flats where I used to live.

There was something sinister about the look of it, and it was so tall that I imagined people standing up inside at the back, maybe using listening devices.

I wondered who they could've been listening to. Maybe someone in the flats.


Alpha: I found out that someone died at those flats recently.


Mother: Maybe it was someone I knew.

Do you know which flat they died in?


Alpha: Maybe the one that's now advertised for rent. 


Daughter: Oh that reminds me. A few weeks ago I saw a lady get out of a car and walk past our house carrying a forensic kit and wearing a navy blue jumpsuit with "Police Forensic" written on the back.

I wondered if someone around here had been murdered.

Then today, as I walked up Cleveland Street I saw a trail of blood on the footpath, beside the long stretch of marble and glass wall near the Seymour Centre. The trail ended in a big pool of blood.

Forensic powder had been dusted along the wall, and police tape stopped people going up a flight of steps into the building.



LATER.
Mother: Have you ever seen the man next door?


Pierre: Yes, I've met him.

He came over to talk to me when I was out the front one day. He seemed very friendly.

I forget what he said his name is.

The Man Next Door. Chapter 18.

Daughter: You must have seen the dark skinned, homeless- looking man, with long hair dangling in front of his face, who sits huddled on the footpath, talking to himself.

Yesterday he was sitting out the front of our house, talking to Alpha's bike.

And there was someone else I saw yesterday. Remember Joe,...who sold Alpha a stolen bike.


Mother: Yes, but I only got a brief glimpse of him, when I looked down the stairs one evening.

First I noticed  that the front door was open, and outside I could see Joe pacing back and forth.

He was apparently trying to sell the bike to Alpha. It was a surprise to find out later that the bike had been stolen.


Daughter: Yes, I was shocked when I opened the front door a day or so later and saw three policemen standing outside.

They were looking at Alpha's bike, and told me that one like that had been reported stolen.

The worst thing was the way passers- by and neighbours were out in the street watching, fascinated.


Mother: I'm so glad I wasn't here.


Daughter: I could see the expressions on the faces of the people out watching.

The young Chinese couple across the road looked curious, as they peeped around their garden fence.

Some neighbours looked stunned. Others had excited looks on their faces, and some even looked very satisfied.

Passers by took notice, and no doubt when they pass our house again they wonder what happened.

Even the extremely fat moon-faced man a few doors up was outside, leaning on his fence and facing up the street, watching proceedings.


Mother: Whenever he can get someone to listen to him he enjoys talking about anything interesting that's happened lately.

It would be interesting to hear his version of the incident.



Daughter: The worst thing was when a policeman told Alpha....

"You are under arrest!"


Mother: It's just as well Alpha knew Joe's name, and where he lived, so he could take the police around there.


Daughter: Yes. Otherwise Alpha would have been charged with possession.

It was bad enough the way they took him away in the police car, first to Joe's place, to identify Joe, then to the Police Station to make a statement.



Mother: The house next door looks particularly forlorn these days, with the man next door away most of the time.

While he must make slight progress on the house with the work he does during his brief visits, in other ways the house must be continuing to deteriorate. 

It worries me when it rains heavily, the way water from the high roof rushes down onto the lower roof, on the back section of the house, then straight over the guttering, cascading on down the wall in the corner, where green moss has started to grow. On its way down, the rainwater must splash inside through the two glassless windows adjacent to the corner, now that the sisalation covering them has fallen down.

Daughter: These days I haven't seen much through the kitchen window, apart from a jumble of rubber gloves and a can of baked beans.

Mother: And on the front verandah, where I've noticed that the wall is probably still coated in its original paint, which has now faded to a mottled non-descript green, with areas of the original grey cement render showing underneath, the only change I've noticed recently, amongst all the junk, is the absence of the old Triumph motorbike that seemed to have been standing there, unused, for years.

The Man Next Door. Chapter 17.

Daughter: Sometimes when I'm out walking I hear very loud heavy metal music approaching, and I expect a souped-up car, driven by some young man, to appear.

But sometimes it's a man sitting in a gopher who appears, and it's hard to believe that he's responsible for the blast of loud music I'm hearing. As he gets closer it's obvious that the music's coming from the large 80's type speaker, sitting in the front basket of his gopher.


Mother: He obviously wants to make his presence felt. What does he look like?


Daughter: He looks lively enough, and younger than I expected, with beady eyes and longish hair. When you're close enough to see the expression on his face he looks preoccupied, as if in a world of his own, with no interest in how people are reacting to him, as he bops along, jerking his neck forward to the music, as though he's maybe trying to make his gopher go faster.  

And he doesn't just enjoy playing loud music out in the street. I've recognised him as the man using a walking frame who I once saw in Cleveland Street, repeatedly crossing the road back and forth, against the traffic, without looking, enjoying making the traffic stop for him.


Mother: I wonder if he still does that?

What other interesting people have you seen lately?


Daughter: It's not only interesting people that I see out in the street, and on some occasions its not loud music that preludes an appearance, its the trail of little pellets I'm following, and around the corner what I come across is a white goat, happily walking along with its owner.


Mother: Yes, that goat seems quite at home out in the street. And I've noticed how it waits at intersections until its owner tells it to cross.


Daughter: Have you seen it lately?

It's grown so big, and now it has a very long, very impressive beard.


Mother: What surprised me one day was the sight of a ferret out walking in the street, on a lead.

The owner needed a lot of patience because the ferret insisted on scuttling along close enough to the base of each fence to sniff every inch. When the lady had to dodge around a garbage bin or other obstacle on the footpath, pulling the ferret with her, the ferret would then insist on running back to sniff the section of fence it had missed.

Talking about pets, remember when the man next door had a dog.

The first I knew about it was when you told me about hearing him shouting out at the dog one night, after he discovered that it had been shitting in his house.


Daughter: Yes, he was shouting out ...."Shit everywhere!"......"Why don't you go outside?"......"Why do you stay inside?"........."Who do you think you are......a prince?".

"You can stay outside now!"......."And why don't you mix with local dogs?"

"Who do you think you are?"


Mother: Did I tell you about the conversation about the dog I had with the man next door one night, on my way home from Salsa?


Daughter: No.


Mother: Actually, I saw him sitting outside the pub as I passed it on my way to Salsa, and I didn't recognise him until he said "Hello," and got up. I got the impression he wanted to talk, but I was in a hurry, and didn't stop.

It was on my return from Salsa that we had the conversation.

Just as I walked past his house he came outside, calling out to his dog, which was out the front.

"So you've got a dog now", I remarked.

"It looks very nice,".... (but I noticed that it also looked very confused.)

Then the conversation went like this:


The Man Next Door: Yes, it's a nice dog, but it's behaving strangely. It won't drink any water.

It's not my dog. I'm just looking after it for a friend.

You may know her, or you may have seen her around....... A woman with lots of tattoos, and a purple mohawk hairdo.

I first met her soon after she bought a house in this street, and I spent four days in bed with her before I realised that I'd made a mistake about her.

She's still a friend, and I'm looking after her dog while she and her partner travel to Las Vegas to get married.

I see a lot of them at the pub.

How come you're not a pub girl?


Mother: I don't enjoy pubs.


The Man Next Door: I haven't seen your boyfriend arriving lately.


Mother: No. He hurt his back at work, and now he's changed jobs, and moved to the Far South Coast.

It's too difficult to keep on seeing him.



A TRUCK DRIVES BY.

The Man Next Door: The driver of that truck is a wonderful singer. Have you heard him.


Mother: No.


The Man Next Door: He often sings at the pub. Do you like music? 


(Mother was a bit slow in replying, as she thought about what kinds of music she liked, in case he asked her.) 
Mother: "I like many kinds of music."


The Man Next Door: It's just as well you like music. I was afraid you were going to say that you don't like music, and if you'd said that I would've grabbed my dog, and gone inside, to get away from you!


Mother: I'd better go now anyway.


(As Mother moved away she was very surprised when the man next door rushed over and gave her a hug, and a kiss on the cheek, before she reached home.)

The Man Next Door. Chapter 16.

Mother: Thank goodness!

Both houses still intact! No more smoke and heat!

No fire engines!


Daughter: I wonder what happened.


Mother: It must have been a chimney fire, which could in fact have burnt down the man next door's house, but didn't.


Daughter: I hope that's the end of fires in next door.



IN THE HOUSE.

Daughter's studio room is filling up with lovely paintings based on memories and dreams, set in the bushland of her childhood.

She's painting for an exhibition to be held in a nearby gallery.



ONE EVENING.

Mother walks to an exhibition opening at a Redfern gallery she hasn't seen before.

Daughter had gone ahead, so Mother had to find her, after arriving at the large, impressive gallery, joining all the pretentious, smartly-dressed people milling around, enjoying the atmosphere and the wine. No doubt they were enjoying the works of art as well.

Daughter appeared, and led Mother to the room where strange wooden sculptures were on display.

In settings such as a strange wooden car, or a little wooden boat, there were fantastic wooden personages, which you would like to have sitting around in your house for company, or just to be admired.


When Daughter introduced Mother to her sculptor friend, Mother planned to tell him how much she admired and enjoyed the sculptures, but her attention was so fixed on the sculptor's face, that she was struck dumb.


Daughter (soon after, in explanation): He has some problem with his eyes, I think, that causes those big fluid filled bags under his eyes....and he's probably already rather drunk.


Mother: He looks like a nice person.


Daughter: See the man over there. That's the owner of the gallery where I'm to have my exhibition. I'll introduce you to him.


Again Mother couldn't believe her eyes, as she was introduced to a man who was the spitting image of the man next door! .... The same demeanour, the same height, the same figure, the same head, the same face, the same expression, the same seductive blue eyes!


Daughter (later): Yes, he does look just like the man next door. And he knows him, and likes him. They drink together at the pub.



ANOTHER DAY.
Daughter: The man next door is away a lot of the time these days.


Mother: Yes. But I spoke to him yesterday.

He was outside his front door reading his mail when I walked past.

I said "Hello", and he reluctantly looked up. He didn't seem very friendly, and I got the feeling that some of his mail was not good news.

He told me that he's away a lot these days, working up the north coast, and that his house here is on hold because of a serious lack of money.

He added ..."Work has saved a desperate situation, and enabled me to pay my mortgage."

Then he started to say something about "a sunny day", and I noticed that his face looked rather pink, and somewhat swollen.

I wondered if he's been getting a bit too much sunshine up north.

(To be continued.)

The Man Next Door. Chapter 15.

(Knocking, and banging and voices could be heard next door.)


Daughter: The man next door must be happy to have an audience in there, while he knocks down more of his house.

(Then there was laughter next door.)


Older Daughter (who was visiting.): You should call out to the man next door ...."Don't laugh, or your house will fall down!"

"And that will be no laughing matter!"



A WEEK OR SO LATER.
Alpha: I was out on the front verandah, trying to fix the leaking tap near our water meter, when the man who lives on the other side of the man next door, came knocking at his door.

There was no response.

"Have you seen Lertch?", he asked me, and I didn't know where he was.

He added "There's something on fire in his house,.....I have to find him."

"Try the pub", I suggested.

I waited out the front to see what happened, and soon the man next door came hurrying home from the pub, carrying a bucket of water, because no doubt the water is still turned off in his house.

When he opened his front door, smoke billowed out, but he went inside, and he must have managed to put the fire out.

Soon afterwards I had an opportunity to ask the man next door what had happened, and he invited me into his house to see the damage. There were charred floorboards in front of his fireplace, where burning firewood had fallen out onto the floor.


Mother: Imagine if the fire hadn't been noticed in time, and his house had burnt down!



ONE MORNING.
Mother: As I walked past the man next door's house yesterday evening, I glanced in through his open front door and saw young men, and a young woman, all dressed in black, arranged around in the house.

A party was beginning.

Later the party got noisier, and I heard the man next door swearing drunkenly at someone.

Then he said "You've had 40 chances, and wasted them all." ....."No, you can't touch my water!"



ONE DAY, OUT IN THE STREET.
Daughter: See that skinny woman in a summer dress, walking towards us. She dresses like that in all seasons and weather.

(The woman walked towards them in a spritely-enough way, yet a little bit unsteadily, as if she was so light on the ground that a puff of wind could blow her away.

As she passed them Mother noticed the vacant expression on the woman's face, and the big patches of ingrained dirt on her forehead.)


Daughter: Did you notice her fingernalis?..... The way they're curled like claws. They must be nearly two inches long.

And did you notice her hair? It's so matted that it looks like a piece of felt.


Mother: Is she homeless?


Daughter: Although she looks like a homeless woman, I've been told that she owns at least three houses around here.

I can tell you a very surprising story about her.

A few days ago a man up the street was showing me inside his house, when he suddenly called me to the window to look at something, .....something he had only seen once before.

This same skinny, homeless-looking woman, (who lives next door to him) was sitting completely naked in her back yard, leaning back against a wall, arms spread out, and a blissful expression on her face, as she enjoyed the warm sunshine.

It was a freakish sight, and I was struck by her skinny chest, and her little flat breasts, hanging down.

She was very close to us, but she looked quite oblivious.


Mother: I'm so glad she doesn't live next door to us.



EARLY ONE UNEXPECTEDLY COLD MORNING.
Daughter anxiously sang out to Alpha, because she was alarmed by the smell of something burning, and by plumes of smoke coming into her room, apparently from inside the wall, and emerging through cracks where the window met the wall.

She could feel that the dividing wall between her room and the man next door's house was hot, as if the house next door was on fire. Through the wall, Daughter could hear crackling, and little bits of who knows what, falling down.


Daughter: What's happening! What will we do?


(To be continued.)

The Man Next Door. Chapter 14.

Mother: Can you think of any reason why the man next door has a collection of little kiddies' bikes lying around on his front verandah?


Daughter: I've no idea why they would be there, and I'm not really interested at the moment. I had another bad dream last night, and once again I woke up in a bad mood.


Mother: What have you been dreaming about?


Daughter: In my dreams I've been feeling very unsafe. I'm often chased by bad people.


Mother: You need a ray gun, to point at the bad people in your dreams, to kill them.


Daughter: Would the ray gun be called Ronald?



A WEEK OR SO LATER.
On Mother's return home one night she heard something fall from a paperbark tree on the footpath, between the front of her house and the front of the man next door's house. A small branch had fallen from the tree, and next moment she saw the man next door, looking a bit dishevelled, and with little bits of paperbark in his hair.


The Man Next Door (greeting Mother excitedly): Have a look at what I've just done!... Look up there....up in the tree!


Mother: What is that little bike doing up there?


The Man Next Door: I just put it there!


Mother: You could have fallen!


The Man Next Door: I did fall, and brought down that branch......Now look higher up in the tree.


Mother looked again, and saw a really tiny bike suspended up near the top of the tree, looking somewhat like a Christmas fairy on a Christmas tree.


Mother: That's amazing!


The Man Next Door: Look up the next tree!


Mother: More bikes!.....And then three more bikes up the next tree!


The Man Next Door: Come along here. My favourite is the bike hanging from the upside down "Auction" sign.

(The sign was hanging upside down from a post, and the bike was hanging over the sign. It didn't seem to matter that it's front wheel was missing.)


Mother: I'm impressed. You're an artist!


The Man Next Door: You're not impressed enough!.... I'm going back inside.


Mother: I'm sorry. I really am very impressed, but when I try hard to show how impressed I am about something, people don't think I mean it. Maybe it's because I'm trying so hard that I somehow laugh.


The Man Next Door (who must have been reassured, because he continued talking, outside his front door):

My house is at a standstill because I'm seriously out of money.


Mother: Maybe you should marry a rich old woman.


The Man Next Door: What about a rich young woman?


Mother: Where will you find one?


The Man Next Door: I've met some on the North Shore, talking about their doctor fathers, and enthusing about my blue eyes.

My lovely girlfriend, who's very young, doesn't have much money, and her family is very poor.


Mother: That's a pity.


The Man Next Door: I think she's too young for me, but she really cares about me.

(a pause, then he continues with....)

I apologise for all the noise I make in my house.


Mother: What do you hear from our house?


The Man Next Door: The main thing I hear is laughter. I envy your family because you are able to laugh so much.

My family is Jewish, and I grew up in a household where there was no laughter.

My parents haven't visited me for about seven years because they are afraid of what they will find. They are worried about me. I occasionally visit them though.



NEXT EVENING.
(The man next door was sitting on his front doorstep, playing maracas, when mother returned home.)
The Man Next Door: I'm disappointed because I don't think anyone has noticed the bikes I put up in the trees.

I'm out here waiting for my girlfriend to visit me.



THE FOLLOWING EVENING.
As mother returned home she was disappointed to see that all the bikes in the trees were missing.

(At that moment the man next door suddenly appeared.)


Mother: What happened to all the bikes?


The Man Next Door: Council workers removed them. They just happened to come to inspect the trees in this street, when they found the bikes, and considered them to be unsafe. But when they tried to knock the bikes down they found that they were so well secured that it was necessary to bring in a cherrypicker, to get them down.


Mother: What a shame!

I wish I'd photographed the bikes while they were up there. I hope some people did notice them, and feel amazed.



THE NEXT DAY.
Mother: As I was coming back from the shop just now I saw two uniformed police walking along on the other side of the street. By the time I got here the police had arrived outside the man next door's house, and they were talking to him, I'm not sure what about. He was standing at his open front door.

I wanted to hear what was being said, but I couldn't just stand out there, watching, and being watched.

All I heard was a policewoman saying "Do you own the house?"

Once inside here I couldn't hear any more of the conversation. They're probably still out there talking.


Daughter: I guess they're talking to him about the bikes up in the trees.


Mother: I hope he doesn't get into a lot of trouble.

The Man Next Door. Chapter 13.

Mother: I can't believe it. I actually went inside the man next door's house.


Older Daughter: What on earth for?


Mother: We were interested in seeing whether his house is in danger of collapsing. So when he invited me in to see what he's built to support his house, while he knocks out walls, I took the opportunity, and followed him inside.


Older Daughter: What did you find?


Mother: Walking into his house was harder than I had expected. All the floorboards in the hallway had been removed, leaving a very big hole the length and width of the hallway, and about one metre deep. I had to follow the man next door along three narrow, bouncy boards, placed side by side, the length of the hallway. It wasn't reassuring to see that the boards only just overlapped something solid at either end, and that they weren't secured in any way. Underneath the boards was just the big hole.


Older Daughter: I wonder if he's ever fallen into the hole, after returning home drunk from the pub.


Mother: I wouldn't be surprised. I've seen him recently walking along dragging one leg, and holding his back, as if he'd injured himself.

As we walked along the bouncy boards he said "See what I've built".
He was proudly pointing at a bookcase-like structure, in lightweight-looking timber, with "shelves" about 18" apart, and occasional vertical struts. It rose from floor to ceiling, next to the great gaping hole where he has been knocking out the dividing wall between the two main downstairs rooms, shaking our house with all the knocking and banging that has been going on.

He explained, "I've built that to support the weight that used to be taken by the wall I'm knocking out, until I can put in place a pillar on either side, and a suppoting beam across the top.

The structure looked too flimsy to reassure me that his house won't collapse. What do you think? Do you think it would be strong enough?


Older Daughter: It's hard to say, without actually seeing what he's built.


Mother: The wall between the front room and the hall had been taken out too, so I could see a great long line of boxes, and unidentifiable things, stacked high, filling the front room. He explained the assortment of drums spread out on top, with ...

"I'm a drummer, you know."

When I reached the other end of the hallway, and thought it was safe to step off the bouncing boards, the man next door said "Don't step there!" ....."Step here," and we moved into the second room, where it was safe to move around a bit and talk. We were surrounded by a forest of lengths of timber, with other building materials and scaffolding and ladders stacked around.

Everything I could see in the house seemed to be grey, or in colour greys.

Maybe to explain the grey dustiness, the man next door said ..."There's a lot of dust in my house. I think it accumulated over the years during the time when there were steam trains travelling on the railway line over there." 

He added "I've told you how I managed to get rid of the termites, fleas and bedbugs in my house. I've also had to replace rotting and termite- affected timber. That's why I took out all the floorboards in the hall."


THE CONVERSATION CONTINUED.

The Man Next Door: Have you seen my lovely new girlfriend, who comes to help me work on the house?
She even brings her own toilet paper. She's only 25. I think she may be too young for me. I'm 44, but she thinks that's OK.


Mother: What happened to the lovely girlfriend you used to have, the one who used to laugh a lot?


The Man Next Door: I don't know which one you're talking about.


Mother: She seemed to disappear suddenly so we imagined that you had murdered her, and buried her under your kitchen floor!


The Man Next Door: There are various girls I've known on and off for a long time.


Mother: I may as well mention one thing that bothers my daughter, and Alpha.... the constantly running water in your toilet. They would like to offer to fix it for you. They know what to do and its simple.


The Man Next Door: That's kind of them, but I've fixed the problem. I've turned off all the water in my house. It was leaking in other places too. I get bottles of water from the pub.


Mother: What do you do when you need a shower?


The Man Next Door: My friend Phil across the road lets me use his shower. I've just had a shower there.


(Mother noticed that the man next door looked very clean, and soft-skinned. She didn't ask what he does when he needs to use the toilet.)


The Man Next Door: I really like your daughter, and Alpha. They are very kind to me. I need people to say nice things to me. Your daughter said some kind things to me the other day.


(Mother could remember Daughter reporting that she had been embarrassed by what she had said to the man next door....that if he hears us talking about him we are not criticising him. Mother knows that Daughter does feel compassion towards the man next door, knowing that he is an alcoholic, and also because he told her that he had been away recently, after things in his life fell apart.)



THEN SOMETHING UNEXPECTED HAPPENED.

Someone was calling out through the open front door ...."Can I come in too?"


The Man Next Door: Yes come on in.


Daughter (who appeared in the hallway): I was setting out for a walk, when I heard Mum laughing. I was curious about what was going on.


The Man Next Door: I invited your mother to come in to have a look and see how well I've propped up the house, while I'm taking out this wall. See what I've built.

And see my kitchen. It's going to look very different from that. I've got a photo here to show how I want it to look.

(He produced a photo from a magazine, showing a pleasant, spacious, peaceful-looking kitchen, full of light, in subtle shades of green and beige.)

(When he lowered the photo, and the existing kitchen was revealed again, Mother and Daughter both found it hard to believe that such a transformation was possible.)


The Man Next Door: I'm hoping to get permission from the owner of your house to extend the wall of my kitchen to the boundary between our houses.


Mother: I think it would be nice if that wall has lots of glass, or if there is a sloping glass roof.


The Man Next Door: Yes, that's what I'm planning.

And on the subject of glass ... I'm going to use lots of glass in my bathroom. I plan to build a big bathroom above the living room, where you'll walk between walls of glass, enclosing fish tanks on either side.


Daughter: That sounds lovely!


Mother: I hope you don't get drunk, and accidentally break the glass, and cause an avalanche of water, cascading downstairs.


The Man Next Door: That won't happen, because I've got lots of 3/4" thick glass for the fish tanks.

You know, one thing I really enjoy is hearing all the laughter that comes from your house.


Mother (thinks): It's just as well he doesn't know that a lot of our laughter is about him.



(At this stage the man next door's mate Phil, from across the road, arrives, and is introduced. Mother and Daughter then decide to leave.)



BACK AT HOME

Daughter: Its surprising, but in spite of all the drabness and chaos, you have to admit that the house next door has quite a pleasant feel about it.


(To be continued.)

The Man Next Door. Chapter 12.

Daughter: I saw something very funny in Cleveland Street today. An elderly man with a walking frame was crossing the road, but not at the traffic lights. He was crossing half way up the street. He didn't bother looking to see what traffic was coming. He just proceeded across the street in front of the traffic, making it stop for him. I watched, fascinated, wondering if he would be hit by a car. Not only did he get across the street without mishap, he immediately turned around and crossed back the same way. But that wasn't enough for him. For as long as I could be bothered watching him I saw him continue back and forth across the busy road, slowly, using his walking frame.


Mother: I've seen a young woman getting excitement on Cleveland Street too, hurtling down a hill on her bike, just ahead of the traffic. She was having so much fun that she was squealing with delight, freewheeling at speed, her legs sticking out sideways, no helmet on and her hair flying free.


Alpha: I've seen her too. She often rides her bike like that down the Cleveland Street hill. She enjoys it so much that she rides around the block, then hurtles down the hill again and again, with the traffic coming close behind her.

I've had fun on my own bike too, without really trying. Yesterday I was riding along a footpath when I saw a young man snatch a woman's handbag. The woman stood there, bewildered, and the thief hurried away. I just kept on riding along towards him, and he thought I was chasing him, so he began to run. But he soon fell over, and the handbag flew out of his hand and almost onto the road. Luckily I was just in time to pick it up, and return it to the astonished woman.


Mother: I can imagine you wearing a hero's cape at the time.


Alpha: The young man who I'm most likely to see snatching women's handbags waits close to certain corners, particularly on Abercrombie Street, close to Cleveland Street, where he can get away up a side street. One young woman I saw was so involved in a conversation on her mobile phone that she was an easy target for him.


Mother: It seems that nothing really exciting happens around here, apart from the Redfern Riots, which I'm sure were out of character,... and just the occasional murder.

But there's one thing I'm afraid might happen, that would be very exciting for us. The man next door's house might collapse, bringing part of our house down too.The way our house shakes so much as he attacks his house, I wonder if what he's doing is safe.

Have you noticed how his ute gets so overloaded with all the bricks and rubble he takes out of his house that you'd think it would be impossible for it to move. There is a trailer that he loads up too. He must be removing so many walls that you wonder what is left to support the top floor.

I hope he knows what he's doing.


Daughter: Do you think some authority should inspect what he's doing, to make sure it's safe.

Should we ask the Council, or the owner of our house to investigate?


Mother: I wouldn't like to be involved in that. It could get the man next door into trouble.


Daughter: Maybe we should just ask the man next door if we can have a look inside his house.


Mother: I wouldn't go in there if I were you.



A FEW DAYS LATER.
Daughter: Last night the man next door must have invited young people from the pub back to his place for a party.

Suddenly I heard an alarming crash, as if something significant was being destroyed.

Someone called out "You idiot!", and said it again and again as the smashing and crashing continued. There was also laughter. I wonder what was happening.

A bit later, the man next door sounded as though he was crying. And then he was shouting. It sounded as though he was going off his head, as he complained that his life is a mess.


Mother: We think we are observing the man next door's life, but there must be many aspects of his life that we know little about. And who knows the extent of the disappointments and demons he has to deal with.


Daughter: I've heard him having emotional telephone conversations with a woman, maybe his ex partner, telling her how much he loves her, and imploring her to come back.

Alpha has spoken to him and found out that he has a young daughter who lives overseas with her mother. He must miss his daughter too.

Sometimes he has phone conversations in a foreign language that I can't identify, and I've also heard him talking to a relative who was criticising him for his drinking.


Mother: I wonder how old he is.


Daughter: How old do you think he is?


Mother: He must be in his 40's. How old he looks depends on what state he's in.


Daughter: I'd say he is about 45.


Mother: Yes, I'd agree with that.



ANOTHER MORNING.
Daughter: Something funny happened last night. There was a party going on next door and I was annoyed because all the noise was keeping me awake. When I heard the man next door pissing outside his kitchen door, almost under my window, I decided to catch him while he was vulnerable, and I threw up my window and looked down at him, calling out ..."It's really loud."...."We can't sleep."

I said no more because the situation was mutually embarrassing, and that was probably why he didn't respond.



A FEW DAYS LATER.
Mother notices that in the last few days the front door of the house next door is sometimes open.

Going past she looks in to try to make out what can be seen. It is such a grey, dismal, cluttered shambles that it is hard to identify anything.

So she decides to pause for a moment on her way back from the shop to have a better look in through the open front door. When she looks in the first thing she can make out is the face of the man next door, as he emerges from his house.


The Man Next Door: I apologise for all the noise I've been making.


Mother: What we do worry about is whether your house is going to fall down.


The Man Next Door: Well, if it does collapse it will just fall on me. But don't worry, it's well propped up.

Would you like to come inside to see what I've built to hold things up until I can put in a steel beam?


Mother (thinks): Here is the opportunity we have been looking for.

Then, she can hardly believe what is happening, that in spite of the times she has said that she would never go in next door, here she is, about to step inside the man next door's house.

The Man Next Door. Chapter 11.

Mother: Did you find out anything interesting from the owner of our house when he visited today?


Daughter: Lots of interesting things. For one thing, when the owner bought this house he bought it unseen, from an elderly bag-lady type of woman, whose relatives had persuaded her to sell the house. She moved out of the house reluctantly, leaving behind such a terrible mess that when the owner came to look at the house for the first time he was unable to open the front door because of the overwhelming amount of rubbish filling the hallway. He said that the stench of rotting food was terrible.

The whole house was in such a filthy, neglected state that it took a whole year's work to make it fit to live in.


Mother: The owner did a really good job of renovating this house. It's now so nice and pleasant inside that it seems that no trace of the bag lady has been left behind.


Daughter: The owner of our house also told me that when the man next door bought his house it was in an even worse state of neglect, disrepair and filth than his house had been. Two elderly brothers had lived in the house all their lives, without electricity, or a bathroom. Their parents had owned the house from the time it was built, until they died.


Mother: When the man next door once told me that he had managed to get rid of the termites, fleas and bedbugs in his house, I didn't realise that they must have been there when he bought it. Now he seems to have got rid of the rats too. I would sometimes see a rat climbing up an electric cable, and into his house through an upstairs window.


Daughter: I used to see rats running along the tops of fences.


Mother: And I once saw a rat climbing over the bars of one of our windows, trying to find a way in.


Daughter: Who knows what decay and grime, and evidence of the lives of the elderly brothers, the man next door has had to contend with.


Mother: Maybe the ghosts of the elderly brothers remain in the house. You can imagine them, clinging to the house, filling it with their presences, both before and after the men's deaths, resisting any change, and hampering the man next door's efforts to renovate the house.


Daughter: The ghosts must really resent new people in the house, particularly women, and all the noise, and activity, and drinking, and loud music, and drumming, and the banging, and knocking, and destruction that has been going on next door.


Mother: Now I can see that the man next door has been knocking the shit out of his house, and has had to almost destroy it, in order to try to get rid of all traces, and influence, of the brothers and their ghosts.

No wonder it is so hard for him to make progress on his house.

There's a battle going on. And now he seems to have given up the battle for a while, the way he is away from his house for weeks at a time, and when he returns with his girlfriend they only stay there briefly.


Daughter: He must have got sick of living in chaos, struggling for so long to renovate his house, but with so much work left to do.


Mother: Have the ghosts in fact won? Or will the man next door eventually make another assault on them?

Who will win in the end?


Daughter: Talking about ghosts.... I wonder what other ghosts there are in the houses in this street.


Mother: I'm sure there are quite a few, hanging onto times past, in this long row of terrace houses.

One is the ghost of the mother of the extremely fat man who lives a few doors up. One day he told me about her as he stood out the front of his house. You know how he stands there occasionally, arms wide apart, as he leans forward on his cast iron fence, his body so large that it is not possible to take it all in, in one glance.

He has lived in that house all his life. His mother spent all her life there too. She was born in the house, and she died there too, while he was away on holidays overseas.

On his return he saw her ghost in the house, dressed in a nighty, brushing her long hair.

It must have been after this that he grew so fat, because he once worked as a doorman at a big, posh hotel in the city, and he must have looked very presentable then.


Daughter: You know, the houses in this street are starting to give me the creeps.


Mother: It's a good thing we are each going out tonight. Maybe the trouble is just that it's boring around here, while the man next door is away.



A WEEK LATER
(There were lights on next door, loud music was playing, and lots of very loud banging was shaking both houses alarmingly.)


Mother: It sounds as though the man next door is back with a vengeance!

The Man Next Door. Chapter 10.

Daughter: Apparently the man next door didn't murder his girlfriend after all.


Mother: How do you know that? Why haven't we seen her around then?


Daughter: Alpha told me what he has found out about her. She's still around, but she's changed a lot. Now she smokes, and gets drunk, and he thinks she's turning into an alcoholic. She slips into the house next door at one am in the morning, after leaving the pub with the man next door.


Mother: He has obviously given up trying to impress her by showing how well he can look after himself. I can't see any food in his kitchen, and for a long time there has only been something white at the bottom of his wire fruit basket. I can't tell whether it's garlic, or just a crumpled up piece of paper.



A COUPLE OF DAYS LATER.
(Mother and Peter were saying goodbye, after a lovely time together)

Peter: I'll park here to kiss you goodbye, rather than kiss you near your house, in case someone is watching us.


Mother: That reminds me about something strange that happened to me yesterday. I was waiting to cross the road outside the station, (on my way to my daughter's house,) when I turned my head just in time to see a young Asian man close to me, with a camera to his eye, pressing the button and taking my photo. Why on earth would he be taking my photo?


Peter: That's strange. You have to be careful. Maybe he wants to steal your identity or something. Has any of your mail gone missing lately?


Mother: I'm still waiting for some things to arrive.

(Mother hadn't told Peter anything about the madman and the small red car, in case he got anxious.)



WEEKS LATER.
Mother: I've just seen something very interesting. On my way here, as I walked down the lane, I saw a small red car driving in through the side gate behind the house at the bottom of the lane.

This may have been the car that frightened me in the lane that night. The most interesting thing is that it had different number plates from the madman's small red car, and it was being driven by a young Asian woman.

I felt so glad I hadn't rung the police to complain about a madman in a small red car chasing me, and trying to kill me
.
On the other hand, if it was this car that followed me up the lane that night, maybe there is some connection between the Asian woman driving it, and the Asian man who took my photo near the station recently.



Older Daughter: But the car that frightened you that night might have been another small red car.


Mother: Of course. It could still have been the madman's car, or it could have been yet another small red car.



WEEKS LATER:
Mother: I just saw the madman's red car being pulled up onto the back of an NRMA tow truck. It was the same car. I know the number plates by heart. But there was a dark haired young woman there. I could hear her voice, then I saw her sitting in the passenger seat of the tow truck. Her thick, tousled black hair was cut in a boyish bob.

So I wonder, does this red car really belong to the madman, or does it belong to this girl?
Was this girl in fact the madman?


Older Daughter: I think you made the whole story up.


Mother: I did not! It's all true.

Maybe the car was always her's, and never the madman's. Maybe it was just a coincidence that, on two occasions when I saw the madman, he was close to that small red car, so that I assumed it was his.



WEEKS WENT BY.
Mother (to Older Daughter): I often see "the madman's" car parked in the street, but I haven't seen the madman again. I haven't seen the girl with tousled black hair again either.
Have you seen them?


Older Daughter: Not that I know of.


Mother: After I crossed the road to your place, on my way here, I turned around and saw "the madman's" small red car pull up in front of the flats across the road, and I wondered who would get out.

What happened is what always happens. Whenever I see "the madman's" car pulling up I look to see who will get out, but no one ever does.

(To be continued.)

The Man Next Door. Chapter 9.

Son (who was visiting):  What is the man next door up to these days?


Daughter:  He seems to have been working lately.


Son:  I gather that he has gone downhill quite a lot since he moved into his house, which was about the same time as I moved in here, when I lived in this house. I thought he seemed very nice in those days, bright and enthusiastic, and not at all derelict. But he did make mistakes even then.

One day when I was at home I heard a lot of noise on the roof. I went out into our yard, where I could see the roof and what was going on. There was a long ladder leaning up against the back wall of the house next door, and sitting right on top of his high roof was the man next door.

I called out to see if he was OK.

"Yes", he said. "I've lost my keys, and I'm getting inside through a hole in the roof."


There was no obvious hole in his roof, but there must have been some loose roofing iron that he was trying to move, so he could lift up one edge and squeeze inside, into the roof space.


Alpha:  I witnessed something similar one day. First, there was a big crash into the side yard of the house next door, just after I saw a long ladder fall backwards, away from the house. At the same time I heard loud scratching, and angry exclamations from the roof.

When I got outside to see what was happening, there was the man next door perched on top of his high roof, ringing someone on his mobile phone. He was stuck up there, maybe because it was no longer possible for him to get inside by moving sheets of roofing iron. He must have wanted someone to put the ladder back up, so he could come down. It took half an hour for someone to come and rescue him.



ONE EVENING. (The sound of the man next door chopping up firewood.)

Daughter:  No matter what time he gets home from the pub at night I hear the man next door outside, chopping up firewood. It must be so cold in his house, now it is winter.


Mother:  Yes. Especially with no glass in so many windows upstairs. When the lights are on at night you can see the blue of the back of the sisalation he has installed under the roofing iron. I guess it will be a long time before he replaces the upstairs ceilings.

I wonder how his girlfriend copes with his cold house.



SOME WEEKS LATER.
Mother:  I'm pleased to see that the man next door has put sisalation over the glass-less windows upstairs, to keep out the cold and wind and rain.

Have you seen his girlfriend lately?


Daughter:  No, she disappeared suddenly a few weeks ago. Since then his old girlfriend seems to be back sometimes, the one who pisses in a bucket outside. He was at the front of the house with her last night, and this morning an empty wine bottle had been left out there.


Mother:  I wonder what happened to his nice girlfriend, the one that once laughed a lot?


Older Daughter (who was visiting):  Maybe he murdered her!


Mother:  I've seen a big hole in his kitchen floor, inside his back door. Now there is a big piece of wood over the hole. Maybe he buried her there.



ANOTHER DAY.
Daughter:  The man next door's ute was towed away again yesterday. That must be about the fourth time lately. If it is continually breaking down I wonder if he still has his job? The ute is out the front today with the big tool boxes still on the back, but no ladders. Alpha saw him making his lunch a few weeks ago, no doubt before he went to work. It was avocado in a roll.

There's nothing happy to say about the man next door at the moment. You just wonder how long he can keep going. He definitely seems to be going down hill.

We saw him outside the pub the other day, and he looked quite derelict. He seems to just match his derelict-looking house, which he is supposed to be doing up.

The Man Next Door. Chapter 8.

Mother: Coming here I walked down the lane, looking for any sign of the small red car that followed me up the lane last night. I think I saw it, parked in front of the flats at the bottom of the lane.

I had a scarey feeling when I saw that the man standing next to the small red car was the creepy, evil-looking young madman I had felt afraid of when I first saw him in the yard of a house near your's.

My hair stood on end as I thought about how close he had been to me in that dark lane last night.


Older Daughter:  Wow!


Mother: I memorised the car's number plates and the look of the car, but I couldn't tell what make it was.


Older Daughter: Maybe you should ring the police, in case there are other incidents involving a small red car, that the madman may be responsible for.



A WEEK LATER.
Mother (on mobile phone to daughter): I thought I should tell you that something scarey happened again tonight. As I left your place I saw someone sitting on the fence in front of the flats across the road.

There was something menacing about the figure, and as I got closer I saw that it was the young madman.
He seemed to be waiting for me. His car was parked in front of him.

When he saw that I was about to walk up the street straight ahead, instead of walking past him and up the lane, he looked very angry and agitated, and he jumped up wildly, shouting ..."Shit!"..."Shit"!..."Shit!"...
He headed in my direction, then on towards his car as I moved past, heading up the street.

I think he had been planning to have another go at running me down, or following me up the lane. Now I was afraid he might still drive after me, looking for another opportunity to run me down.

I got to the station alright, but I thought I should warn you to be extra careful, with that crazy man around, so close to your house.


Older Daughter:  Thanks for scaring me!



ANOTHER NIGHT.
Mother:  What on earth has the man next door done to his kitchen window?


Daughter:  Maybe he has installed that shelf half way up the window so he can hang that tea towel from it, to hide behind when he's at the kitchen sink.



LATER.
Daughter:  I just saw the man next door's girlfriend at his sink, and she looked across through the gap beside the tea towel, and caught my eye. Then she waved.


Mother:  How did you respond?


Daughter:  I felt embarrassed, so I moved out of sight.


Mother:  So the laughing girlfriend still visits next door. I haven't heard her laughter lately.


Daughter:  She still visits, but she doesn't laugh any more.



ANOTHER DAY.
Mother:  Did you notice all the work being done next door today? I had a good look at the man next door's girlfriend as she helped him clean up the place. I could see her thick, wavy, dark hair and the long-suffering expression on her face. She didn't seen to be having fun. When I saw her emptying the vacuum cleaner she was wearing a face mask.


Daughter: Yes, they must have done a big job. The man next door was finding a lot of rubbish to put in the trailer he has out the front. And the back of his ute is already overloaded with junk.



LATER THAT DAY.
Mother: When I walked past the house next door the front door was open and I could see young men inside, and the man next door was there, working on something. I could see that there are no floorboards in place along most of the hallway, which is now blocked by a bike, and other bulky items, so people coming into the house have to soon step sideways, into the front room.


Daughter: Now you can see the man next door through his kitchen window, cutting up food. He must be going to have a party. You have to admit, there must be something charismatic about him, the way people like to visit his house, in spite of the chaos there.


LATER.
(Loud but enjoyable music, and the sounds of people talking, indicated that the party was starting.)


(To Be Continued.)

The Man Next Door. Chapter 7.

Older Daughter (who was visiting):  The man next door is sending you "Love and Kisses".
(Looking out the window she could see a circle and a cross, painted on the lower panes of the man next door's kitchen window.)


Daughter: Oh year, I hadn't thought of that. And have you seen the man next door's ute lately?


Mother:  What about it?


Daughter:  He's written all over it in texta, and on the front corner, closest to our house, he's written my name, then xxx.



ONE EVENING
Peter:  Watch out for the people in the house along there. They look like bad types.

(Then, as he waited for a police car to drive by)
Be careful what you do. I've seen another police car too, and they must be closing off streets, and looking for someone.


ANOTHER DAY.
Mother:  (To her older daughter.)  I'm not as suspicious or paranoid as Peter, but on my way here I saw a scarey looking young man in the side yard of a house, a few doors up. There was something sinister about him. It wasn't just his dark clothes and hood, it was also the way he walked. He leaned forward, looking very tense, with an angry expression on his face. I think he must be mad, or evil, or both.


Older Daughter:  Maybe he is the mad guy Frank has seen around.


Mother:  I think you should be very careful, and make sure that you always lock your front and back doors. I'm going to go and secure the side gates right now, so he can't sneak into the back yard. When I saw him I got the distinct impression that he might murder someone. I worry about you and little Igor being alone here sometimes.



WEEKS LATER.
Mother: (on mobile phone to daughter)  After I left your place just now something scarey happened. Before I crossed the road I checked for headlights, and I let one car pass. I was about to walk up the lane across the road when suddenly I had to jump aside to avoid being hit by a car that came out of nowhere. It must have done a U turn at the lane.
Next thing there were the lights of a car coming up the lane behind me, so I moved to the right hand side to let it pass. But the car moved to the right too.
When I moved to the left, so did the car, and then it moved back to the right when I did, to keep just behind me. Then it seemed to stop.


Older Daughter:  I wonder what the car was doing. Was that all?


Mother:  No. I got scared when the car started following me again. I turned around angrily, hand raised, muttering "What are you doing?", and I could see that the small red car had stopped close behind me, with the interior lights on. I could see that the driver's door was open, but I couldn't see the driver. I thought "Maybe the driver is now coming after me on foot."


Older Daughter:  Did you eventually see the driver?


Mother:  No. I was scared, so I hurried as fast as I could to the end of the lane. When I turned to look back down I saw that the car had gone.


Older Daughter:  Are you alright now?


Mother:  Yes, just a bit shaken by it all.


Older Daughter:  You shouldn't walk up that lane after dark.


Mother:  I know. I won't do it again.


Older Daughter:  Do you think you should ring the police?


Mother:  I don't know. Not tonight. I'm going out.
(She decided not to tell Peter about the red car in case he got anxious.)


(To be continued.)

The Man Next Door. Chapter 6.

Mother: Have you noticed the big wire basket full of oranges inside the man next door's kitchen window? He brought home a bag of oranges yesterday.


Daughter:  They look lovely, don't they.


Mother:  And have you noticed all the jars and cans of food from Aldi he has just bought, and stacked with care on the bench next to the stove? Its unusual to see him stocking up with food. There are cans of tomato paste, tuna, etc. and jars of peanut butter, bolognaise sauce, and other things.


Daughter:  I think he must have bought up food because of his new girlfriend.


Mother: Yes, I was surprised to look up and see them looking my way through the window opposite our bathroom, as he showed her over the house.


Daughter: The day before she arrived he was rushing around all day cleaning and preparing his house, and after she arrived the flurry of activity has continued. I have heard a lot of her laughter as they seem to have been enjoying cleaning and organising the house together. Now they are busy in the kitchen. Look at his flamboyant gestures as he attends to the frying pan. I've noticed before that when he has visitors he likes to make a good impression in the kitchen.


Mother. What does she look like? I've only seen glimpses of her, and heard her laughter.


Daughter:  I haven't had a good look at her either, but she looks very Irish, with thick, wavy, dark hair, and there is a compact roundness about her body. The nicest thing is her laugh.


Mother:  Yes, I've heard her laughing a lot....not empty, show-off laughter, but genuine, happy, musical laughter, often while she is teasing him.


Daughter:  Alpha said that the first time he heard them making love she was teasing him and he was calling out for mercy, and he sounded as though he was about to die.


Later.
Daughter:  You know, I wonder if the man next door has found out that he is really sick, and that is why his girlfriend has started to come around visiting him. She sounds as though she is really concerned about him. And I heard him talking about multivitamins, as though he has just started to take them, and as if they are very important for his well being. He must be getting healthier.


Mother:  Maybe he is being transformed. You now hear him talking in a calm, intelligent, loving way.


Another day.
Mother:  You know, days are going by and the oranges in the fruit basket seem to have remained untouched. They're all still there. I have counted , and kept an eye on them. There are still six oranges on top, above the rim of the basket, and then one orange on top of them. I'm disappointed that he is not getting any benefit from them while they still look so fresh and full of goodness.

Instead of getting healthier he seems to be continuing to go down hill. I just saw him walking past the house, and he looked terrible, with big bags under his eyes.


Days went by.

Mother:  Yesterday I saw him coming and going out the front of his house, loading things into his ute. He was taking out mainly tools, but on one trip he had an orange and a banana in one hand, and he placed them carefully in the glove box. After I finished bringing in our bins I set out along the street and the man next door was coming out his front door again just as I walked past. I couldn't resist saying "Hello." "Are you on your way to work?"


Man Next Door: Yes. I have begun a job as a repair man for Department of Housing properties at Waterloo and Redfern.


Mother:  Do you like the job?


The Man Next Door:  Its bread and butter on the table......Its OK so far, but I wouldn't like to live there. There is so much noise, and the Department of  Housing tenants are difficult. They live crazy lives. I feel sorry for the young people, the way they live. And sometimes I see people shooting up while I work in their flat.

Sometimes its difficult to get into premises. After waiting three days for an appointment to get into one flat to start work, I was then asked to leave while they went shopping.


Mother:  I know about Department of Housing properties. I lived in one in the country for a year, and got to know a carpenter who did repairs , like you. He told me about some female tenants trying to get onto him as he worked.


The Man Next Door:  That hasn't happened to me yet. (maybe with a tone of disappointment.)


Later.
Mother: (to Daughter).  Then he looked friendlier, and I thought to myself ...."Don't look at me with those seductive blue eyes." I decided it was time to end the conversation and let him get away to work, while I continued on my walk. I don't find him attractive anyway.


Daughter: I don't know what his girlfriend sees in him.


Mother:  But he does have a nice speaking voice, and he sounds intelligent enough when he talks.


A week or so later.
Mother:  I wonder how the man next door's job is going.


Daughter:  Maybe not so well. I noticed his heavily-laden ute being towed away yesterday, and the same thing happened a week ago.

(To be continued.)

The Man Next Door. Chapter 5.

Mother:  Last night I was waiting outside for Peter to come along in his car to pick me up, when the man next door came out of his house and shuffled off to the pub. He soon returned and went back into his house. Then he came out again and was off back to the pub, but he returned almost immediately, and this time, instead of going back into his house he came along to outside our house. I was waiting just inside the fence and he stood close to me on the other side of the fence. "Do you like corn chips?", he asked, as he offered me some of the contents of the open packet he was holding.

I felt uneasy about him being there, and wished he would go away, because Peter was likely to arrive at any moment, and might get suspicious if he saw the man next door talking to me.

"Corn chips are quite nice" I replied, "but I don't want to eat any now because I am expecting someone to come along to pick me up at any moment, and here he comes."


The man next door shuffled off just as Peter's car drew up. Peter didn't ask who I had been talking to so I hoped he hadn't noticed the man next door.

You know, I have an idea that the man next door took the opportunity to talk to me because he was curious about the Alcoholics Anonymous literature you put under his door last week. He may have wanted to sound me out to see if one of us was responsible for it.


Daughter: He must suspect that it was one of us. I'm afraid that he will have to hit rock bottom before he decides that he should stop drinking.


One morning a few days later.
Mother: Peter must have noticed me talking to the man next door out the front last time because the first thing he asked me last night was "do you know any of your neighbours, or people in the street very well?"...."What are your neighbours like?" So I told him briefly about the nice couple living on one side of us, and that the man living on the other side of us is a bit crazy.


Daughter: Listen to that man vomiting.


Mother: It sounds bad doesn't it.


Daughter: Alpha and I have been hearing him vomiting like that every morning for months.


Mother: Do you know where he lives? Do you think he lives in one of the apartments behind our house?


Daughter: I think so, but I'm not sure which one.


Early one morning, the following week, Mother answered a knock at the front door. She found a policeman standing there, note pad in hand.


Policeman: Did you hear any shooting last night?


Mother: Yes. I was woken by the sound of shooting close by, but when I got up and looked out the window and saw and heard nothing, and when I didn't hear any sirens, or police cars or ambulances arriving, I began to think that the noise must have been fireworks.


Policeman: We didn't come because no one rang us. Do you know what time it was when you heard the shooting.


Mother: I had been asleep, and it woke me up. I didn't check the time, but I have a feeling that it was about 1.00 am.


Later that day Mother noticed that, for the first time, all the blinds were down in the bottom floor apartment directly behind their house.


Alpha: Today there were police in the street outside the block of apartments behind our house. They were no doubt investigating the shooting last night.


Mother: I wonder who got shot?


Some days later.
Mother: Have you heard the man vomiting lately?


Daughter: No. Its strange, but we haven't heard him.


Mother: Do you think that maybe he got so sick of his life that he shot himself the other night?


Daughter: I guess that is a possibility. But how many shots did you hear?


Mother: More than one, I think...I'm not sure.


A few days later.

Son (who was visiting): I heard on the news last week that there was a drive-by shooting on The Block, close to your place.


Mother: Was anyone killed?


Son: They didn't say.


The blinds remained down in the ground floor apartment behind the house for many weeks, until new tenants moved in. The vomiting man was never heard again.

The Man Next Door. Chapter 4

Mother:  As I returned home just now I was followed by some young men. They went by as I looked for my key at the front door, and a young man who was trying to catch up to them paused to say, while indicating the house next door, "I hope Lertch doesn't make too much noise for you."...."I hope so too," I replied.


Daughter:  The young men had probably just left the pub. I hate the way everything the man next door hears from our house gets talked about at the pub.


Next Morning.
Daughter:  Last night I was kept awake by a loud conversation between the man next door and his girlfriend. I was so exasperated that I opened my window and called out "You are so boring!" He didn't like that at all. He said to his girlfriend "...."She said I am boring!" ...."She thinks I am boring!" He couldn't cope with being called boring. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. I think I will write him a note to apologise.


Later.
Daughter:  Do you want to know what I wrote in my apology to the man next door?


Mother:  What did you say?


Daughter:  I said "I'm sorry I said you were boring." ..."That was a really stupid and unfair thing to say."...."You are probably a really interesting guy, but unfortunately any noise that keeps me awake at 3.00 am in the morning is really boring"... "No hard feelings." I signed off with "Your  premenstrual neighbour."

Where will I put the note? If I put it under his front door it may not be noticed.


Mother:  You could attatch it to his side of the falling down dividing fence, opposite his kitchen door. But you need to make it catch his attention.


Daughter:  I'll fold the paper, and turn it into a card. Now I've drawn a happy, smiling face on the front. Do you like the moustache and glasses I've added?


Mother:  Maybe you could add a big "Hello". That should get his attention.


About midday the man next door's reply was pushed through the letter slot in their front door, moments after they saw him walking by, looking shabby and hungover. His note was written in pencil, on a grubby piece of paper. The note said "I'm sorry I keep you awake with my noise. I know I have been a very difficult neighbour, and thank you for drawing attention to the fact that I am boring. Maybe you should come over for a bbq one day to see what a great guy I really am. And as for boring, you are fucking boring! All you do is walk up and down the street looking really sexy. How fucking boring is that!"



It was Friday evening. There was something about the summer evening, after a long, hot day, that made Mother suddenly get up from the table without drinking the cup of tea she had just made. Without cleaning her teeth, or checking to make sure that none of the delicious meal she had just eaten was sticking to her face, she felt compelled to straight away go out for a walk, although it would soon be dark. She crossed the road at the corner, turned left, and at the next corner she heard a man's voice. She looked up to see if he was talking to her.


Man In Street:  I love your hair....I saw you coming ...Is there an RSL Club around here? I'm new to this area, and I'm just looking around.


Mother looked at the man and noticed that he looked quite nice. He was probably in his early 40's, and she noticed that he had very broad shoulders, a good body, and that he was reasonably tall. His face was quite nice too, but he looked painfully nervous. Was that a slight twitch in his cheek?


Mother:  I can't think where there is an RSL Club around here. There is a pub on that corner, and another, better one a couple of blocks away up there.


Man In Street:  Would you like to have a couple of drinks with me? I don't have to work in the morning.


Mother was aware that if she went with this man into the nearby pub, the man next door was likely to be there, observing them. She also did not like pubs. Without giving it any more thought she replied ...


Mother:  I hate pubs! ... I've spent too much time in pubs with an alcoholic partner.


She went to move on.


Man In Street:  Do you have to go?


Mother:  I'm going for a walk, and then I have things to do at home.


Man In Street:  I may as well get your phone number.


Mother:  Oh! OK.


And that is how Mother met Peter, who rang early next morning to make sure she had got home safely from her walk. Then a few days later he rang again, and at the end of the week they began to meet regularly.

The Man Next Door. Chapter 3.

Daughter:  I had a dreadful dream last night. It took place just as a real storm hit outside.I dreamt that my room was different, long, with hinged windows and shutters all along, and when a great gust of wind struck, it blew out all the windows and there was glass everywhere. As often happens, there were people next door making a lot of noise, talking and drinking and partying as I was going to sleep, so when I went to sleep I dreamt that I was in next door. Sometimes I just dream that I'm observing what goes on, and sometimes I'm getting involved. Once I was making everyone cups of tea, after heating the water in a large saucepan which took ages to boil. Sometimes I'm joining in the drinking and dancing and socialising. One night the dancing was so real that in the morning I asked Alpha if he had noticed dancing next door during the night.

What would you think if I actually started going in next door, and getting involved in what goes on there?


Mother: Knowing your past history I'd say it would be the beginning of the end for you. Would you want to get onto the man next door? I certainly don't fancy him. And there seems to be something funny about his legs. Have you noticed the way he shuffles along to the pub?


Daughter: He's not so bad physically, but he has such an ugly personality. All he does is complain. I hear him complain about his life and about people and everything. If I wanted to get onto someone it would be one of the interesting, attractive young men I've dreamt about, partying next door.

I hope we're not being unkind to the man next door.


Mother: Why? You don't think he can feel our criticism do you? We're just having fun seeing it as a story.

But he does tend to get nasty when he gets drunk, ordering loud-mouthed women out of his house when they take over the limelight during a party, or if they go somewhere they're not supposed to go. And I heard him being very nasty to a girlfriend one night, when they were upstairs together.

"You are not that pretty", he said..."I'm not that desperate that I want to go to bed with you."

Then he began to shout  ..."Get out of my house"...."Get out of my house," and I wondered why she didn't leave. I could see him standing in the room looking like Napoleon, as he shouted at her.

Next thing the light went out and all was quiet. Maybe they went to bed together after all.


Daughter: Maybe these days he's trying to be nicer to his girlfriends, so he can hang onto them.


Mother: I've heard recently that men his age can easily slip from respectability, with good jobs, or even professions, into homelessness.

But he shouldn't, because he's lucky enough to own his own home.


Daughter: I'm not so sure about that. A couple of days ago I saw a letter on his front doorstep from RAMS Mortgages.

Maybe he's in financial difficulties, and having trouble paying his mortgage.


(To be continued.)

The Man Next Door. Chapter 2.

Mother: The first time I had a close look at The Man Next Door was one winter evening when I answered a knock at the front door.There stood a bright-eyed, pleasant-faced young man, looking friendly, and somewhat excited.
I didn't recognise him as The Man Next Door until he introduced himself.


The Man Next Door:  I'm your next door neighbour, who lives on that side.

Mother:  I'm sorry I didn't recognise you. You look much better up close.

The Man Next Door:  I'm sorry, but my garbage bin seems to be on your front verandah.

Mother:  Really! I usually check the number on the bin, but this morning I was in a hurry.That bin was the only one left out the front so I assumed it was ours. Sorry about that. I wonder where our bin is.

(They both looked up and down the street of terrace houses, and could see only one bin left out on the footpath, well up towards the end of the street.)

The Man Next Door: I'll go and see if that one is your's.

Mother: That would be very nice of you. I haven't got shoes on, only sox.

(The Man Next Door hurried away along the footpath and returned triumphant with the bin.)

The Man Next Door: It's your bin.

Mother: Oh, that's wonderful. I'm very grateful to you.
(She thinks) What a nice man.

(The Man Next Door stood there and seemed to want to talk some more.)

The Man Next Door: Did you hear anything going on in my backyard one night last week, while I was away?

Mother: We didn't know you were away.Yes, I heard noises and voices one night but I couldn't see what was going on. Alpha heard noises too, and he could see something going on in your backyard. Next morning he said that he wondered why you were removing timber from your backyard in the middle of the night.

The Man Next Door: It wasn't me removing the timber. Some men pulled down my back fence so they could take out all the timber in my backyard and take it up to The Block. It was a cold night and they must have somehow known about the timber in my backyard and they had decided to get it to make a big fire to keep them warm while they stood around drinking and talking. They took my wheelbarrow too.

At about the same time, the man who lives opposite me heard and saw some men trying to break into my house through the front door, and he called the police. When the police came they caught two men in your backyard, trying to break into the back of your house, after failing to get in through the back of my house.

Mother: We had no idea all that was going on.

The Man Next Door: After I came back home, and found out what had happened in my absence, I went down to The Block and found people warming themselves around a fire, with a big pile of timber close by, along with my wheelbarrow.
I said to them "That's my timber you are burning, and that's my wheelbarrow."
They protested when I tried to take back my wheelbarrow, but I took it anyway.

When I got back home again I still had to re erect my back fence.

Mother: Fancy all that happening. And we may never have found out about it if I hadn't brought in the wrong garbage bin.
I hate to imagine what might have happened if the men had managed to break into our house without being caught, while we were asleep.

The Man Next Door

Daughter: He must hate us.


Mother: Why?


Daughter: Because we witness the way he lives.


Mother: I wonder what he thinks about the way we live?

As I walked past the pub one day last week I saw him standing outside, and when I looked at him he rolled his eyes contemptuously.


Daughter: We treat him with contempt too.

He seems to be going downhill and I hope our attitude isn't affecting him.


Mother: It's just that when I first saw him he reminded me of a mangey rat, the way he skulked around, trying to dash unseen down the back to his toilet, head down, showing his thinning hair which I used to think was covered in plaster, but maybe he's just going grey.

I'm glad our back door isn't at the side like his is, where we can see him from our kitchen windows when he goes outside.


Daughter: You know, he doesn't have a bathroom at the moment, or a proper toilet. Just the outside one up next to the back fence. I heard him tell a girlfriend one night ... "I don't have a bathroom or a toilet. I just have what you can see."

I think some girlfriends don't like using the toilet down the back. That must be why some nights we see one drunken girlfriend down the side of the house, her white buttocks teetering unsteadily over a bucket.

After a noisy party there one night Alpha said he had seen naked women pissing around all over the place outside.

You know, when I first came to this house, a year before you did, the man next door seemed very nice, and he was bright eyed and enthusiastic, delighted to have bought his house, and full of ideas about doing it up.

But after a little while it began to seem that he had lost his way and that he didn't know what he was doing, so all he could do was to demolish things.


Mother: With the amount of rubble and bricks and timber that have gone out of his house you wonder what can be left inside. Now you can see that he's removing the upstairs ceiling. You wonder why he removed some windows upstairs.

Do you think he really is a builder? One day he spoke to me over the side fence, saying that he is a builder and that's why he was sometimes away during the week. He said he was doing building jobs in the country and that he was about to start a very difficult job that no one else could tackle. So he would be away a lot more. It's funny, but he was only away for a couple of days, and now he doesn't seem to go away at all. His vehicle seems to always be out in the street. Apart from all the banging, and all the removal of timber from inside his house, I've seen little evidence of building going on next door. Just one tiny window installed upstairs at the back of the house. Maybe he's going to put the bathroom there.


Daughter: You know, I think his problem is that he's a perfectionist and he can't bring himself to tackle the jobs that need to be done. He wants to do them properly and he is nearly always too drunk or hungover to be able to get started. I saw him through the kitchen window one day doing a really good job of washing his frying pan and cooking utensils. He really worked hard on making them perfectly clean before putting them away. And one day he was making chips, peeling the potatoes, then diligently chopping them up, concentrating on making the slices perfectly even.


Mother: Yet his house is a complete mess.


Daughter: That doesn't stop him from inviting people home to party after the pub closes at night.


Mother: Did the party he had last night keep you awake?


Daughter: Yes, especially when he started to play drums at 1 am.


Mother: It's the loud mouthed drunken women who annoy me the most. And he leaves the back door open so you can't help hearing all the talking and shouting and music.


Daughter: You know, after I finally got off to sleep this morning I dreamt that I was in next door, partying too, and dancing. I dreamt that there were some nice young men there. It's not the first time I've dreamt that I was in next door. In my dreams our house and his house are connected.


(To be continued.)