Downshire is a relatively small English county
but like a pocket battleship it packs a lot in, a short but beautiful coastline,
a channel port, the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy
ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling
hills of the Downshire Downs, the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and farm land as
far as the eye can see from the Trotwood’s and the Grace’s in the south to the
home of the Downshire Light infantry, Nettlefield, and their affluent neighbour’s,
Roespring and Tipton in the north but our story takes place in Brassington, a
large sprawling village nestled in the wooded hills on the southern edge of the
Dancingdean Forest in the south east corner of Downshire.
It was Gemma Morris’s
29th birthday and she was being picked up by her sister Charlotte as they were
going into the village for lunch at The Timberman.
As she walked along
the path from White Rose Cottage down to her sister’s waiting car, a couple
were just leaving the house next door, a busty redhead of about her own age and
a taller gaunt looking man with starey eyes, she hadn’t met them before, but
she understood they were brother and sister, the Moors, so she smiled and said
“Good morning”
Well, she couldn’t
believe that two such innocuous words could have the effect of lighting the
blue touch paper, but that was exactly what happened because the man virtually exploded
and launch an array of expletives the like of which she’d never heard before in
her life.
And the apparent
provocation for the verbal assault was the fact that Charlotte had stopped her
car with the front wheel over hanging the Moor’s drive.
The busty redhead tried
her best to calm him down, but Gemma sensibly didn’t react and ignored him, and
opened the car door.
“Hi Charlotte” she
said
“I think I’ve just met
the new neighbours”
“Yes” she said still
smiling “he’s a colourful character”
“Well, his language
certainly is” Gemma said and then added “She’s nice though”
When she returned home
after having had a very pleasant lunch with Charlotte, she was dropped off
about 90 minutes after the incident and there was no further confrontation with
the neighbours on that occasion as she walked along the path, though she did
notice the curtain twitch, so Gemma turned and smiled.
She was relieved that
there was no repeat of the unprovoked verbal abuse by the neighbour, so she
went in the house and closed the door.
Gemma was indoors for
about forty minutes and as she left the house, she saw the angry neighbour’s
redheaded sister walking towards her.
Despite her smiley
response to the initial assault she was actually quite hurt about being called
vile names, but it was being called a fat arsed dumb bimbo which hurt the most,
and being called a “woman” driver when she wasn’t even driving, she’d never
thought of herself as a dumb bimbo, or fat arsed, in fact she was a smart
cookie and her arse was widely regarded as pert, and she was an advanced
driver.
She was a bit angrier
now the insults had sunk in, and she was up for a fight, so she braced herself.
“I’m sorry about earlier”
Joanne Moor said completely disarming her.
“My brother Clinton is
bi-polar, and it makes him a bit unpredictable”
“Where is he now?” she
asked
“He’s gone home” she
replied
“Come in for a coffee,
by way of an apology, I’ve just unpacked the best China”
Although she was short
of time, she was going to politely decline her offer but then decided to accept
because she had something on her mind, so instead she replied.
“That would be nice,
thank you”
It was getting dark by
the time she returned home, and she was feeling very satisfied indeed at the
way good neighbourly relations had been established, however it wasn’t the best
China she had been drinking from all afternoon.
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