Mary Jones bristles. There is the noise again. Very definitely coming from the house next door. Swish! Crack! Swish! Crack!
Her lips purse and her face scowls as she addresses her husband Dave who is trying to read the evening newspaper.
Swish! Crack! Swish! Crack! ‘There it goes again. It must be 7.30.’ She looks at the carriage clock on the mantlepiece to confirm the time. ‘Yes, on the dot. You could set that clock to her.’
Swish! Crack! Swish! Crack! ‘These walls are thin. We can hear her; doesn’t she know that?’
Dave deliberately turns the page of his newspaper pretending to concentrate on the football reports. A startled yelp – definitely from a man – carries from next door. Dave slouches further down in his armchair before turning another page.
‘What’s that?’ Mary crosses the room to put her ear close to the wall. ‘Ha! Like I don’t know. No shame some people.’ The yelps become more intense. ‘He’s suffering all right.’
‘Night after night. After night. You wouldn’t believe it, not to look at her. Must be fifty if she’s a day.
‘How does she do it? How does she get away with it? How do people know where to come?
‘There must be a law against it. Must be. There’s a law against most things.’
Swish! Crack! ‘Jesus,’ Dave folds his newspaper and throws it down on the coffee table. ‘Night after night. I can’t take much more of it. I’m off upstairs to take a cold shower.’
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 