Writing for Fun
November 2018
The Pulse - Pete Norman
He was such a lovely man, a gentle man – a quality so rare in today’s society. Without him her life would have been so much more difficult.
The day she had moved into the flat had been most traumatic. The ‘Man with a Van’ she had hired had been the most surly individual she had ever met; he had grumbled constantly about the amount of stuff she was moving, the weight of the boxes and, most especially, the narrow staircase he had to carry them up. He had grumbled about the rain, which had not only soaked him but every box and every single piece of her furniture.
When he had finally taken the money and left she found herself alone and miserable in the flat, sitting on the only chair she could actually reach, wondering whether his muddy bootprints would ever come out of the beige carpet and wondering if she would ever find the box in which she had packed the kettle. At her feet her sat Willem, soggy and whimpering.
The tap on the door was soft and polite but she thought that if that man had come back to moan about one more thing then he was going to get an earbashing. She stormed downstairs and wrenched the door open. Her mouth was opening to say, ‘What now?’ but the sight of the man standing in her doorway stopped her before she was able to voice the words.
He must have been at least 90 – at least as old as her granddad. His smile was warm and inviting; his hair was pure white and neatly combed into a side parting. He wore a faded brown suit and a blue tie marked with a distinctive ‘old school’ pattern. He stood erect, which she later thought was a peculiar thing for her to notice as a first impression but what with that old world formality and the unusual tie it was clear to her that he came from a military background.
He handed her an envelope. Inside was a card depicting a tortoiseshell kitten welcoming her to her new home.
‘Hello, I’m George,’ he announced, pointing to the card. ‘I do hope you like cats.’
Padding down the stairs behind her came a small, white, fluffy dog.
‘Oh, dear, oh dear me and to think I nearly got you a dog one.’ With a great deal of effort he bent down and stroked the bedraggled creature, who wagged his tail furiously.
Annabelle laughed. ‘George, this is Willem. Willem, this is George.’
George eased himself upright again with a soft moan. ‘I do hope you will both be very happy here, my dear. You will find that I do not make much noise, you will not even know that I am here, er . . .’
She sensed the query in the pause. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m Annabelle and thank you so much for the warm welcome.’
George turned towards his own door. ‘If there is ever anything you need, my dear, just knock. I seldom go out these days.’
Back in her own flat Annabelle found a temporarily flat surface on which to display the card and then began to search for the kettle. What a lovely man. She had been dreading what her downstairs neighbours were going to be like: She had had nightmares of a family with screaming kids; or a teenager with a love of heavy metal or even someone learning to play the saxophone . . . but with George she had really fallen on her feet – she knew that he would not disturb her and she would try her utmost not to disturb him.
By Monday morning she had managed to unpack most of the boxes and the flat was beginning to look almost straight. They had both had their breakfast and she had carefully fitted out the cage in the kitchen with a soft blanket, a non-tip water bowl, a tub of biscuits and every toy he possessed, which left the remaining space a little cramped even for a small dog. Nevertheless she gave Willem a cuddle and then set him inside and closed the door. He gave her an accusing look. She hoped that he would happy while she went off to work but she had little choice. She had tried him out in the cage before the move and he had appeared to settle quite naturally into it. Besides, he slept most of the day anyway, so there shouldn’t be any problem.
That evening she could hear Willem barking as she walked up the path. She turned the key in the street door and stepped into the hallway. As she was fumbling for her own key the other door opened.
‘Back from work, my dear?’
The question had been perfectly polite and she could detect no hint of accusation in it but from the persistence of the sound coming from her own flat she knew that things had not gone as well as she had planned.
‘I’m so sorry about Willem, has he been barking for long?’
‘I am afraid I think he has been a little bit lonely up there all by himself.’
‘Oh, God, has he been barking all day?’
George smiled. ‘Tell you what, why don’t you leave him with me tomorrow, perhaps we can be company for each other.’
Annabelle apologised profusely and told him that would be far too much trouble but he dismissed her words with a wave of his hand. ‘We shall be fine, just you see.’
Willem had settled into the routine with ease, in fact he was becoming most reluctant to leave his new found friend and return to his old life upstairs.
One day when she returned from work she could see George on the pavement ahead of her. He was walking in his usual erect manner, wearing a gaberdine trench coat and a grey trilby hat which all seemed a little out of place with the small scruffy dog trotting along happily on his lead beside him.
On that day George had invited her in. He made a perfect cup of tea and to accompany it he brought out some custard creams on a flower-patterned plate covered with a paper doily. His flat was as immaculate as his personal appearance, clean and tidy but with the Spartan appearance of a man living on his own. There was a black and white photograph in the centre of the mantelpiece of a couple on their wedding day, with him resplendent in army uniform. Beside it, in an ornate silver frame, was another showing the smiling face of a more recent version of that same lady. There were a couple of others as well but Annabelle realised sadly that there were no pictures of children or grandchildren.
George chatted away about their day and how he was so happy to have Willem as company. Annabelle looked down at her dog, curled up comfortably with his eyes closed at George’s feet instead of her own and she felt a pang of jealousy but she quickly dismissed this as she realised just how difficult her life would be without the kind help of this gentle man.
It had seemed such an idyllic life but all of this came crashing down around her one cold February morning. She had crept out of bed and drawn back the curtains and the sight that greeted her stopped her in her tracks. In the roadway outside the doors to the ambulance were open and the paramedics were busy loading a stretcher into the back. She tugged on a t shirt and a pair of jeans and bolted downstairs but to her horror as she opened the front door the ambulance was just pulling away from the kerb and driving off.
Her first thought was to telephone the hospital but she realised that in all this time she had never once asked him his last name. Undeterred she grabbed her coat and then drove up to the hospital. The A & E was eerily quiet and the lady behind the desk was most unhelpful. No, they had not had an ambulance intake for a couple of hours and certainly she had not admitted anyone of that description.
With no other alternative Annabelle returned home and as the days passed her life slowly returned to normal but when a ‘To Let’ sign appeared beside the front gate her worst fears were realised.
Some days later she returned from work as usual and could hear Willem barking, as usual. She took him for his evening constitutional, as usual and then made a coffee and collapsed in her chair with the dog curled up in her lap, happy for some company at last. How quickly life could change, she thought. She wondered how George was faring wherever he had been taken but an uncomfortable part of her guessed that in all likelihood the poor old man was not faring anything any more.
She finished her coffee and went through to the kitchen to feed Willem and then she heard it – thump, thump, thump. It was not terribly loud but the sound was insistent, like the pulse of some primeval beast. It was coming from downstairs and she suddenly realised what had struck her as strange when she first arrived home – the curtains were open downstairs. The new neighbour must have moved in while she had been at work.
She fed the dog and started to prepare her own dinner but the pulsing thump continued unabated. It was beginning to irritate her. She could hear the faint sound of music in the background and she realised exactly what it was – her ex-boyfriend had had a sound system with a sub-woofer which thumped out the base note disproportionately to the rest of the music. Even over the sound of the microwave oven she could still hear the pulse. This was the end of her peaceful existence, this was the start of things to come and it was beginning to irritate her more and more.
She made her way back into the lounge but in here the sound was unbelievably even louder. She flipped. She dragged on a pair of shoes and stormed downstairs where she hammered on the door. After a few moments the door opened. Her mouth was opening to say, ‘Can you turn that racket down?!’ but the sight of the man standing in the doorway stopped her before she was able to voice the words.
He was the double of Keanu Reeves but without the iconic long black leather coat – in fact the man was without just about everything else apart from a pair of grey jogging bottoms and a perspiring torso.
‘I’m . . . er . . . I’m . . . Welcome to your new home. I live upstairs.’ She held out her hand. He shook it but did not release it immediately. In that moment she suddenly realised that she could still hear the music coming from the lounge but the pulse was no longer there. Her initial assumption had obviously been incorrect.
‘I’m sorry, was the music too loud for you? I can turn it down if you want.’
Annabelle shook her head. ‘No, the music’s not too loud, it was the loud thumping noise, I thought it was a sub-woofer.’
‘I wish – it’s only my mobile playing through a tiny little speaker but . . .’ He beckoned her through into the lounge; an impressive looking home gym stood in the corner. He lifted up the bar and let it fall back again. It made a loud thumping noise. ‘It must have been this you heard. I’m so sorry. In future I’ll make sure I only use it while you are out.’ He suddenly appeared to realise that he was almost naked. ‘Look, if you want to give me a moment to get dressed I could perhaps make you a coffee?’
Annabelle shook her head. ‘My dinner’s on the stove, it’s probably done by now. Can I take a rain check?’
As she left the flat she turned. She tipped her head to one side and smiled. ‘I don’t suppose you like dogs?’