Broken Trophies

Oh, I'm used to the rowing by now. The crashing, banging, shouting and screaming. I listen automatically, sub-consciously waiting for the thump that will tell me he's gone one step further than before. The thump of a defeated body slumping to the ground, via a wall. It never comes to that usually. But it does tonight.

"Help me!" 

Those two words that I suppose I've willed her to say on so many occasions now pervade my wall, pierce my ears and spring me into action. Before she can say it again, I am there, on her doorstep. The animal has left, adding drink driving to his list of tonights misdemeanours. I feel safe and courageous. I feel a womanly pride as I look down at my crumpled neighbour. How dare any man reduce a woman to this! She is sobbing as I sit her down on the dishevelled sofa. I don't say much, what is there to say? We know what to do next.

Within an hour the police arrive. I show them into the living room and they start their routine questioning. I'm filling in the gaps, you know, the ones where the abused says nothing about previous nights of horror. She looks at me and casts down her eyes. 
"You forget," I tell her, "I live right next door. I hear everything." 
The policeman doesn't stop scribbling. His female colleague looks a bit green.

"God, I'm sorry!" the young woman exclaims, struggling to her feet. Well, I didn't see that coming. The carpet is now covered in vomit, the police woman looks white (which is more alarming than the green) and her colleague looks startled, like a deer caught in headlights. My neighbour has barely noticed. "Um, look we'll get off and I'll send another officer to finish off taking your statements." Then they were gone, the police. I can't help but wonder how they will tackle the animal when they're clearly terrified of a 'techni-colour yawn'. Finding the rubber gloves, I attempt to clean it up. Though, to be fair, it makes little difference to the altered state of the room. 
"Thank you so much for doing this!" 
"It's fine. It's what neighbours do."
"Yeah but, well, after the summer, well, you know..."
"Oh that. It's forgotten. Honestly. You did it, I shouted at you and now it's over."
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it." And I mean it. Please, I think, don't bloody mention it again! 

*

It was hard to reconcile the woman in front of me with the one who wantonly ransacked my bin bags last summer. For almost a week she would wait for me to leave for work, walk around to my garden, untie the bags and start picking through my rubbish. I was flabbergasted, I still am! When I asked her what the hell she was doing? She replied, 

"I just want the trophies!" 

I told her they were all broken but she carried on lifting them out anyway. In the end I had to call the police. They didn't throw up in my house, by the way. They wouldn't have dared! 

*

I waited a while, the police returned, we finished our statements and the animal didn't come home. "Will you be okay?" I asked.
"Um, yeah, yeah. Thank you again. I can't tell you how grateful I am. Especially after..."
"Honestly, please don't mention it! I'll check in on you tomorrow." I hug her and plant a sisterhood kiss on her bruised cheek.
As I walked through the hall to the front door I couldn't help but notice the broken trophies, all in a line on a purpose built shelf. Suppressing a smile, I said, 
"Lock up behind me, won't you?"


©Lisa Lee 2013, sleeping in Elvegren Life