Everybody Needs Good Neighbours

On a Monday afternoon in March 2010, a young English woman called Ally was on her way home from work to the affluent Perth suburb she and her husband had been renting in for just over six months. It had been a stressful day, beginning with a car that took forever to start, only to make it to work and find herself in meetings that took forever to end. Having spent most of Sunday night fretting and planning her way out from under a mountain of work, Ally left the office feeling even more weighed down.

Stopped at a set of lights, she noticed her grip on the wheel was tight and that she was hunched forward. The self-awareness of her agitation increased it. She looked in the rear-view mirror and saw a tension in her jaw and forehead, and an intensity in her eyes that troubled her. She also saw the thick sheet of dark, ominous cloud that had been following her home had caught up with her. Looking out the front and side of the car, she realised it had also overtaken her and now consumed the skyline.

The gigantic mass of cloud, after minimal introductory pitter patter, soon began to unload. Blustering winds hurled rain into her windscreen. Everything became instantly darker.

When she eventually reached her street, Ally remembered how, not long after first moving in there, she would turn into it and look up with a sense of childlike wonder at the in-bloom jacarandas lining each side, their branches pruned to meet in an arch and form a tunnel with a violet ceiling that, in its abundance, let the slightest breeze dislodge trumpeted petals to fall and coat the road, grass, pavements, and the parked cars. Today, the branches, without petals but half-filled with greenery, bowed and swayed under the pressure of the storm, mirroring a turbulence Ally felt within herself.

As she made her way uphill, the rumble from somewhere toward the back of her car, which she had paid a considerable sum for, added to her stress. A mechanic had told her a week earlier the cost of fixing the issue, which was a lot, and the cost of leaving it unfixed, which was a lot more. She wondered how she had persuaded herself to spend so much on a car with so little investigation. The inescapable simplicity of the cause, which was finding herself surrounded by wealth and wanting to ‘keep up with The Jones’s’, made her feel ridiculous. Ally told herself she deserved to lose a lot of money on it.

When she’d parked up on the street, Ally sat in the car a while, resignation gathering in her as she prepared for the drenching on the walk down the long steep drive to her home, the last in a row of four. Eventually, she embraced the inevitable.

‘Evening, love,’ Ally heard soon after she closed her front door and took off her wet shoes and coat. ‘Can you remember the last time we had proper rain?’ she was then asked, correctly discerning her husband’s voice was coming from the dining room. ‘Should be good for the course,’ he quickly followed, coming into the living room to see that Ally, who was soaked, didn’t share his enthusiasm. ‘You Okay?’ he asked, concerned by the look of abject defeat in his wife.

‘Do I look Okay, Ben?’ Ally angrily replied. ‘Would it kill you to park on the street for once, so I could use the carport?’ she then asked.

Ben knew that Ally knew she’d told him to use their covered parking spot at the side of the house, as their driveway was narrow and steep, with poor visibility at the entrance, and she hated reversing in or out of it. He also knew the amount of stress his wife had been under recently, and so he just apologised and told her he’d park on the street whenever she wanted.

‘No. I’m sorry,’ Ally replied, putting her head in her hands then brushing back her wet hair from her face. After a deep sigh, she looked up plaintively and told Ben, ‘I don’t want to be like this.’

Ben remembered frequently coming home from his days getting soaked working on a golf course in England, where, though the course was prestigious, the pay was bad and the people he worked for were worse. He would complain about the futility of it all to a sympathetic wife. He also remembered the first time she floated the idea of emigration, his instinctive cynicism toward it, and how tireless Ally had been in her optimistic efforts to bring him around. When they found it was possible to get over through Ben gaining skilled-work sponsorship, he hesitated again, telling Ally he would hate it if they got there, she loved the place, and he ended up tied to another job he didn’t like and ruined her enjoyment with his complaining. Ally confidently told him she would be fine coming back if things didn’t work out.

Though the decision was largely made for him, it turned out to be the best decision of Ben’s life. He’d never thought it possible to enjoy a job as much as he now did, or life in general. Even after several months, he would still randomly stop in his duties at times, look up at the bright clear sky, then down at kangaroos lounging in the shade of shedding gum trees, staring at him incredulously, and he would laugh at the absurdly positive turnaround in his life.

After enjoying three weeks in holiday mode and falling in love with the beautiful city she wished she could someday call home, Ally found herself a job at a small family run business. Things started off great. On seeing Ally’s talents and her eagerness to please, though, the owners soon sought to exploit her. Their initial laidback encouraging vibe smoothly transitioned, through the incremental application of negging and guilt trips, to overbearing, demanding and demeaning. The turnabout was so unexpected. It affected Ally deeply. No stranger to hard work or stressful environments, she nonetheless found herself constantly overrun and second-guessing everything. As the stress increased, an unshakable feeling of guilt accompanied it, while she wondered how she could be living in such a nice place and yet be so unhappy. Feeling like she was too miserable to deserve friends, she became withdrawn.

Ben, having to watch the joy gradually drain from the person responsible for his positive turnabout, felt all his attempts to repay her efforts so far were insufficient. And so, meeting Ally’s disheartened look with all the reassurance at his disposal, he answered, ‘I don’t want you to be like this either.’

‘I’m sorry. I know I make things boring for you,’ Ally replied.

‘You know that’s not true,’ Ben responded decisively, placing a hand on each of Ally’s sagging shoulders. ‘Everything I enjoy here is down to you. The least I can do, is help you back to being your cheery self,’ he went on, then told Ally to get everything off her chest, and listened patiently through her intermittent bouts of tears until she had.

Ben tried to make Ally see that the demands her employers were putting on her were unreasonable and that, even with having to take a loss on her car and buying a new one, they could make it by for a while on savings while she looked for something else. She first replied that it felt unfair to Ben, who had committed himself to a job in order to get them over in the first place. Ben told her that he had never been happier at work and that there was no reason whatsoever Ally should feel obliged to stick with a job she hated. As Ally went about voicing her next objection, which was essentially her pride revolting at the feeling of having been defeated in some way, she stopped mid-sentence. They had both heard what sounded like stones being thrown against their garden fence, the back door, and ricocheting off at least one plant pot.

‘Stay here. I’ll go check it out,’ Ben told Ally who, already on edge, looked shook. Before Ben took a step, they heard another pelting. This time the front drive and the roof took a hit as well. After a brief pause and another quick peppering, they nervously looked out the front window and looked on in disbelief as chunks of ice – some seemingly as big as golf balls - replaced the rain. Barely a word was spoken between the couple as the hail continued to hammer down for what felt like forever, sounding at times as though determined to crash through the roof. They just kept looking outside and then at one another, their looks of shock mirrored, occasionally accompanied with a shaking of the head and various declarations affirming they had never seen or heard anything like it.

When the hail eventually stopped falling, they waited a few minutes in silence, anticipating a new bombardment. It didn’t come. They toured the house, beginning with the assumption that the only reason they heard no windows smash was because the noise of the storm had overpowered it. They could barely believe it when they found all windows intact.

Looking down on the back garden from their bedroom, they saw branches, leaves and chunks of ice all about the grass, and many petals and snapped stems scattered across the flower beds. A ceramic plant pot had been split, leaving a small pile of soil topped with chunks of ice and wilted kangaroo paw standing gloomily in it.

‘Nowhere near as bad as expected. Can have that sorted after work tomorrow,’ Ben told his wife, in as reassuring a voice as he could muster.

‘The car!’ Ally suddenly blurted out.

When they made it up to the street, they looked up and down it with open but silent mouths. Branches lay all across the road, pavement, and on the roofs of cars, several with smashed windows and windscreens, and many with dents all over them. The sky, now uncovered by the departing of the mass of cloud, was a blend of deep colours, seemingly blushing in embarrassment at the mess it looked down on.

Ally’s car had no broken windows; the roof, bonnet, and boot though, looked as if they had been machine-gunned from a helicopter. She heaved a massive sigh and put her head in her hands. Ben put his arm around her shoulder. Straightaway they heard, ‘Check this shit out, Buddy!’ followed by barking. The couple recognised the voice and the bark from having heard them in the garden on the other side of their fence many times. They turned to see a lively young woman, wearing Ugg boots, short shorts, a hoodie and a beanie, one hand restraining a lead with a fidgety kelpie attached to it and another on her hips, scanning the street in disbelief. When her eyes met Ally and Ben, she gave them a nod and said, ‘How crazy was all that?’

‘Very. We’ve only been here nine months. Seen some bad storms back home, but nothing like this. Good to know I wasn’t overreacting,’ Ally answered almost apologetically.

‘Lived here my whole life. Never seen anything like it. Scared me shitless,’ the young woman replied with a neighbourly smile full of encouragement. ‘Been through two pairs of undies,’ she added, coaxing a laugh from Ally and Ben. She then looked over at Ally’s car. ‘Spewin’, I didn’t think to reverse my piece of shit car out the carport. Would have been nice to claim the insurance,’ she went on.

‘Do you think they’ll pay out?’ Ally asked in surprise, a measure of hope finding its way into her voice.

Her neighbour looked up and down the street. ‘They will if they know what’s good for them,’ she answered. ‘Alright, matey,’ she then said to her increasingly fidgety kelpie. ‘Best get him on the move. He needs a good run around in the park. Poor little bloke was all pent up and scared,’ she told the couple. ‘Kerry, by the way,’ she added.

‘Ally, and my husband, Ben,’ Ally answered enthusiastically, for there was something about Kerry that she instinctively found endearing.

‘See you about,’ Kerry replied with reciprocal enthusiasm, then went on her way.

Ally and Ben picked a few of the larger fallen branches from out of the road then headed back inside. Still reeling from the shock of the storm, Ally asked if they could continue their discussion the following night.

‘Of course. As soon as I get home from work tomorrow, I’ll sort the back yard. Then we can take as much time as we need to figure things out,’ Ben answered.

Ally headed upstairs for a hot shower, eventually returning in her dressing gown. The pair then settled down on the sofa for a cosy night.

When Ben made his way up his street on the way home from work the following afternoon, though he’d already driven past car lots filled with write-offs, he still had to shake his head in disbelief at all the damage to the cars lining his street. What he and everyone else he’d spoken to that day about the storm found more unbelievable, was that it passed by without claiming a life.

On entering the house, he almost immediately heard, ‘How was your day, babe?’ cheerfully called to him from the dining room.

‘Absolutely mental. Taking care of the garden will be a breeze after all that,’ Ben answered. ‘How you feeling today?’ he followed as he stepped into view of his wife.

‘Feeling great,’ Ally, sitting at the table opposite Kerry, answered with a beaming smile, lifting a cup of tea to her lips.

‘And your garden’s already sorted, guvnor,’ Kerry added, with a wink and a hearty raising of her cup.

Ben smiled and thanked them both.

Ally then explained that her office windows and reception area had taken a battering, and so, much to the owner’s chagrin, the staff had all been given the day off. After phoning the car insurance and finding out that Kerry was right, and that she would be getting back close to what she had paid for her car, she used the added boost of positivity to get outside and do some tidying in the garden.

Before she got far, she heard Kerry - also gifted a day off - telling Buddy her reservations about getting up a short ladder with no one to support it. Ally called around and leant her neighbour a hand. Kerry returned the favour. Proud of their efforts, the pair went for a walk along the river afterwards with Buddy. ‘We grabbed some lovely takeaway on the walk back,’ Ally finished.

‘There’s none left though, sorry. We worked up an appetite in the gardens and on the stroll,’ Kerry followed on.

‘No worries,’ Ben answered. He looked at Ally, the light sparkling in her eyes again, and communicated with a simple smile, how happy he was to see it. He sensed the energy in the room and was sure the pair still had plenty left to talk about. He wanted to leave them to it. Addressing Ally, he said, ‘A few workmates stopped in at the pub. I told them I was duty-bound here. Now I’m not needed, is it OK if I join them for a couple? Will get myself a feed, too.’

‘What do you think?’ Ally asked Kerry playfully.

‘He does look like he’s earned a beer or two,’ Kerry answered in the same vein.

‘Make sure you’re back by seven,’ Ally told Ben, the arbitrary deadline invented for a display of spousal repartee.

‘I’ll have one for my hard work and one each for both of yours,’ Ben replied accordingly. ‘Hope to see you again soon,’ he then told Kerry, before heading back out.

Three beers and one chicken parmi later, Ben came home to a happy wife. He asked if she wanted to carry on the talk from the night before. She told him there was no need.

Ben sat quietly and cheerfully as Ally, her face brimming with enthusiasm, proceeded to recount her day with Kerry, who she claimed was easily one of the funniest and nicest people she’d ever met.

‘Oh. How did I forget? Finally saw a dolphin in the river. Saw a few, actually,’ Ally interjected on herself. ‘Such a cool sight, isn’t it?’ she asked Ben, who had a knack for seeing them whenever Ally wasn’t with him. Ben agreed it was a cool sight.

The highlight of Ally’s Day, though, came when discussing work. Kerry told her that her complaints regarding her job were valid and, most importantly, that she wasn’t just being a whingeing pom. This relief turned to optimism as Kerry went on to say she worked as a Recruitment Officer and asked Ally if she could take a look at her resume. Kerry’s response after reading it, was to ask why someone with such an impressive resume was working in the job Ally currently had. ‘We’ll have you somewhere you belong before you know it,’ she assured Ally before she could answer.

As Ally began telling Ben that she and Kerry had very similar taste in music, and that they had arranged to go to an indie bar at the weekend to see some live performances, she noticed the big grin on her husband’s face and cut herself off. ‘Am I going on a bit?’ she asked.

Ben, leaving the grin as it was, shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m being overly keen and a weirdo,’ Ally then said. Ben disagreed. ‘I really think I’ve started a long friendship today though,’ Ally finished, with excitement only slightly effected by apprehension.

‘I think you’re right,’ her husband answered reassuringly.

They were both right. The progress of the friendship belongs to stories for some other time.