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John took out his anger on his pillow, punching it as his new neighbour reached a noisy climax through the wall. The apartments were supposed to have superior sound-proofing. John snorted at the thought: superior sound-proofing his arse.
“You’re such a good little slut, Blondie,” one of the neighbours gasped.
John pulled the edges of the pillow up around his ears in a desperate bid to drown them out. Although he had only moved in two weeks earlier he was now lamentably well informed about the bedroom habits of the couple next door and suspected that this would not be the end of the night’s activities for them. “Can’t you just fuck once every two months or something,” John muttered as he heard one of them giggling, “Or once a year, maybe. Once every two years.”
John didn’t hear any noise in any of the other rooms in the apartment. He couldn’t hear what anyone was watching on television in the sitting room or what music his neighbours liked. He almost wished he could. He felt that if the sound-proofing had to fail the bedroom was the worst possible place for it to do so.
“Actually the loo would probably be the worst,” Veronica said thoughtfully when John told her gloomily he’d suffered another sleepless night.
John gave a little shudder, “Maybe,” he conceded before adding crossly, “But I shouldn’t be able to hear anyone doing anything! The sales brochure specifically stated that the apartments would have excellent sound-proofing.”
“There’s a building attendant, isn’t there?” Veronica noted, “They might know who you could complain to.”
“I might try that,” John yawned, “I can’t keep on like this. I assume Blondie and Mr Muscles don’t work.”
*
The apartment complex had started life as some kind of factory building. It had been re-purposed and the efficient re-usage of the space had appealed to John.
There were car-parking spaces around the exterior of the building which curved around an inner court-yard of lush gardens. John had wholeheartedly approved of the design. The building looked merely functional, drab, even, to the outside world but it hid a soft interior which aimed to please.
The apartments all overlooked the secret world of the courtyard gardens. John had chosen his apartment and paid his deposit when the building was being renovated and he had paid extra for a little balcony. One of the attractions of the building had been the promise of good sound-proofing. John was of the opinion that the less he saw of his neighbours the better and he certainly didn’t want to hear them.
When he had first moved in he had been delighted to have finally escaped the avaricious clutches of his landlord. It had seemed almost too good to be true. With respect to the sound-proofing it clearly had been.
The apartment had smelled of fresh paint and a scent John associated with new wood and new carpets. The additional expenses had stretched John’s budget although he had obtained a good deal on the kitchen appliances by buying former display models or machines that were technically second hand but had actually never been used since they were too large for the space they were intended to slot into or they were rejected due to a small dent or some such defect.
“When’s your house-warming?” Veronica teased, “I’d like to see Blondie and Mr Muscles.”
“It’s not a house,” John muttered.
“Your hermit’s cave,” Veronica amended with a smile.
“I’m not a hermit,” John sighed, “I’d probably get more peace and quiet if I was.”
“You are a bit of a hermit,” Veronica told him. “You don’t even really deal with the clients in here. I do most of that. You’re more comfortable poring over their accounts then going home and spending time alone in your fancy new flat.”
“What’s wrong with that?” John objected feeling a bit stung, “I’m an accountant not an entertainer.”
“Nothing,” Veronica said softly, “But it is a bit hermit-like. Plus you’re only in your twenties. Don’t you ever want to go out and have fun?”
“I have fun,” John protested.
Veronica made a non-committal noise. Then her face brightened. “Maybe Blondie and Mr Muscles will have a house-warming and you can meet them that way.”
“I have no desire to meet them,” John spluttered, “I already know much more than I want to about them.”
“Promise me that if they invite you to a house-warming you’ll take me,” Veronica said sternly, “I want to meet them.”
*
John literally bumped into one of his neighbours as he exited his apartment the following morning. “Oh,” the startled man cried. He had been reading a book while clutching several others in an awkward grasp. The armful of books he was carrying crashed onto the floor, one of them painfully landing on John’s foot. “I’m so sorry,” the man apologised.
“It’s quite all right,” John lied, crouching to help pick up the books.
“I wasn’t looking where I was going I’m afraid,” the man noted, “I’m Brian,” he added, “I think we’re neighbours. I’m in number fourteen.”
“Yes,” John agreed politely, “I’m in thirteen.” He’d got it cheaper because people were ridiculously superstitious. The developers had debated whether to have a number thirteen apparently but someone had been more upset at the thought of missing a number than they had been superstitious which had worked in John’s favour.
John hesitated then asked, “I can hear the people on the other side of me, in number twelve. The sound-proofing...”
Brian didn’t give him time to finish his enquiry, “It’s not just you. I can hear the people in apartment fifteen through the kitchen wall although I can’t hear anything from your flat. I asked the building manager about it and he said the apartments were all very well sound-proofed and was I sure I wasn’t imagining it! However, I’ve discovered that several other residents are in the same boat as us. I’ve called a meeting about it in the recreation room this Thursday at seven-thirty. I do hope you can make it.”
John found himself agreeing to go along. He decided not to mention it to Veronica in case she decided she wanted to attend too in hope of a glimpse of Blondie and Mr Muscles. “Have you met any of our other neighbours?” he asked Brian. He had to admit he had mixed feelings about Blondie and Mr Muscles. Part of him never wanted to have to set eyes on them but part of him was curious.
Brian had met an astonishing number of people. John gathered he was the sort of person who greeted people and made polite small-talk with them. Plus he had evidently begun to ask everyone he encountered how their supposedly excellent sound-proofing was working out for them. He had not met Blondie or Mr Muscles from number twelve, however. “I think Freddie might know them though,” Brian told him thoughtfully, “Freddie seems to know everyone. He’s in number eleven which is one of the corner deluxe apartments. He must share a wall with number twelve too.”
John was torn between instant hatred of the unknown Freddie who knew everyone and could afford the deluxe corner apartment John had coveted when he had seen the building plans and curiosity about what Freddie could hear Blondie and Mr Muscles doing. That line of thought made him blush a little. He also felt slight jealousy that Freddie might have met Blondie and Mr Muscles.
He ended up telling Veronica everything at work despite his resolution not to. As he had feared she immediately said, “Ooh, can I come to the meeting?”
“It’s strictly for residents only,” John told her, sighing at the look she gave him. “Okay, fine, you can come although I think you’ll be disappointed: Blondie and Mr Muscles don’t strike me as people who assiduously attend residents meetings.”
“You might be surprised,” Veronica laughed, “They might be very public spirited. Besides, I can do the socialising while you skulk glaring at people.”
John thought this was a good point although he wasn’t about to let Veronica know that. “I am perfectly sociable,” he informed her.
Veronica snorted, “If you say so.”
“Yes, well, I’ve already said you can come with me.”
*
Veronica accompanied John home from work and had dinner with him before they went to the meeting. She enthusiastically admired the building and John’s apartment.
As they made their way downstairs to the meeting room she got chatting to an elderly lady who was going in the same direction. After some pleasantries the elderly lady unexpectedly asked, “Have you been gifted a plant yet?”
She seemed to sense their confusion because she smiled added, “I’m not losing my marbles. Lots of people have found plants in their apartments. It’s as if someone is breaking in and leaving the plants as a gift. I got a lovely Aspidistra. I think they’re quite hard to kill which is probably just as well.”
John thought it seemed an odd thing to hallucinate or have a delusion about but it also seemed highly unlikely that anyone was breaking in to people’s homes and leaving them houseplants.
However, as they neared the meeting room the corridor became more crowded and John heard a couple of people greeting each other. At first, as they all filed along the corridor he tuned out their conversation about the way they were decorating their apartments and how their families were and had their companion seen that article on the news about the spate of jewel robberies from celebrities but he became more alert when one of them said, “The strangest thing happened the other day. When we got up in the morning we found a little potted plant sitting next to the kettle on the kitchen counter.”
The other person said, “Oh, we received a plant too! Apparently loads of people have got them! Ours is a money plant according to my husband so I do hope it lives up to the name!”
So it seemed the little old lady had been correct and there was phantom plant giver. How did the plant leaver enter their properties? John assumed nothing had been taken otherwise surely they would have mentioned it? Where in the building were their apartments? Was the plant leaver targeting certain areas?
Why had he not received a plant?
He put it out of his mind as they reached the meeting room and found seats. A large number of people had turned up so it appeared most people had some kind of issue with the sound-proofing or lack of it.
*
Brian had managed to convince someone from the property development company to come along to hear their views on the sound-proofing and after several residents had made clear how unimpressed they were the man unhappily promised to investigate their claims. John queued with others to leave details of the issues he was having.
People were milling around and John was glad Veronica was there as she cheerfully chatted to people. He looked up and saw Brian approaching with another man with glossy dark hair. He greeted Brian and introduced Veronica who explained, “I’m just being nosey. I don’t actually live here. I’m a friend of John’s.”
Brian introduced his companion to them. “This is Freddie. He lives just along the corridor from you, John.”
“Ooh, in the corner apartment?” Veronica asked, “Is it very fabulous.”
“It is,” Freddie told her, “Would you like to see it?” He aimed a questioning look at Brian and John, “We could have drinks, perhaps.”
“That sounds lovely,” Veronica beamed.
*
So that was how John found himself in Freddie’s beautiful apartment. Freddie made cocktails and as it was a warm evening he opened the doors leading out onto a balcony. “Have you seen our divine mutual neighbour?” Freddie asked John.
“Divine?” John echoed, startled. “Do you mean the people in twelve?”
“I’ve only seen one person,” Freddie told him, “A sun God.”
John stepped out onto the balcony with his drink and looked over towards the adjoining balcony of their mutual neighbour in flat twelve. He was rewarded with a glimpse of a man bathed in the golden glow of the sun. He looked ablaze, a man on fire. Then he stepped forward to the little gap between the end of the privacy divider and the edge of the balcony and became a mere mortal again.
Well, a mortal, anyway. There was nothing mere about him. He was luscious with his wavy reddish gold hair framing his Botticelli face. His pretty face reminded John of Botticelli’s Venus. Perhaps he was not a mere mortal after all since John’s mind kept straying towards Roman goddesses or Greek gods. Freddie had evidently thought the same. John thought his description of their mutual neighbour as a sun God was very apt.
Blondie, John guessed rather than Mr Muscles.
“I’m Roger,” the God said. “Roger Taylor.” He extended his hand across the balcony wall and when John clasped it his skin was warm and dry, his grip firm but not crushing. He gave a good handshake.
“I’m John Deacon,” John was surprised by how normal he sounded. Meeting a God he had inadvertently heard being pleasured in bed was not a normal occurrence. A pleased to meet you hovered at the very back of John’s throat and remained unuttered. John was not sure exactly how he felt but pleased to meet Roger seemed wrong. He was, perhaps, overwhelmed to meet him. He might find Roger’s apparently effortless glamorous charm seductive. He was not pleased.
“I thought I’d seen you on the other side?” Roger puzzled, waving his hand towards John’s balcony.
“I live in number thirteen, yes,” John confirmed, “Freddie very kindly invited us for drinks after the residents meeting.”
John felt uncomfortable. He did not do small-talk. He avoided people for this very reason.
“Us?” Roger enquired.
“Brian from number fourteen who organised the meeting and my friend Veronica who came to the meeting with me,” John explained.
“Who are you chatting to out here?” Freddie suddenly appeared on the balcony, “Oh,” he added as he spied Roger, “Do come over for a drink, dear.”
*
Roger disappeared from the balcony and reappeared in Freddie’s tasteful sitting room. Introductions were made and Brian explained about the lack of sound-proofing in some areas of many of the apartments. “I haven’t heard you at all,” Roger noted to John, “Although maybe you’re just very quiet. Have you heard me?”
John flushed and bristled at Veronica’s evident amusement. “I have heard you occasionally,” he informed Roger.
“Ooh, is it the kitchen?” Roger asked, “I’m afraid I tend to sing while I’m cooking.”
“It’s the bedroom wall, actually,” John muttered, feeling his cheeks heat up.
Roger also flushed but they were saved by Brian who was admiring a plant. “Someone left a plant in my apartment too,” Brian was telling Freddie. “I got a wonderful Marble Queen. It’s perfect for the study. They don’t need much light apparently so it’ll be amazing in the darker corner on the shelf above the desk. I was thinking of getting a trailing plant for there anyway so the mystery plant giver has done me a favour.”
“What did you say mine was called, dear?” Freddie asks. “It’s the funniest thing. It’s one giant leaf. It’s very dramatic.”
“Yours is a Snake Plant Victoria,” Brian tells them, “They’re very hard to kill. They purify the air.”
“I’ve heard people mentioning this,” Roger said, “Maybe the mystery plant giver is working their way along our corridor and I’ll get my plant tonight,” Roger laughed.
John noted that Roger hadn’t been given a plant yet either. He sipped his beer and considered this. Perhaps Roger was correct and the mystery plant giver would target them soon.
Everyone compared notes on the people they had spoken to in the building that had said they had been given plants. It transpired that every plant recipient seemed to have been given a plant suited to either a particular room in their apartment or to their lifestyle or to their level of experience in caring for plants. Brian mentioned again that the plan he had been given by the mysterious person Freddie had started to call the Plant Fairy was well-suited to his study.
The Plant Fairy evidently carefully considered the plant they gave to each recipient. It appeared a great deal of thought was involved. Who would go to so much effort to make people fleetingly happy?
John wondered this out loud and Freddie said, “It isn’t fleeting though, is it? Every time I look at my plant I feel a little warm glow because someone did something nice. It spreads joy.”
“I suppose if you’re going to the effort of breaking in to people’s flats then you are taking quite a lot of trouble over the whole thing anyway,” Brian pointed out.
John frowned. “No one has any idea how the mystery plant giver gets into the flats, do they?” he asked.
“No one I know does,” Brian agreed.
“Do all the people who have received plants use the same cleaning firm or something?” Veronica wondered.
“Ooh, so the Plant Fairy would have access to keys?” Freddie nodded, “Good thinking.”
“I don’t use a cleaning company though,” Brian noted, “I like to clean the place myself.”
“Perhaps it’s the building superintendent,” Roger suggested, “Or whatever he’s called.”
“Do you mean that gloomy little man that lurks in that tiny office in the corner of the entrance hall all day?” Freddie frowned, “I can’t imagine him wanting to use his master keys to spread joy.”
“There are three attendants,” Brian informed them, “They are brothers though and they do look alike which is probably why you thought there was just one. They do shifts so there’s someone there round the clock. If it is one of them, though, they can’t be using their keys to enter the properties because I have a security chain on my door that was in place on the night my plant arrived. However the Plant Fairy is getting in it isn’t through the doors.”
“If one of them is in the entrance hall all night then the Plant Fairy can’t be waltzing into the building either,” Veronica noted, “Which would suggest it is another resident.”
“Or someone who has a key to the front door,” Brian pointed out, “Although you’d think the attendants would have noticed someone regularly entering with plants. I know they’ve been asked if they have seen anyone that might be the Plant Fairy. The property people are concerned about the security implications.”
“They should be, really,” John said, “If someone can apparently enter any flat that is concerning even if they are currently doing it to leave thoughtful gifts.”
Brian nodded, “There have been all those jewel robberies lately too,” he noted, “Not,” he laughed, “That anyone here is likely to have that level of wealth, but still.”
“What did the attendants say?” Roger asked, sipping his cocktail.
Brian shrugged, “They hadn’t seen anything unusual but,” he grinned, “They had received a plant, Devil’s Ivy.”
Veronica laughed, “I like the Plant Fairy. I hope they don’t get caught.”
*
Veronica had interrogated Roger about his life although she hadn’t learned all that much. He’d said he was self-employed and lucky enough to be in the position of being able to pick and choose jobs that interested him. He had been vague about what area he worked in. He lived alone but – he had glanced at John and blushed – he had a partner who stayed over sometimes. “Maurice,” he had told Veronica, “He’s a university lecturer.”
Freddie could apparently hear Roger singing in the kitchen. “I can’t hear you either,” Roger had told him. “Either you’re both very quiet or I should get my hearing checked!”
“John’s very quiet,” Veronica had said, ignoring John’s glare.
“Always the quiet ones,” Freddie had murmured barely audibly.
Veronica had left and thinking about it now, back in his flat sitting at the kitchen table with his hands curved around a mug of tea John realised that Roger had really told them very little about himself. He’d extracted information from them instead.
It was thanks to the conversational efforts of Veronica and Roger that John now knew Brian was a school teacher. “Maths,” he’d told them. He had a degree in physics and was a keen amateur astronomer. “That was one of the reasons I wanted a flat here,” he had explained, “There’s a little roof garden. It’s wonderful for star gazing although the light pollution is lamentable.”
“I didn’t know there was a roof garden,” Freddie had been delighted, “You must show me, dear and you can tell me all about the stars.”
Freddie was an interior designer which explained why his own apartment was so lovely. He was single he had informed them with a sigh. He’d been flirting with Brian, John had noticed. He wasn’t so sure Brian had noticed, however.
John sipped his tea and wondered what Maurice Muscles was like.
*
He found out the following Saturday when there was a knock on his door in the early afternoon. John peered through the spy-hole and saw a distorted version of Freddie on the other side of the door. He opened it and Freddie beamed at him. “I’m so glad you’re in, darling. I was wondering if you’d like to come to mine for dinner tonight. Are you free? I know it’s terribly short notice. It’ll just be me, Roger and Maurice and Brian. Bring Veronica if you like, if she’s available.”
“Uh...” John tried to think of an excuse. The part of him that was curious about meeting Maurice seemed to over-ride the anti-social side of his brain and he found himself saying, “That would be lovely. Um, I’m allergic to mushrooms, will that be a problem? What time?”
He called Veronica after Freddie had gone. “Oh bugger,” she said, “I’d love to see what Mr Muscles is like! I’ve got a date with Chrissie tonight though. You must try to remember every detail so you can tell me about him.”
When John nipped along the corridor to let Freddie know that Veronica couldn’t make it he was invited in for a cup of tea. The apartment was immaculate and there was no sign of any preparations for having guests to dinner. As if reading his mind Freddie said, “Unlike Brian I use the services of an excellent cleaning firm and you’ll be glad to know I have a wonderful catering company organizing the food for tonight.”
Freddie surveyed John over the rim of his tea-cup and asked softly, “Have you heard anything troubling from Roger’s flat?”
“Troubling,” John echoed, “Um...” His cheeks heated up as he considered what he had heard from Roger’s flat.
“Arguments,” Freddie said, “Shouting.”
“Oh,” John shook his head, “Nothing like that.” He frowned as he recalled Mr Muscles calling Blondie a slut. He sometimes felt uneasy at the way Mr Muscles spoke to Blondie. “There is sometimes name-calling,” he told Freddie, “Although I assume they both like it.”
Freddie studied him, “It bothers you.” It was not a question.
“I sometimes don’t like the way Maurice speaks to Roger,” John agreed, “He might like that though.” His cheeks flamed at the thought. “What have you heard?” he asked.
Freddie sighed, “Shouted put-downs. You’re a dumb blond. You’re a stupid slut. Things like that. It could be in jest, of course. It sounds quite aggressive though. Then a few days ago I heard what sounded like a physical scuffle. Of course it’s difficult to tell what is really happening when you’re on the other side of a wall.”
John frowned. “Is that why you’ve asked us all to dinner?” he wondered, “So you can meet Maurice?”
“Partly,” Freddie smiled, “And partly because I would like to get to know you all a bit better.”
“Particularly Brian,” John suggested.
Freddie laughed, “Am I so obvious?”
“Not to Brian, I think,” John grinned, “I’m not sure a subtle approach will work.”
“You may be right,” Freddie sighed, “I might have to spell it out for him.”
*
Maurice was tall and broad shouldered. John suspected his very expensive suit was hiding how muscular he was. He was enthusiastic about the gym in the basement that John had never visited. Roger beamed at him like a flower turning towards the sun, which was wrong really because Roger was a sun God and all the adulation should be flowing towards Roger himself.
Maurice seemed perfectly pleasant. He was polite and seemed interested in the views of others. John couldn’t fault him. He disliked him, though. He didn’t think Maurice’s smile reached his eyes. He thought he looked bored when he wasn’t aware of anyone’s eyes upon him. He had a tendency to mock what Roger said that irked John. John did not think Maurice was a kind person. Of course it could be jealousy. John found himself wishing Roger would look at him the way he gazed at Maurice.
Roger and Maurice were the first to leave. As Brian and John were helping Freddie load the dishwasher they were startled to clearly hear Maurice speaking to Roger through the wall. “I thought your place was nice but you’re clearly not in the same earning league as Freddie,” Maurice sneered, “Interior design must be more lucrative than being a high class whore.”
“What?” Roger sounded startled.
“I know you do something shady and let’s face it, there’s only one thing you’re any good at,” Maurice told him.
In Freddie’s kitchen they had all frozen in place. Brian was in the doorway holding plates. Freddie was standing in front of the dishwasher with a couple of wine glasses in his hand. John had been scraping a plate into the bin and had halted, startled, when he had heard the voices.
Roger gave a little snort of laughter although John did not think he was really amused. “I don’t know why you think what I do for a living is illegal,” he said.
Maurice and Roger must have moved away from the point where the soundproofing failed because the next words spoken were indistinct. As if a spell had been broken John, Freddie and Brian all proceeded with their tasks in silence. No one mentioned what they had overheard.
Later that night when John was in bed he could hear Maurice and Roger again through his bedroom wall. They seemed to be particularly energetic. Perhaps their relationship thrived on drama. Perhaps Roger liked being spoken to like that. There was no giggling tonight, however and John thought Maurice was telling Roger he was a slut and a whore in a more than usually aggressive way. That might be his imagination, however. That might be his jealousy talking.
If John was allowed to touch a sun God he would treat him with respect. Maybe Gods got tired of being respected though. Maybe a sun God wouldn’t want John. Presumably the sun God next door had fallen for charms Maurice had that weren’t immediately obvious to John.
*
John was busy at work in the following weeks and didn’t see his neighbours. He spent a few days at a conference in Manchester staying in the vast hotel the conference was being held in as if he was trapped in a blandly decorated monument to beige conformity. His own flat might be minimalist but he liked to think it had more character than the hotel.
When he wearily opened his own front door late on Friday night it was with a sense of relief. He went to make a cup of tea and halted, staring at the plant that was sitting on the kitchen counter.
The plant that definitely hadn’t been there when he had left for the conference.
He had been evidently given a plant by the Plant Fairy.
With a little flutter of excitement which he told himself sternly was ridiculous John moved closer to examine his plant which was in a glossy dark green pot. The first thing he noticed was that the leaves were an unusual mix of green and pink.
He checked that all the windows and the doors that led on to balcony were all closed and locked as he had left them. They were. How the Plant Fairy had got in to leave his plant was a mystery.
*
“Maybe they do actually have supernatural powers,” Veronica suggested on Monday. “What kind of plant did you get?”
“It’s called a Pink Princess Philodendron,” John told her, flushing slightly. He showed her a picture of it on his phone.
“Very pretty,” Veronica noted.
“They are quite rare, I think,” John told her feeling absurdly self-conscious. Over the weekend he had discovered that Pink Princess Philodendrons were rare and expensive. They were also reassuringly easy to care for. Perhaps the Plant Fairy grew plants. They had not necessarily bought him an expensive gift. Perhaps they brought the plants from Fairyland where they weren’t rare or expensive.
John’s cheeks reddened as he thought that if he had been giving someone a Pink Princess Philodendron it would have been Roger.
“Do you know if anyone else got a plant around the same time?” Veronica wondered.
“Roger did,” John told her. “I met him in the corridor on Saturday and we had coffee and he says that on Friday he found a plant on his dining table when he got up. His is called a Kalanchoe Marmorata Tiger and it has sort of speckled leaves. I suppose it does look a bit like the markings on a tiger.”
Veronica waved her hand as if brushing away the particulars of Roger’s plant. “You went for coffee?”
“He invited me in for coffee,” John admitted.
“Ooh, what is his place like?” Veronica asked.
“Colourful,” John grinned as he thought back to Roger’s cosy flat. “Lots of brightly coloured throws and cushions and the walls are different colours.” Roger’s flat had been like Roger, John thought: cheerful, vibrant and warm.
“I’d like to see it,” Veronica said.
“Well, he mentioned inviting people over for drinks although he didn’t mention a date. Maybe you could come if he actually does it.” John really hoped Roger would remember to ask people over although presumably that would include Maurice.
As if reading his mind, Veronica said, “Was Maurice there?”
John shook his head feeling a little bubble of happiness rise within him at the delicious memory of having had Roger all to himself. “No,” he was unable to completely keep the glee out of his voice, “Maurice is away for a couple of weeks apparently.”
“I wonder if Roger will invite people over while he’s away. He might if he’s feeling a bit lonely,” Veronica mused.
John told himself not to get his hopes up but he thought that was a delightful prospect.
*
There was no word of drinks, however and John did not see any of his neighbours for a few days. He was surprised to find he missed them. He supposed he could go and visit them but visiting people he didn’t already know well wasn’t something he customarily did and he only got as far as his front door before he decided to leave it for another day.
Time went by and John thought Maurice must be back from his trip now. He expected to be able to hear what was happening in Roger’s bedroom again but his sleep remained uninterrupted until one Friday evening when he could hear someone crying through the wall.
John got out of bed and stood indecisively. Should he knock on the wall and ask Roger if all was well? All clearly wasn’t well, though. Should he go and knock on Roger’s door? If Roger was upset he probably wouldn’t answer though.
He pulled on some clothes made sure he had his keys in his pocket and padded along the corridor to Roger’s door. He hesitated again then rang the doorbell.
He was just about to give up when he heard the security chain rattling and the door opened a crack. A bloodshot tear-filled blue eye peered out at him. “What’s wrong?” John asked gently. “Can I help?”
Roger whimpered then closed the door again. John frowned then realised Roger was taking the security chain off. When Roger re-opened the door again he flung himself into John’s arms and began to sob.
John awkwardly manoeuvred them into Roger’s flat and closed the door behind them. He rubbed Roger’s back and murmured, “There, there,” in what he hoped was a soothing manner.
Gradually Roger began to sniffle that he had gone to Maurice’s house to surprise him now that he was back from his trip. “I hadn’t heard from him,” he gulped, “Which was unusual.” A fresh flurry of sobbing prevented him from speaking for a moment, “Replaced,” he howled, “He was in bed with a...with a...with another man.”
“The bastard,” John growled. He was about to tell Roger that he had been much too good for Maurice anyway but stopped himself remembering the period of time when Veronica had split up with the same charmless fucker several times and John’s entirely justified bad-mouthing of him had proved awkward until Veronica had finally seen the light and made the break permanent. Hopefully Roger would not take Maurice back but John thought he better err on the side of caution.
“Bastard,” Roger agreed unhappily.
John made hot sweet tea for Roger with the vague idea that was what you offered to people who had received a shock. Roger curled both hands around the mug and sipped it slowly. “Thank you for checking on me,” he said, “I’m sorry to have disturbed your evening.”
“It was no trouble,” John assured him softly reflecting that he hadn’t been doing anything anyway and much preferred being with Roger although the circumstances weren’t ideal. He felt a slight guilt at his glee that Maurice was out of Roger’s life. Hopefully they wouldn’t get back together.
John left shortly after they had finished their tea taking the opportunity to give Roger another consoling hug at the door. “If you need to talk, even if it’s the middle of the night just let me know,” he offered softly.
“Thank you,” Roger said, “You’re really kind.”
*
The next morning Freddie arrived at John’s door at what John thought was an unusually early hour of the day for him. John invited him in and offered him coffee.
“Roger caught Maurice with another man,” Freddie got straight to the point, “The poor dear needs cheering up. I thought we could take him out for the day.”
“Does Roger want to go out?” John asked, “How do you know he’s split up with Maurice?”
“I heard him crying in the kitchen early this morning when I was getting a glass of water,” Freddie explained, “So I went over to see if I could help.”
John explained that he had heard Roger crying in the bedroom and had gone to see him the previous evening. “I must admit,” Freddie told him, “It may be awful of me but I’m glad they’ve split up. I really hope Maurice doesn’t worm his way back into Roger’s affections.”
“Where are you thinking of taking him?” John wondered.
“For some retail therapy,” Freddie told him. He eyed John’s jeans and jumper, “It’ll be good for you, too, dear.”
*
Roger seemed as unenthusiastic about the trip as John, although at least in John’s case he was looking forward to spending time with Roger. “I can’t go out like this,” he sniffed, indicating his bloodshot eyes and tangled hair.
“Nonsense, dear,” Freddie said briskly, adding, “We’ll spruce you up a little. You can’t sit around here moping.”
Roger had cast an injured look at John who had shrugged and had then sighed and agreed to his fate. John had to admit that once Roger had showered and dressed and slotted a pair of sunglasses on over his red eyes he looked in better shape than John.
John also had to admit that shopping with Freddie was fun. Encouraged by both Roger and Freddie he bought a new shirt and a new jacket. “I must have everyone round for drinks again,” Freddie remarked, “And you can wear those.”
Freddie insisted on buying them lunch, “My treat my dears.”
John sipped wine and luxuriated in his proximity to Roger. He felt a little stab of guilt as he recalled that they were there because Roger had a broken heart.
Roger seemed distracted by John’s mushroom allergy, however, as John discussed with their waiter what was safe for him to eat. “Do you have one of those stabby adrenaline thingys?” he asked once the waiter had departed.
John nodded, “I have an epi pen, yes.” He explained briefly to them how it worked and how they should use it on him in case of an emergency. “I’ve never actually needed it, though,” he reassured them.
As they ate Roger asked Freddie about his love life. “How are you getting on with Brian?”
Freddie sighed, “Progress is slow but I’m sure we’ll get there eventually. He’s going to show me the stars from the roof garden next week.”
When they returned home Roger invited them in for coffee, “It seems the least I can do since you’ve been looking after me all day.”
They sat around Roger’s kitchen table and sipped their coffee. “I haven’t heard of any new plants being distributed lately,” Freddie remarked.
“Perhaps the Plant Fairy has given a plant to everyone in the building just now,” John said.
“Maybe,” Roger agreed, “It certainly seems as if most of the people I’ve met have received a plant.”
“I do wonder how they get in,” John murmured.
“I expect it will remain a mystery,” Freddie shrugged, “Like why the sound-proofing seems to fail in some areas and not others which is still a mystery to the property developers.”
*
Brian came to John’s door on Tuesday evening, “Freddie’s coming to my place for dinner tomorrow. I’m trying out some recipes. Will you taste some for me and let me know which is best?”
John followed Brian to his flat and tasted some food. “I think the beetroot risotto,” he decided, “And the lemon tarts are gorgeous.”
Brian flushed, fiddling with a lock of his hair. “I want him to enjoy it,” he confessed shyly.
“If it’s any help then I think Freddie really likes you,” John told him, hoping this might help.
“Do you think so?” Brian asked.
“I’m absolutely certain of it,” John assured him, grinning as he returned to his flat.
*
On Thursday John found a note had been slipped through his letterbox inviting him for drinks at Freddie’s place on Friday evening. He wondered how he’d got on with Brian the previous evening. Were the drinks to cheer him up or to celebrate? He supposed he’d find out soon enough.
“You’re invited too,” John told Veronica at work.
“I’m seeing Chrissie again,” she told him.
“Chrissie’s nice,” John remarked, “I’m glad things are working out with you two.”
“We can go on some double dates once Roger has stopped moping around over Maurice and has realised you’re perfect for him,” Veronica suggested.
John blushed, “I think Roger’s a bit out of my league,” he mumbled. Roger was a sun God. Gods did not go out with mere mortals.
“Nonsense,” Veronica disagreed, “You two would be a match made in heaven.”
*
It quickly became apparent on Friday night that Freddie was celebrating. Roger admitted John to the apartment as Freddie was kissing Brian when he arrived. “I hope you’re happy being mainly in my company tonight,” Roger laughed, “I think our host is slightly preoccupied.”
John was ecstatic at the thought of being mainly in Roger’s company but settled for saying, “I’m glad they’ve finally got together.”
“It was about bloody time,” Roger grinned.
“Brian actually took the lead,” Freddie confided to John later in the evening.
“Thank you for letting me know Freddie liked me,” Brian murmured a little later still, “It gave me the confidence to do something about it.”
“I’m really happy for you both,” John told him truthfully. He still felt a little pang of loneliness though.
*
Brian brought round some little savoury tarts the following morning, “Just a little something to say thank you,” he told John. He was going to spend the day with Freddie, “We’re going to an art gallery,” Brian said.
“Have fun,” John told him. He was spending his Saturday morning cleaning the flat and thought he might treat himself to one of the savoury tarts at lunchtime.
He reminded himself that he was perfectly accustomed to spending time alone. He was not sure why he felt so restless at the moment, why he wanted company.
He had eaten all of the delicious little tart, not quite able to identify all the flavours in it when he started to wheeze and realised that it must have contained mushrooms. He thought his epi pen was in the pocket of one of his jackets and that was in the bedroom. He was crawling by the time he entered the bedroom, gasping for breath. “R...Rog...” he croaked. What were the chances Roger was going to be in his bedroom and hear him though. He flung a shoe towards the wall where the sound-proofing didn’t work although he doubted that would alert Roger to the fact that he was about to die even if Roger was by some miracle in the bedroom.
John was lying on the floor thinking that even if Roger had heard him he wouldn’t be able to get in. Why hadn’t he given someone a spare key?
“John?” Now he seemed to be hallucinating Roger’s concerned voice. “Shit. Um..”
John felt something stab into his leg just before everything went dark.
*
John opened one eye and hurriedly closed it again to block out the brightness that had assaulted him. “Back with us, I see, Mr Deacon,” a female voice he didn’t recognise said, “I’ll get a doctor.”
John tried to reply but could only groan. He tried to open his eye again and this time a person was blotting out some of the light. “I’m Doctor Irving,” a male voice told him, “You’re lucky to be alive,” the man continued in a slightly scolding tone.
John tried to ask what had happened. He had a vague memory of lying on the bedroom floor unable to breathe. The man seemed to understand his difficulty, “You had a severe allergic reaction,” he explained disapprovingly as if John had done this on purpose, “Luckily your neighbour,” his voice softened in apparent appreciation of John’s neighbour, “Was able to administer your emergency epinephrine in the nick of time and called an ambulance.”
John opened both eyes. “Neighbour,” he croaked. So Roger hadn’t been a hallucination.
“You’re very lucky he got to you in time,” the man told him. “You’re being given antihistamines and cortisone intravenously and we’ll keep you in for observation for the time being.”
John drifted off to sleep again after the doctor had left. The next time he awakened Freddie was peering anxiously at him, “John, dear,” he said, “You gave us such a fright.”
Brian appeared too, “I’m so sorry,” he said, “I had no idea you were allergic to mushrooms!”
John mumbled that it was okay but he wasn’t sure either of them heard him. “It’s such a good thing that Roggie had a key to your flat,” Freddie exclaimed. John frowned. He was absolutely certain Roger didn’t have a key to his flat, “And so lucky that he happened to be in the bedroom and could hear that you needed help.”
“The only time the lack of sound-proofing has been a good thing,” Brian nodded solemnly, “It was good that you’d shown him what to do if you went into anaphylactic shock too.”
John mumbled that it had all been very fortuitous. “Roger didn’t come with you?” he croaked.
Freddie and Brian exchanged glances. “He came with you to the hospital, dear,” Freddie informed him, “He was terribly upset. He wasn’t allowed to see you and then when they said that they were keeping you in he returned to get some toiletries and pyjamas and so on for you. The hospital already knew he wasn’t a relation so,” Freddie indicated Brian and then himself, “I’m afraid I’ve told them Brian’s your brother so we could get in to see you. I do hope you don’t mind? I thought you’d appreciate a friendly face. We called Veronica but she says she’s gone away for the weekend? She thought you wouldn’t mind the brother ruse. She sends her love.”
“That was very kind of you,” John told them a little tiredly. He realised he was wearing a hospital gown, “Did you say you brought pyjamas?”
They had brought a bag of supplies. John wondered about that. Freddie and Brian had not mentioned John’s door having been kicked in or anything of that sort. Freddie and Brian seemed to think Roger had entered his flat with the key he didn’t possess first to save John’s life and then later to pack a little hospital bag for John. It appeared Roger, like the Plant Fairy, could enter John’s flat without a key. He sighed as he glanced at the intravenous drip he was attached to and thought he might need medical help to swap the hospital gown for the cosy pyjamas.
*
Brian and Freddie arrived the next day to drive John home from hospital. “This is really kind of you,” John told them.
“It’s the least I could do,” Brian told him unhappily, “After almost killing you.”
“You had no way of knowing about my allergy,” John pointed out. “I should have told you when I sampled your cooking before. I usually do tell people but you’d said what the ingredients were in each of the dishes so I didn’t need to.”
“It was an accident,” Freddie said softly.
“No harm done,” John added.
John would have liked to get into his flat and go to bed but they entered with him and insisted on making tea and getting him something to eat. “No mushrooms, of course,” Brian said with forced cheer.
“I’m not hungry, honestly,” John protested but he knew they weren’t going to leave until he had accepted at least tea and probably toast too.
When they were sitting around the kitchen table with mugs of tea and a plate of toast there was a soft knock on the door. Brian went to answer it and returned with Roger who was partially obscured by a huge bunch of flowers. “How are you feeling?” Roger asked anxiously. He looked as if he hadn’t slept. John thought Roger might look marginally worse than he did which was saying something.
“Thank you for saving my life,” John said, getting up and giving Roger a big hug. He laid the flowers on the kitchen counter. “Come and have some tea and some toast.”
Roger made himself tea and nibbled on a slice of the toast. “How did you work out where the epi pen was?” John asked once Roger was settled at the table. This had been bothering him although not as much as how Roger had got into his flat, that, however, was as a topic he wanted to broach when he was alone with Roger.
“You’d had it in your jacket pocket when we were at the restaurant,” Roger explained, “So I thought I’d look there first. I’m so glad you told us how to use it while we were there otherwise I wouldn’t have had a clue.”
“You did wonderfully darling,” Freddie’s voice shook slightly, “I’m so proud of you.”
“You saved John’s life,” Brian stated in a slightly choked voice.
“Anyone would have done the same,” Roger mumbled, flushing.
John reflected that not everyone would have been able to do the same. How had Roger reached him? “I’ll never be able to thank you enough,” he told Roger.
“Just don’t do it again,” Roger gave a shaky little laugh, “I’m not sure my heart could stand it.”
*
John worked from home for a few days as he recuperated. He wondered when would be a good time to go and see Roger and ask about how he managed to enter flats without keys. Should he ask Roger that at all or should he just let it remain a mystery? Was Roger the Plant Fairy or had he simply figured out how the Plant Fairy was accessing people’s homes?
John still hadn’t decided whether to confront Roger or not when Roger arrived at his door bearing a bottle of vodka. John smiled, “I’m not sure the doctor ordered that but I won’t say no.”
Once they were sitting at John’s kitchen table with glasses of vodka and tonic Roger took a deep breath and said, “I expect you’re wondering how I got in to your flat?”
John nodded, “It had crossed my mind, yes.”
Roger sighed, “You know how this place used to be a factory?” John nodded. “Well, there are ducts...shafts...I’m not sure what the technical term is, all over the place. The property developers would have had to have them filled in to really sound-proof the place and I think they decided it was going to be too expensive so they just hoped they wouldn’t cause too much of a nuisance and left them in place. They’ve hidden the access hatches really well but they didn’t actually seal them so if you know where to get in to the warren of ducts or tunnels or whatever you want to call them from your own flat you can access any flat in the building.” He shrugged, “I think it’s any flat, anyway. I’m pretty sure I’ve left most people a plant by now.”
John grinned. “Why did you decide to do the thing with the plants?” he asked.
Roger shrugged and stared into his glass, “I thought it would be nice,” he mumbled.
“It was,” John agreed. He considered this, “Is my access hatch in my bedroom? Is that why you didn’t leave a plant until I was away?”
Roger nodded, “Your hatch is just next to your bed. Good thing you didn’t put your bed in front of it actually.” He took another deep breath. “I...um...The plants are partially to give to people because I...I’m a jewel thief but I’ve been feeling more and more guilty about that lately so I wanted to do something nice to kind of atone for my sins a little bit.”
John sipped his drink. “You carried out those robberies from celebrities?”
Roger nodded again. “I understand if you feel you need to tell the police. I’m tired of that life. I want to go straight. If that means serving a prison sentence then so be it.” He smiled a little shyly at John. “I really like plants. I’ve applied for a normal job at a garden centre.”
John twisted his glass in his hands. He shook his head. “I don’t think I want to turn you in,” he told Roger. He set his glass on the table and leaned over so he could kiss Roger. He smiled at Roger’s wide-eyed surprise as he parted from him. “Couldn’t do that if you were behind bars,” he murmured, flushing.
“Very true,” Roger breathed, leaning over so he could kiss John.
John gulped some vodka. “I don’t want you to feel pressured. I’m not going to tell the authorities even if you don’t want a relationship with me.”
Roger smiled shyly at him, “Wanting you to think well of me is one of the reasons why I’ve decided to give up a life of crime. I don’t feel pressured. I’m delighted you seem to feel the same way I do.”
“I think,” John said slowly, “I’d better give you the spare key to this place.” He grinned, “I’m quite happy if you want to sneak into my bedroom through the wall, though.”
*
The property developers asked for access to everyone’s flats as they began work to sort the sound-proofing issues. John and Roger worked out that they were placing acoustic panels across the access hatches and also effectively sealing them off. “It’s probably for the best,” Roger sighed.
“It is,” John agreed, wrapping his arms around Roger’s waist and pulling him close, “No naughty thieves will be able to sneak into anyone’s flat.”
Even with the work that was being undertaken the flats would not be completely sound-proof. The developers were reluctantly providing financial compensation for the inconvenience caused.
“Perhaps we should go on holiday with the compensation money,” Freddie suggested, “All four of us. Veronica and Chrissie too, maybe, if they would like. Triple dating for a few weeks.”
John grinned and sipped his cocktail, “Sounds blissful.”
“Just think,” Brian cast a dreamy look at Freddie, “Without the sound-proofing problems we might never have met.”
“Poor John might not be with us if it hadn’t been for the dodgy sound-proofing,” Freddie murmured.
Roger gave a little shudder and reached out and squeezed John’s hand. “That doesn’t bear thinking about,” he said.
“Happily you saved me, though,” John leaned over to give him a little kiss.
“I think in a lot of ways you might have saved me,” Roger said softly for John’s ears only.
Maybe Veronica had been right, John mused, and he and Roger were a match made in heaven after all.