Eden Heights

 

MARY: They was difficult times last summer. Don't know if it were the heat or what, but we didn't half have some bother. First, our Thomas split up with his girlfriend – came to stay with us for a while, sort himself out. Then Brian lost his job. He cried when I told him I'd got meself some work in the co-ee round the corner. Well I had to didn't I – somebody had to pay the bills. And then, that trouble with the DJ's.DAVID I think there were two of them, maybe three. I’m not sure really. I must have been out when they arrived because I didn’t hear them bring their stuff into the building. I only knew someone had moved into the flat on the fifth floor when the music started.

SUSAN: I'll never forget the night it all srated. I couldn't have told you what it was, that sound resonating from the top floor. All I know is, it didn't quite mix well with Tchaikovsky.

JAMES: I heard drums. Pounding and pounding, completely swallowing all other sounds.

BECKY: A sickening beat pounded through me as if I was standing right next to the speakers at a rave. Like I used to before Bo was born. It was that loud.

MARY: I'm ashamed to say it, but I never really knew our neighbours before – never really knew who the other tenants at Eden Heights were. Heights? That’s a laugh. What with all them high rises surrounding us now. We’re just the little kid on the block. It's not as if I ain't friendly – always chat to the customers – but none of us really talked. A 'hello' in passing maybe – not a proper conversation. Everyone just scurrying inside their own little doors.

'Cept James, that is, on the first floor. He pops out of his. It's like he's waiting – waiting til he hears footsteps and then, ta-da – he's there. Standing there kinda flushed, nervous-looking. Doesn't really say much though. Asks me how it's all going at the shop – always in topping up his electric, hiring DVD's. And he asks how Brian's doing. Bless. Reminds me of our Tommy. Bout the same age they are.

JAMES: One of the greatest things about Eden Heights was the people. I didn’t get much of a chance to speak to them, they were always busy, but if I heard them going past my flat, I’d pop out and say hello. It’s lovely when someone says hello to you. Sometimes they said hello back. That was nice of them.

MARY: Now Susan, she's a rum 'un. Beautiful piano player. When she moved into the flat below us we thought it were a record – she were that good! Hell of a job to get the bleedin' thing up here. All them stairs. That's the kinda music I don't mind listening to. Shame about the booze though – she don't half get through some spirits. Fumbles in her purse at the check-out, like she knows she shouldn't be buying this stuff, knows it isn't helping any. Won't ever look me in the eye. Such a shame.

SUSAN: I always enjoyed playing Mozart in the morning. It got the day off to a good start. Well, maybe not good, but it was a start. When I’d play him on Monday mornings, sometimes the prospect of the week ahead seemed manageable. The view from the piano was often bleak, but I liked that contrast. The motorway in the distance always seemed to move along to the rhythm.

JAMES: I was sitting watching telly when I heard an unfamiliar sound. I turned the telly down. Somewhere close a piano was playing, beautiful and melancholy. I closed my eyes and let the music slowly fill the apartment. Loneliness, despair, joy, hope, the composition said so much. For fifteen minutes I sat there, thinking about what I’d heard. I wanted to rush upstairs and find out who it was. But, no. I’d just be intruding.

MARY: That Becky – silly girl. She makes me so cross sometimes. Pushing that poor wee mite around in his buggy in the blazing hot sun. And no hat. Can you believe it? No sun hat. Sucking on a bottle of Ribena that'll rot his little teeth out. Silly, silly girl – no sense at all.

BECKY: I made a real effort to try to go out that Monday. It was so hot and airless. First, I checked all the plug sockets, made sure I hadn't left the gas on. Everything had to be switched off, extra safe, before I could leave the flat. Double checked. He was at the terrible toddler stage – it was wearing me down, stamping if I tried to dress him, screaming at nothing. I didn't know what to do. It's not as if I could call Mum and ask her – not since I got involved with Bo's Dad. As for him, Mr 'I Need to be a Free Spirit', Mr 'Why Don't You Go Back to Somerset' - he's probably half way to Goa by now.

So I'd turned out the lights, got Bo in the buggy, checked I had my keys and my mobile and everything. My heart thumping. Not thinking about the bump, bump, bump down each dirty step for two flights, not thinking about the rush of traffic, the hot fumes and the press of people. Especially not thinking about the trip back. I would never go if I thought about the trip back. Then I heard voices coming up the stairwell. Through the frosted glass I could see two blurry dark shapes carrying boxes on their shoulders, like a robbery in reverse, laughing, shouting, crashing about. I froze, I don't know how long I was there.

MARY: Then there's Mr Evans on the ground floor. He's been here as long as we have – six? no seven years now? Lived with his mother, dear soul, til she passed away. She must’ve been living here in it’s heyday. All mod cons. Not so modern now though. Bit run down. Such a shame. David, Mr Evans, comes in for his tins of Spam, packets of Smash, bananas. Never trust a Spam-eater I say, and there's definitely something strange, odd, about Mr Evans. Told me once he was away with the fairies. Wouldn't surprise me. No, there's something not quite right there.

DAVID: I didn’t ever see the people who lived on the fifth floor properly. I think I caught glimpses of their backs as they disappeared up the stairs a couple of times but that was it. I suppose it was rude for them to not introduce themselves but then again everyone in the block were strangers at that point. Everyone kept themselves to themselves.I think the others suffered more from the music. It was really loud, modern dance stuff I think. Over and over it played. Thud, thud, thud. Sometimes it went on all night. Being on the ground floor I had the least of it, I pitied those directly underneath it. It kept them awake and the poor girl with the baby broke down one day with the stress of it all. I now know her as Becky and her kid’s Bo but at the time she was just the young mum and kid. Everyone had a label back then.

SUSAN: I had heard unfamiliar voices ascending the stairwell, and a series of clunking noises, but I didn’t really pay any mind to it at the time. I had a few other matters to attend to, I’m afraid. It was my day off, and I’d planned to negotiate my way through a few G and Ts, while I pretended I was still a musician. Then it began.

JAMES: The piano had affected me. I had started to leave my window open while I was in, and I was almost always in. It was earlier than usual. The piano began to play and I sat down beneath the window, let the music wash over me. All of a sudden there was a crashing noise from the top floor. The window started to vibrate. A dance beat. It was pumping. Incessant. I heard the piano upstairs go discordant and just stop.

SUSAN: What a poisonous sound that was. A week had past and it still went on. It wouldn’t let me live. I didn’t ask for much. I just wanted to hear my own sound. I just needed to remind myself that I could still compose a tune, or that my piano was still in tune. I really wouldn’t have minded if it was something I knew, then maybe I could have played along. We could have, between us, set the building alight with sounds of Verdi, and Chopin. I remember thinking that I couldn’t possibly be the only one dismayed by our new residents. Something will be done soon, I thought. Something has to be done.

MARY: Terrible it was. Makes me want to cover me ears just thinking about it. The noise was dreadful, truly awful. The ceiling used to pulsate above our heads. Terrifying – thought the whole lot was coming down. Still have night terrors – break into a cold sweat. Brian says it's the menopause, but I don't think so. Course I went straight up there – beat on their door til the heels of me hands throbbed red. They didn't hear – couldn't hear me. Tried to get to sleep, but it was hopeless. And so it went on night after night after night.

BECKY: I tried to go out again on Thursday. We’d run out of bananas. Bo loved bananas then, they were the only thing he would eat. The music drove me out. It woke Bo up. He was crying, climbing out of the buggy, shouting 'Nanas, Nanas!'. I tried to get him back in but he wouldn't have it, wanted to walk, so I held his hand and started out step by step, me dragging the buggy, thinking he'll be tired soon, he'll want to get back in, scared the men would come crashing by and my head thudding with the beat from upstairs. I only looked up when we reached the ground floor. That was when I saw the old man with his shopping. He was odd-looking, nervy, staring at Bo. I must've loosened my grip on Bo's hand then, because he darted away, the buggy tipped over and Bo tripped, smack, on the gravel with both knees. He started screaming.

DAVID: I was just coming back from the shops. My head was swimming with ideas for my latest book. It’s a fairy story with a difference. I take photographs of children and turn them into fairies. I get a lot of joy out of them. One day they’ll sell I’m sure. I turned the corner and saw the young Mum struggling down the steps with the buggy. The boy fell so I rushed over.

BECKY: Poor little lad, the man said. Here let me help you. He helped me put the buggy right. He had a lost look, but I could see he had kind eyes. He's hungry, I said, I'm going to get some bananas. I should've gone to the shops yesterday. I lost track of time and then it was dark. I don't go out after dark. I sounded pathetic. But he didn't even frown, not like that woman in the Co-op. He just said gently, I had a boy once. It was a long time ago. He gave Bo this really small, sad smile. Now, if that is the only reason you're going to the shops, he said, I have some right here, save you the trouble, I can see you've got your hands full. And he handed me a small bunch of bananas. Bo stretched his arms up straight away, 'Nanas,' he said. I would've been stupid to refuse. I needed kindness so badly then. It sounds silly, but having to take those bananas from a stranger - it made me see I needed some proper help. It was the first time anyone from the flats had been kind to me. It was like someone had turned the lights on. I started crying. With relief.

DAVID: I hesitated. I was a stranger back then but I’m good with kids and soon he was smiling and back on his feet. I like kids. A lot. They bring so much happiness and joy into peoples lives. I had a son once. A long time ago. He died. I hadn’t told anyone until that day. I’d kept it to myself. Kept the pain to myself.

DAVID: She broke down, said she’d only had a couple of hours sleep all week because of the constant blast of music from the fifth floor. She couldn’t take it anymore. She needed a friend so I listened. It was a shame her bringing the boy up on her own without any support so I offered to help whenever she needed it.

BECKY: Thank you, I said. It's all got a bit much lately. With the noise and everything. He nodded. He had this funny look, like he was the one who should be grateful to me. You go on back he said. Put your feet up. We're going to do something about that noise, just you see.

MARY: I couldn’t stand it any longer. Rang the police – wanted to make an official complaint. Nothing to do with them, apparently. Told me to contact Environmental Health. It’s loud music that’s the problem, not rats, I says.

SUSAN: When there occasionally was silence, what proved worse was the sudden resumption of the noise. Returning home from the shop, the unannounced racket shocked me to such an extent that I dropped my shopping bags.

JAMES: I flung open the door. The pretty woman from the fourth floor was standing in a puddle. Glass all over the floor.

SUSAN: That was when I first glanced at his kindly face. My initial reaction was one of sheer embarrassment.

JAMES: Barely thinking, I ran into my flat, grabbed a towel and started to clear up the mess. Then my mind went blank. Stammering, I backed quickly into my apartment, and slammed the door shut. I leaned against the door. Why had I done that?

MARY: Brian were ever so helpful. When I were at work, he kept a record of every time they made a racket. Together we wrote the letter – the one asking everybody else to join us – go up and confront them ruddy DJ's. They'd have to take notice then, if we all went together.

DAVID: I callled in that Friday to make sure Becky was all right. I pretended that the music had been disturbing me too, it felt better to tell her that than the truth. I said we'd have to do something about it, but at the time, I had no idea how. Then Mary's letter arrived and I could just tag along with the group.

BECKY: And then I got this letter. It was handwritten - real friendly.

JAMES: There was a letter from the old lady upstairs. It was the only letter that I'd received in years that wasn't from a corporation.

SUSAN: It seems I was not the only one perturbed ny our top floor friends. There was a suggestion of everybody meeting to address the situationt. We needed safety in numbers, and I felt reassured by this newfound community spirit.

JAMES: Saturday morning came, and I heard the old man who lived below me march up the stairs. I headed for the door, but I stopped. I wondered if they really needed me?

SUSAN: We followed Mary up the stairs to the source of the problem. But it struck me as odd that my earlier acquaintance, James, was not with us.

JAMES: There was a knock at my door. It was Susan. She smiled at me and beckoned me to follow. The two of us walked upstairs and joined the others.

MARY: When we got there, it were strange. They'd gone. Vanished. The door were ajar - but no-one there.

SUSAN: To our amazement, and relief, the room was empty. Not a soul to be seen.

BECKY: It felt wierd for a few minutes. We all just stood there. Then Mary started laughing. Before we knew it, we were all laughing. And talking to each other.

DAVID: Since then, we've spruced up the stairs and the foyer. It was Mary's idea. It's much more homely now. Becky made some curtains for the windows near the door, and Susan put some plants near the stairwell to brighten it up a bit. James has come out of his shell and helped paint the wall's a bright red colour. Things are looking up. A new family's moving into the fifth floor flat on Saturday, so we're going to make them feel really welcome. We're having drinks at Mary's I think.