Jack McCartney pulled into his street. He was so glad it was Friday. It had been a hard week at the office. He yanked his tie loose a couple of inches as he neared his house. He slowed down as he saw the row of vehicles parked over the road from his house. There were removal vehicles, cars and transit vans. People, mostly wearing tracksuits, were unloading furniture and cardboard boxes and taking them into the house.

As Jack climbed out of his car and headed for his front door, a voice called out to him.

‘Alright, mate?’

Jack turned to see a man standing on the front path of the house facing. Behind him, the door was open and a steady stream of people flowed into the house with boxes and household items. The guy who’d called out was in his late twenties with a shaved head and a thick gold chain around his neck. Tattoos protruded from under his t-shirt sleeves. He took a swig from his beer can before he spoke.

‘I’m Nathan, we’re just moving in.’ he grinned.

Jack managed a smile and muttered welcome to the neighbourhood before retreating to his own front door.

He found his wife Suzanne in the kitchen making a cup of tea.

‘Hi love, want a brew?’

‘Have you seen that lot out there?’ Jack asked.

At his feet their yellow Labrador puppy chewed on his shoelaces. Jack let the pup carry on. While the puppy was having a go at his laces, he was leaving their other belongings alone.

‘What are you going on about?’ she asked.

‘Those hillbillies moving into number twenty.’

‘I saw them earlier. They seem nice. Nathan and Laura. They were making a right fuss of the dog.’

‘The dog? You watch Lennon with them, alright? He’s a pedigree and we’ve not had him that long.’

‘Stop it, love. Be nice. We don’t know anything about them.’

‘Exactly. And you hear of dogs being stolen all the time. It was on the breakfast news the other morning. And they look like proper scallies.’ Jack said. ‘Are they really the kind of people you want living on our street?’

Suzanne said nothing, going through to the living room with her mug of tea. Lennon, the puppy, padded along after her. Jack sighed, he knew he wants being judgemental. You had to be careful. You had to be wary of people you didn’t know. That wasn’t being nasty, it was being realistic. A family that seemed at best, rough around the edges, had moved in right opposite, so it was only natural that Jack and Suzanne keep a close eye on their belongings, and in particular, their prized puppy that they had paid a lot of money for only a matter of weeks ago. He hoped he would be proved wrong, but until then, he would keep his guard up where they were concerned.

Over the next few days, Jack eyed Nathan’s house whenever he passed by. He also often found himself peering out the living room window, watching the house. Nathan’s wife, Laura, seemed to be in her dressing gown and pyjamas until late in the afternoon. Tinny pop music seemed to be constantly blaring out from the upstairs windows.

When Jack and Suzanne returned home each evening, they would find that Lennon had chewed something else to bits while they’d been out. Suzanne popped home from work every lunchtime to feed and walk the dog. The chewing thing, she insisted, was just a phase that dogs went through and grew out of. She would tell Jack not to worry.

Jack would reply that it was fine. And it was. He didn’t mind Lennon chewing up an old pair of trainers. It really didn’t matter. He was more concerned about the chavs living over the road. Goodness knew what they were up to. Every morning he would hear the clatter of beer cans being dropped in the recycling bin. Jack had a drop of whiskey every night, but that was different to downing cans of lager.

When he locked his car at night, he would go back to check it was locked. Couldn’t be too careful, and if that lot notices his car was unlocked, then it wouldn’t be there in the morning. And he hated the way that lot made a fuss of the dog. Whenever Suzanne took Lennon out for a walk, she would bump into one of them, and they’d bang on about what a treasure he was. Jack was certain it was a matter of time before they tried something.

Suzanne would insist he’ was being paranoid, and completely unreasonable. Was he being judgemental? Possibly, but Suzanne thought the best of everyone. She saw the good in people and always tried to take the positives from any situation. Last year, they had been delayed two hours at the airport going on holiday. While Jack had lost his temper, swearing and chunnering about the delay, Suzanne had calmly pointed out that they were at the airport about to fly off for a week in Majorca, and that was so much better than being in work.

But the scally family over the road were a different matter. They swaggered around in tracksuits and baseball caps, treating the street like their own backyard. You’d think that they were the ones who’d lived there for years, not Jack and Suzanne.

Jack opened the front door one evening. He was first home, Suzanne would probably be home in ten minutes or so, depending on traffic. Lennon came rushing up to him, wagging his tale excitedly. The puppy looked like something from a TV advert for toilet roll.

‘Come on, you villain.’ said Jack, scooping the pup into his arms. He closed the front door behind him and went through to the living room to see what carnage the adorable little critter had done today.

It turned out Lennon had chosen a scatter cushion as this afternoon’s victim. The room was covered in white stuffing. It covered the room like confetti. He looked down, about to chastise the dog for his behaviour, but as he looked into those brown eyes, as the dog pawed at his chest, tail still wagging, Jack simply smiled and shook his head.

‘What will we do with you, eh?’

He placed Lennon gently on the sofa and went to grab the vacuum cleaner to clean up the mess before Suzanne got home.

A few nights later, Jack was the first one home again. As he pulled up, he sighed to himself. Let’s see what mess the dog has made this afternoon. At least when Suzanne was first home, she had the unpleasant task of dealing with whatever Lennon had done that afternoon. At best he’d have done his business on the rug, and at worst, chewed a prized possession to bits.

He let himself in the front door.

‘Lennon? Here boy, I’m home.’

He went through to the living room. The place look surprisingly intact considering the usual chaos that greeted him when he arrived home. And there was no sign of the dog. He called out again for the puppy. He listened for the patter of puppy steps. Silence. He called out again, growing concerned. You normally didn’t have to call him. He usually came running as soon as you opened the door. But today there was no sign of the little feller. He checked the rooms. No sign at all. The dog wasn’t in the house. He rushed out into the garden, calling out, here boy, here boy. Nothing.

Then it occurred to him. That lot over the road had struck at last. Ranting angrily to himself, he marched across the road. See Suzanne, he groaned, I was right all along.

He banged furiously on their front door. Moments later Nathan opened the door. Smiling, he had a can of energy drink in one hand, and a yellow Labrador puppy under his other arm.

‘Alright, Jack?’

‘I’ll be taking him home, thank you.’

Jack snatched the puppy from his stunned neighbour.

‘I just knew you’d try something like this. You couldn’t keep your thieving hands off, could you? Did you honestly think you’d get away with it?’ he spat.

Leaving Nathan standing on the doorstep, Jack stormed back home. He slammed the door shut behind him.

He put Lennon on the living room rug and reached for his mobile phone. Wait until Suzanne heard about this. The small screen said one new voice mail message.

Still distracted by the neighbours attempt at dog-theft, he clicked and listened to the new message on speaker.

Hi, Suzanne’s voice called out, it’s me. Just to let you know, Lennon was really unsettled at lunchtime, so Nathan over the road is looking after him this afternoon. I bumped into him on my way out the door. That’s nice, isn’t it? I think you were wrong about them.

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom