The Lady Next Door

Our elderly neighbour passed away
We went into her house, it looked so bare
The only thing that remained of her
Was a shawl draped over her chair

I remember when she moved in
In nineteen ninety five
She told us she'd had three heart attacks
And was lucky to be alive

Everyday she’d come and ask
If I’d go for her cigarettes
Or go to the local betting shop
And put on her horse-racing bets

One day she asked me in
And showed me a photo of her son Dave
She said he had an unruly beard
Because he was too lazy to shave

She had shelves full of biscuit tins
And said “Biscuits are bad for your health”
Then took the lid off one
And said “it’s where I keep my wealth”

There must have been at least a grand
In used ten pound notes
She peeled two off the wad
And said “Buy yourself a winter coat”

I refused the money
To take it didn’t seem right
She said “you need the money more than me,
I've noticed your sad plight”

I asked her what she meant
And she said it was a scandal
Me walking around with a tear in my sleeve
I explained I’d caught it on a door handle

She had an ornate mantelpiece
With a China dog at either end
I said “those are probably valuable”
She said she'd been left them by a friend

She had two porcelain orbs
Hanging from her window sashes
I commented that they were pretty
She said they contained her late husband’s ashes

I asked if he'd been her only one
But she told me she'd had three
A Butcher, a Tailor
And the last one would go to sea

She’d heard he’d had a girl in every port
But hadn’t known if it was true
Then letters from different women arrived
She’d lost count at twenty-two

I sat in awe of all her antiques
She said she’d had a valuation
An offer from a local dealer
Had filled her with anticipation

She unbuttoned her hand-knitted cardigan
And reached into her blouse pocket
She asked me to hold out my hand
And she placed in it a locket

The locket was adorned with filigree
And was pretty beyond compare
She told me it contained
A lock of her late mother’s hair

I said I couldn’t take it
It must be of sentimental value
She said “Rather you than my son’s wife
Cos I know what she’ll do.

She’ll be straight round to the jewellers
And see how much it’s worth.
I can’t stand that woman
Though my son thinks she's the salt of the earth.

She's a right gold-digger
With my boy just for his money
When I try to warn my son
He seems to think it’s funny”

I tell her that it’s time I went
And she says “You’d best go home,
Nobody understands the loneliness
When you live alone”

I feel a pang of guilt
But I can't stay there forever
She says she'll go to bed when I’ve gone
Because she’s not feeling too clever

Later on that same day
We all heard an almighty bang
At her lounge window was an empty space
Where her curtains used to hang

My father broke down her front door
She lay beneath a wood hall stand
Lifeless and ashen, both eyes open
A porcelain orb clasped in each hand

Her son visited the following day
And stripped the whole house bare
No antiques left or money
Just her shawl upon her chair