By SteveO
Trish and I were next door neighbours at number 13 and number 15 Croall Avenue. Hers was the brown house, and mine the dark brown one. In fact, all the houses in Croall Avenue seemed to be some shade of brown. She was a single mum with a kid; a 6 year old boy called Alfred, and she rented her place from a guy called Mister Pilkington. She'd have been in her mid thirties, but it was hard to tell. Her dress sense consisted of unflattering track pants, although in Summer she sometimes wore shorts that were one or two sizes too small. Not a good look. Me? I was a newly divorced bloke, on the wrong side of forty, slightly balding, but still reasonably good looking. Or so I thought. I was living alone after my wife left me for a man ten years older than herself!
Trish and I exchanged the odd “hello” every so often, and I would give her a hand when she needed it. Like getting her car started or fixing up a shelf in her laundry. That sort of thing. One day she rang me – she usually popped over if she wanted something, so a phone call was a bit unusual.
“I can’t find my car keys” she says, “and I’ve got to go into town”
Without thinking I said “they’re in the freezer!”
There was a long pause, and then I could hear her in the distance opening the chest freezer, then footsteps back to the phone.
“You know, you were right. I must have dropped them in there when I put the groceries away” This was the start of our psychic relationship. More...
