My Nasty Neighbours Read Online Free PDF Page B

stain on the screen. ‘Lipstick,’ I corrected. ‘Someone’s written …’ I traced the letters and shut up.
    â€˜What does it say?’ asked Mum, as I tried to rub out the words with the sleeve of my jumper. At least I managed to smear them so that they were illegible.
    â€˜Exam pressure,’ shouted Dad. ‘I’ll give Ian exam pressure. This is what they had in mind.’ He was pacing back and forth in the sitting-room. ‘A party, the mother of all parties! Where are they?’
    Mum suddenly looked worried. ‘Perhaps it was intruders who did this, and they’ve harmed Helen and Ian.’
    â€˜Nonsense. Helen and Ian perpetrated this deed,’ shouted Dad, looking as if he was ready to harm them himself.
    â€˜Then where are they?’ wailed Mum.
    â€˜Not up yet, probably,’ I said. I could see what the next few hours would be like. Any hope of adecent meal was gone. The sooner we started, the sooner the arguments would be over and I’d get fed.
    I leapt up the stairs and into Helen’s room, but it was empty and so was Ian’s.
    â€˜They’re not in their beds!’ I shouted down. Downstairs I could hear windows being shut and Mum giving a commentary on the further damage she was finding.
    I sat on the top stair and called down, ‘They’re not here!’ If I managed to get Mum and Dad worried about Helen and Ian, they’d be easier on them when they did come face to face. Then this little crisis might be over in a decade or two …
    But Helen spoiled it all by coming out of the bathroom.
    â€˜David,’ she said in a feeble voice, ‘I have a headache.’ She was wearing a long silky dressing-gown and gliding about like Greta Garbo in one of those old black-and-white films, while I had just endured a lousy ferry journey and was close to death by starvation. As usual there was no gratitude for my help.
    â€˜No kidding!’ I said more loudly. I resentedher manner. ‘Helen’s up here,’ I called down the stairs, ‘And she’s got a headache.’
    The noises downstairs had changed pitch. I heard Ian’s voice low and sulky, answering a battery of questions. I slid down a few stairs so I could observe what was happening. Ian was standing in the hall, looking decidedly rough. He was unshaven and beneath the stubble his skin was pale and blotchy. He clearly didn’t like the questions, but one followed another so quickly he couldn’t have answered even if he’d wanted to.
    Eventually he exploded. ‘Look!’ he said so loudly that Mum and Dad stopped. Actually he meant ‘listen’ not ‘look’ but I didn’t point that out – the atmosphere was tense.
    In a monotone, as if he was explaining something of great simplicity to idiots, he said, ‘I thought I’d have a few friends round. More than I expected turned up. Things got a bit … out of hand. I was airing the place and would have finished tidying up if Helen had helped.’
    I admired the way he put it: ‘finished’, as if he had done hours of work and just needed a fewmore minutes to make the place perfect.
    Helen heard her name and shot on to the landing. ‘If I’d helped!’ she shrieked. ‘Why should I help clear up after your friends? They are some of the rudest, ugliest, most disgusting … They completely ruined the gourmet dinner I cooked for Harry.’
    â€˜That was ruined the minute you turned on the oven,’ said Ian wearily.
    â€˜So, in other words,’ shouted Dad, ‘you abused our trust. You …’ he jabbed a finger at Ian, ‘did no work. And you …’ he turned to Helen, ‘you devoted your time to trying to impress that pompous–’
    â€˜Harry is not pompous,’ contradicted Helen. ‘He’s sophisticated. None of you know what that means.’ She sank down on the stairs, sounding close to