In The Stair: 1

They moved in towards Winter a couple of years ago.  Neither of them from round here, no one is these days. It's not like when we first moved here and Maurice's work buddies also lived in the neighbourhood and I could head out to the bingo and meet the girls at the bus stop on the way. The young couple, medical the both of them, seemed to have an endless procession of young friends around all the time, none of them from round here neither. I suppose they did a good job with their doctoring and such but you've never seen anything like them in terms of laughter and easy attitudes, I wouldn't trust a doctor to treat me or tell me what was wrong if they jumped about like he did and wore beanie hats and had tattoos.  They both had tattoos.

Another thing, when the van arrived I met them in the stairwell - cleaning of course - and told them about the charges for my monthly stair work and that I'd take parcels in any time they needed: I was sure they told me that he was a doctor up at the General and she was a ward nurse.  But when that first parcel landed with me shortly before Christmas, it said 'Dr Sarah Mulhaddi' on the label, so she couldn't be a nurse after all.  None of his parcels, when later they came, were for 'Dr' anyone; they all just said 'Bryn O'Hara'.

I didn't want to be nosy, so I just handed the parcels over when they came knocking.  They declined my invitation to sherry on Christmas Eve too, both had to work. They always seemed to shrivel their noses at my flat when I opened up the door to them; non smokers both of them. So it had to wait till Hogmanay.

A tradition of mine, my mother taught me well, is always to have a proper clear-out before the New Year starts. That way you are not carrying any of your bad habits, or dusty curtains in this instance, forwards with you.  I've always been community minded, so I've always done the staircleaning on Hogmanay too.  Of course this means a double charge for the month of December, but with fewer and fewer of the neighbours providing a Christmas tip as the years go on, I don't feel too bad about that.  So there I was, Tuesday I believe, giving a wet dust to the railings when Sarah came home up the stairs, groceries bulging in plastic beside her.

'Happy New Year!' she says, brightly...

'When it comes!' I fling back hurriedly. Honestly, where did these folk learn their customs from? Doctor or not I am not having someone bringing any more bad luck into my life by wishing my life away before it happens.

''Will it be a late one for you?' she asks, referring to the revelries.  But I've never been one much for drinking and with Maurice being the way he is I canna see much dancing going on anyways.

'Not for us', I reply. 'Just a couple of whiskies with the bells and then turn the telly off and try and sleep through that racket.' I jerked my hand towards the direction the castle lies, a bit too vehemently as it turned out as I splashed some dirty water off my rag up the wall. Cursing, I dabbed at it and tried to hide my annoyance with a question. 'Are you and Doctor O'Hara headed out to the Firworks?'  Her face told me all I needed.

'Erm, no. And actually, I don't want to appear a pedant, but Bryn's not a doctor, he's a staff nurse down at the Royal... Not that nursing is worse... or anything, indeed... than doctoring... it's all necessary. Just... anyway, I mean  .... I mean, no, Mrs Beveridge, we're actually having some friends round for dinner tonight,' She indicates her grocery bags. 'Then ten pee em shifts for all; it's going to be a busy one tonight.'  She looked embarassed. She smiled like a spaniel caught in the act and turned to climb the stairs. I went back to my cleaning and thought on.