Neighbourhood Watch

NEIGHBOURHOOD WATCH

By: Joyce Hicks

DORA was standing at her usual place by the living room window,
watching the street, and she twitched the curtain just a little
more to get a better view. It was late. With only one or two
exceptions, the houses were in darkness. The residents of
Cherry Close were probably tucked up in their beds. It was that kind of
neighbourhood: quiet, respectable, law abiding.

Dora and Colin - her twenty-year-old son - had been renting the house
only a few months. At first she was doubtful
that the neignhournood was quite right for them, but she needn't have
worried. Everything was working out perfectly.

But no matter where they were, she always made a point of watching the
street, especially at night. In fact, she saw it
as her civic duty. Well, there was so much crime and vandalism these
days that one could never be too vigilant. So whenever
she saw anything remotely suspicious, she was on to the local police
station in a flash. Already she'd reported half a dozen
suspicious goings-on, and had even encouraged the neighbours to do
likewise. So it was surprising, not to mention a great
pity, that the police didn't fully appreciate her efforts. The fact
that these sitings had all turned out to be completely
innocent was neither here nor there. It was better to be safe than
sorry: that was Dora's motto.

The police thought differently. Oh, they were happy enough to begin
with, and had even praised Dora's public-
spirited attitude. Recently, though, she'd noticed a definite shift in
their responses to her phone calls - the heavy sigh,
the note of impatience, the sign that they were only half listening.
The last time it happened they had virtually
accused her of wasting their time and resources. They hadn't exactly
told her in so many words to start minding her own
business, but that was definitely the message.

Fortuately, Dora wasn't that easily intimidated or deterred, and she
turned now to look at the telephone. She was
about to make yet another call, and although she already knew the kind
of reaction it would get, she felt duty bound to make it.

She picked up the telephone and dialled. The duty officer turned out to
be Sergeant Bradshaw, and Dora felt her stomach
tighten into a little knot. She was not his favourite person.

'Evening, Mrs Duncan,' he said wearily. 'Having trouble sleeping, are
we?'

Dora took a deep breath and told herself to remain calm and reasonable,
no matter what the provocation. 'I'm not even
attempting to sleep,' she answered politely. 'I was just looking out of
my window. . .'

'Don't tell me. . . You've spotted villains lurking about in the
shrubbery,' he interrupted. He sounded impatient already.

'I fully understand your scepticism, Sergeant,' Dora conceded, because
she honestly did, 'but this time I really do
think it's something that should be followed up. I'm sure there's
someone - as you say - lurking.'

She heard him clearly trying to stifle a yawn, and went on rapidly,
'It's over at number twenty seven. A beautiful house.
And so many lovely things inside. I know, because they kindly invited
me in one day, to look around.'

Dora always made a point of calling on her neighbours, and sometimes
they invited her in for a cup of tea and a chat.

'I also happen to know that Mrs Phillips, the lady of the house, has
some rather expensive jewellery. Mr Phillips is
something important in the City, you see, so they can afford these
things,' she added helpfully. 'And I'm pretty certain
that they're away at the moment. It's a worry, because their back door
looked rather vulnerable, to me. Sergeant? Are you
still there?'

He breathed a sigh heavy with exasparation. 'Do you know what day this
is?' he asked suddenly.

'Of course I do, it's Saturday,' Dora said, puzzled at the
question.

'That's right, it's Saturday,' he said sharply. 'And it's after
midnight. People are beginning to pour out of pubs, clubs and
discos. Unfortunately they're often much the worse for wear, Mrs.
Duncan, and looking for trouble! Now,' he said, with a note of
finality, 'our manpower and resources are not unlimited, especially on
a Saturday night. I appreciate your concern, but I cannot keep
diverting squad cars to Cherry Close every time you think you see
someone loitering in the shadows. May I
suggest that you make yourself a nice cup of Horlicks, and go to bed.
Just leave the policing to us. Please!'

Dora started to speak, thought better of it and put down the phone. In
any case the sergeant had already hung up. What
on earth was the world coming to, when the authorities scoffed at all
your attempts to be helpful? Horlicks, indeed! Well,
she'd tried to warn them, and could do no more than that.

She went into the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea, and made a
plate of ham sandwiches while she was at it. Colin
would be back soon, and he did rather like a ham sandwich when he came
home.

He arrived about ten minutes later, found her still pottering in the
kitchen, and slumped heavily into a chair.

Dora handed her son a cup of tea. 'I phoned the police station a little
earlier,' she said, pushing the plate of
sandwiches across to him.

He picked one up and took a large bite. 'Was that wise, Mum? Setting
yourself up as the street vigilante is one thing,
but. . .'

Dora shook her head. 'Oh, they weren't in the least bit interested. I'm
wasting police time and resources apparently -
or so the sergeant told me. I stood more chance of winning the Lottery
than getting a squad car over here tonight, which is
pretty much what I anticipated. Sergeant Bradshaw is so
predictable!'

They both started to roar with laughter. 'Nice one, Mum,' Colin
chuckled. He stooped and picked his black bag up from
the floor, and as he deftly turned it upside down, the contents tumbled
out onto the table. Dora's eyes sparkled as brightly
as the precious gems and gold that lay in front of her.

'It's our best haul yet,' she murmured reverently, picking up a
magnificent diamond ring as she spoke. 'Poor Mrs
Phillips. . . Never mind, she's well insured.' She ran a well-trained
eye over the items on the table. 'We can shift this
lot tomorrow, no problem, and after that. . . I think I fancy somewhere
warm and exotic for a change, don't you?'

Colin nodded agreement and picked up another sandwich. Dora was already
planning their next move.