Everything is Beautiful by Eleanor Ray (best classic romance novels txt) 📕

up one day to fill up their cars with her possessions. Sad as she’d been, there followed a glorious time with no neighbours at all on that side, a luxury rarely afforded in the area. Then the ‘For Sale’ sign was replaced with a triumphant boast from the estate agent. Sold.

And now, here they were. Her new neighbours.

Well, not exactly. Two men in bright blue overalls emerged from the truck and opened it up. ‘I’m going to see if they’d like a cuppa,’ said Rachel, trotting over to the van. She turned back to Amy as she went. ‘Sort out the mice or I will be forced to report you. I mean it this time.’

She watched Rachel smiling at the removals men while trying to get a good peek inside the truck. Amy went back into her house. She couldn’t help but want to nose too, but she decided to take a subtler tack and headed to her living room.

Even she had to admit, this room was at capacity. Boxes were piled up like pyramids. Some had mirrors leaning on them, some had vases still waiting for flowers. There were several clocks that had long since ceased to tick. Lighters were scattered like confetti on what little floor space there was.

Many boxes were adorned with birds.

Amy kept as many of her birds out as she could. It seemed cruel to have them cooped up in darkness when they loved the sunlight, but Amy couldn’t make space for them all to be free at once. She’d kept the sofa mostly clear to give herself a rather indulgent place to sit, and she’d also made sure she had a thin walkway to the window. She traversed her miniature ravine, then turned back to admire the room.

Hundreds of little china eyes peered back at her. She’d quite a collection in her aviary, as she liked to call it. Inquisitive blue tits, exotic parakeets, diving swifts, angry jays, proud kingfishers. Perched on shelves, on boxes, on the windowsill.

Exquisite.

She felt she shouldn’t have favourites, but she couldn’t help herself. She approached the windowsill and placed a gentle hand on Scarlett’s back. Amy still remembered the moment she’d found her in the bargain bin of Amy’s favourite charity shop. The china body of a robin, her breast bright red and her eyes gleaming. Full of hope. But her delicate legs were broken and her feet were nowhere to be seen.

Amy had frantically rummaged through the bin, to the amusement of the volunteer staff, until she emerged triumphant with the robin’s china perch, complete with spindly feet still tightly gripping the branch. She’d bought the bird at once and rushed home. Some glue and a nervous wait later, and the robin was whole again, albeit with legs that would forever be crooked.

That didn’t matter to Amy, of course. She loved her all the more for her imperfections. She pulled the curtain to one side and they looked out of the window together.

Rachel was flicking her hair around and laughing at something the younger of the two removals men had said, and the older man was unloading chairs from the van alone. He had a round belly and nasty cough. Amy peered at the chairs. There were four: wooden and nondescript. Not much to be gleaned about the new neighbours from that.

Amy had barely noticed it at first, but the area, once having rather a grimy edge, had gradually become desirable. Laundromats had been replaced by artisan bakeries and the price of a cup of coffee had gone up fourfold. Couples and young families were snapping up properties like organic croissants. The houses were small and terraced, but came with gardens and an easy commute into the city. Amy supposed that she should be pleased that her house, which she had scrimped and saved for when her landlord wanted to sell it, had gone up in value. But the truth was it made no difference to her. She couldn’t imagine ever moving.

What if Tim came back?

She watched Rachel walk past Amy’s house and back to her own. Amy was pleased to see that the older man had the help of his companion again. They lifted a table out of the van, then unloaded something garish, bright yellow and plastic. Amy strained her eyes, trying to work out what it was.

A car. She looked again. No, a bed in the shape of a car. A child’s bed.

Damn.

It was inevitable, she supposed, and there were other children on the street. But right next door? Her hand found Scarlett again, and for a moment, she imagined the robin to be quivering with fear. Children were breakers. They both knew that. Silently she promised Scarlett that she would keep her safe.

She watched more furniture as it was paraded past her window. A futon. Bean bags. A number of house plants at various stages of dehydration. Numerous boxes, their contents a mystery.

Rachel emerged from her house clutching a large plate with what looked to be a Victoria sponge sitting on top. She certainly hadn’t had time to bake it – she must have run to the local shop. Amy leaned forwards, pressing her forehead against the windowpane. Sure enough, Rachel was panting as she made her way past Amy’s house to old Mrs Hill’s place. Amy couldn’t see the door from her house, but she heard the bell ring and a woman answer. Not one but two children emerged from the house and into her field of vision.

Both were boys. Amy couldn’t help but feel that was even worse news. A nursery rhyme about slugs and snails and puppy-dog tails started to play in her mind.

The older child might have been eight or nine and began kicking a red football at the side of the removals van. Footballs could cause a lot of damage. Amy watched him kick, wondering if he had enough power to get it through her window. The younger child was perhaps three, and was watching his brother and sucking