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  "Brendan, the lawn's like a bloody sponge, but we just want it looking, well, decent! I know you understand. Anytime around three this afternoon will be fine."

  He fed his cat and listened to the weather forecast, which promised brighter skies.

  "You hear that, Mozart? We might get you some sunshine yet!"

  He took the lift down to the lobby with his single sheet of A4, every comma justified and in place, every apostrophe located with military, nay, editor's precision.

  "The last one," he said as he pinned it up.

  The lift doors opened as he admired his handiwork and Jane Hoare, notable absentee from the previous evening's meeting, stepped out, small tartan-pattern travel bag in her right hand.

  They looked at each other for a few seconds, Max's mouth curving imperceptibly into the usual sneer he reserved for her.

  "Mr. Chairman," she said, her voice deep and mocking.

  "Jane."

  "I'm sorry I couldn't come to your punctuation workshop last night. Barry told me it was fascinating. Was there cake and cherry pop?" Her smile threatened to become a laugh.

  "Going somewhere, are we?"

  Jane laid her left hand up on Max's shoulder, her face losing its jovial glow.

  "Listen Max, I'm going to one of those clinics. I have the money and, well, I have the money. There's no other reason."

  Max had known Jane for six years. He knew she didn't care anything for Cherry Tree View.

  "I was hoping you'd come tomorrow. We've got the final meeting. I understand it's not really your thing, not your scene, but I know Barry would appreciate seeing you there."

  "I've said my goodbyes to Barry, Max. I've said my goodbyes to everyone. I even rang my father last night, first time in two years."

  "We all have problems with families, Jane. It's what they're for." He cracked a smile. "Come to the meeting, Jane. Come tomorrow evening and we'll all say goodbye properly."

  Jane leant in and gave Max a kiss on his left side, just to the side of his eye. It was a tender gesture, the icing on what had been a difficult association.

  "Oh Max, Max, Max."

  Jane left her gloved hand on his cheek, lingering and stroking it a little with her thumb. She let it drop to her side.

  "Max, I hope tomorrow's everything you want it to be. I'll think of all of you tonight."

  She walked confidently to the doors and pushed through, the door swinging wildly against a pillar in the porch.

  Max strode to the doors as they were still swinging, a look of horror on his face.

  "If she's marked that door..."

  ***

  On Sunday morning, only four residents were in the Cherry View: Max, Cynthia, Barry and Colin. Nitin had left during the night with Samantha, speaking only to Barry. Nobody knew where Kevin was. He wasn't answering his door.

  "This is why I should have all the keys," said Max, standing on the third floor landing outside Kevin's door, feeling impotent. He looked like a telephone waiting to be answered in an empty house. "It's exactly for situations like this."

  "He'll have taken one of those packs, those DIY things," suggested Cynthia. Barry nodded but said nothing.

  "Well, that's one less for the meeting, isn't it?" said Max. "I've prepared everything for five and now there'll be one fewer. It's just that little bit of consideration I ask of you all. It's not a lot."

  The four spent the rest of the day at home. A few phone calls were made and Barry received a visitor in the early afternoon. They went walking for an hour and when Barry returned, alone, he found Max sitting on the single brick step by the pavement outside Cherry Tree View.

  "Family?" Max said as Barry sat down beside him.

  "Erm, no. Old work colleague. Found out he was in Hendon yesterday. Here with his mum and dad."

  "Are we mad, Barry? Are we mad for staying here?

  "Where else are you going to go? You three don't have close family. I don't even have that excuse, do I?"

  "Well, the main thing is that you're at peace, isn't it? I won't ask about your family, Barry. I'm not one to pry. You seen the grass, eh?"

  They both turned around to admire the even green stubble, not a leaf or twig in sight.

  "Your old army mate, was it?"

  "Yes, Brendan Matthews came by with his mower yesterday."

  It was starting to get dark and the sound of the sirens came over the rooftops.

  "Seems silly, doesn't it? Trying to get everyone tucked up in bed. Bloody fools. Shall we go and see if everyone's ready. Might as well start early if we're all here."

  ***

  Max pushed two of the redundant tables into the far corner of the room, leaving only one, around which the four sat. It was ten to seven, the only time a committee meeting had begun early.

  On the carpeted floor, pocked with thirty years of blackened chewing gum, Nigel sat, dressed still in a red hooded top and bright blue trousers. His yellow shoes ended in a toe-curling flourish.

  Barry was dressed in a t-shirt and boxer shorts, his eyes red and bleary. Colin had shocked them all by shedding his anorak of dandruff and choosing to go out in style in a navy blue suit, shoulders brushed and spotless. Cynthia, weeping and blowing great gales into a huge handkerchief, wore a cream suit that was half a size too tight. She'd laid off the éclairs from the Baker's Oven for a full two weeks in order to even get the buttons done up.

  "I'm sorry, everyone," Cynthia said. "I got a call from the States this evening. I've come over all silly, I know."

  The three men all took hold of Cynthia's right arm, which she held out towards the centre of the table. Max cleared his throat after a few seconds.

  "Well, as you all know, this is the last meeting and I wanted to thank you all for making this committee such a joy to chair. I have the final budget figures, which I know you're keen to hear."

  Max picked up a sheet of paper from the chair he'd put to his right.

  "The final utility bill direct debits went through last Wednesday and that leaves the balance of the account at eighty six pounds and a couple of pence. You'll have seen the garden is looking absolutely splendid today, thanks to an old friend of mine. I tried to give him twenty pounds, but he was having none of it, so I think that should be taken into account when considering how good these end-of-month figures look."

  From outside the window behind Max, there were discordant, angry yells in the street, a woman screaming. Cynthia, Barry and Colin looked past Max and saw only their own reflections, sitting around a table in a harshly-lit room.

  "I'm proud of the way we've kept the likes of that," Max said, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder towards the window, "out of the Cherry Tree. We've all been vigilant to keep the front doors closed and locked at all times."

  "It was the least we could do," said Colin. "I'm not ending my time here like a bloody savage." He gave his speck-free right shoulder a needless brush of his hand.

  "Before I forget - Gully and Slip. I flushed them down the loo half an hour ago. I just thought it was the fairest thing to do. They were a bugger to catch, I can tell you!"

  "The dustbins, Max," prompted Cynthia.

  "Oh, of course. Thank you, Cynthia. I would have forgotten. As you'll have all no doubt noticed, the wood has been stripped away from the fence that encircled the dustbins out front. Lord knows what they needed it for, to throw at each other one imagines. Anyway, that's not our concern. I've moved the two dustbins around to the side alley and put a new bolt on the gate, so they'll be safe there."

  "I remember when all that rubbish was strewn across the lawns," said Cynthia, shaking her head.

  "Well, precisely," said Max. "The last thing was the newsletter. I managed to get it into everyone's mailbox last night. Barry did some wonderful work on the layout. I'm sorry the last one was a bit thin on news. I think that's to be expected, given the present circumstances. Excellent minutes, Cynthia."

  Cynthia, handkerchief still hovering with intent, smiled up at Max.

  Silenc
e fell upon the room. A few over-revved engines wheezed outside in the street before passing.

  Max held out his hands in a gesture of finality and began to stand. It was quarter past seven.

  "What's everyone doing? Are you going back to your rooms?" Barry asked.

  "I think I will, if you all don't mind," said Cynthia.

  "I think so, yes. I'll head up in a little while," said Colin.

  Max nodded that he wasn't going to argue with what people wanted and Barry reached down into the bag he'd carried into the room.

  "Before we all head upstairs, I just wanted to share a toast."

  He laid the bottle on the table in the middle of them. Sainsbury's Lambrusco. The taste of Italy, bottled right here in England.

  "Only drink that was left when I passed by there today with my mate. Fussy buggers, leaving the three quid plonk."

  He reached back into the bag and pulled out a small tube of plastic cups.

  "Went a bit overboard on the cups. Sorry."

  He poured out an inch or two of the ruby froth and they all touched cups together.

  The other three looked at Barry, waiting.

  "Oh, right. Here's to the Cherry Tree View. It's been my home in more ways than one and I know that goes for most of us here. Cheers, everyone. May yours be a good one."

  After they'd shared a cup and then another, they walked out of the room, Colin's gaze on his watch.

  "Let's use the stairs," Barry said. "Exercise lengthens life, it's a scientific fact."

  Colin laughed and slapped Barry on the back.

  "You three go ahead," said Max. "I'm just going to check it's all locked up down here."

  Colin waved his watch at Max, who nodded. The three filed up the stairs and Max walked to the glass doors. It was dark and quiet outside. The light from the lobby lit up the porch outside and he grimaced as he caught sight of the black mark where Jane had slammed the door into a white post.

  "She should have paid for that," he mumbled.

  He flicked the switch on the wall and the lobby joined the rest of Hendon in darkness. A few lights were on in the next street but the service had been disintegrating for days.

  There was, however, enough light for Max to take a final admiring view of the Cherry Tree's precious lawn. He couldn't quite make out the flower beds, though, but he'd drunk them in all he could that afternoon.

  And then the sky glowed orange, then flashed white and Max turned his head quickly to the left. Under this odd cosmic torchlight, the flower beds, a little torn up over this last weekend but impressive never the less, leapt into view. The yellow crocuses stood out most, little flames of flower among the others, whose colours seemed drained, sucked into the moonish light.

  "Best bulbs I ever bought," he said, just in time, before the blast wave knocked Cherry Tree View from its tidily-mown perch.

  * * *

  Neil Coghlan is a 44 year old Londoner. After teaching English around the world for fifteen years, he is enjoying this new experience of writing, which he came to only very recently. Over a dozen of his stories are currently published in a wide range of print and online publications, including the RetroSpec anthology, the Love Kills anthology, the Pandora's Nightmare anthology, the Elements Of Horror anthology, Beyond Centauri magazine, Encounters magazine, and Bards & Sages Quarterly magazine. He also runs an educational website, esl-lounge.com.

  Also on Amazon

  Other short stories by Neil Coghlan on Amazon:

  The Bridge Builder of Arta

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  In a small park near his workplace, Benjamin McAuley finds two mysterious statues, sculptures that appear to defy the very laws of nature. Learning of the bizarre centuries-old legend behind the statues and of the man who built them, Benjamin is determined to investigate further.

  The Spring On Delaney

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  Albert Mullard's family, living in a small Southern town in the final years of the 19th Century, strike it rich when pure spring water begins bubbling up in their backyard. Albert and his sister, Jenny, are less interested in the implications of sudden wealth, happy enough that the cursed ants are drowned and their old dog Liberty has something cool to drink.

  Screen Six

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  Manny Gibbs, passing hours scrutinising CCTV security screens, doesn't have the most exciting job in the world. One evening, though, one of the screens shows something that Manny knows cannot be true. His curiosity awoken, Manny continues to investigate and discovers something that pushes at the walls of his own sanity. Manny, confronted by the multiple realities of Screen Six, must find out the truth before his own existence succumbs to altering actualities.

  The Spring On Delaney

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  Albert Mullard's family, living in a small Southern town in the final years of the 19th Century, strike it rich when pure spring water begins bubbling up in their backyard. Albert and his sister, Jenny, are less interested in the implications of sudden wealth, happy enough that the cursed ants are drowned and their old dog Liberty has something cool to drink.

  Memoir

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  Earth is but a hazy memory to those who escaped the carnage that destroyed the mother planet. Those in power on the new planet, however, continue to investigate the war that tore Earth apart. The descendants closest to the 'old regime' are investigated and interrogated. What do they know? How much do they remember of what happened on Earth when they were mere children? Could they ever really remember - or is there another way they could re-live those dark days?

  The Lake & The River

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  Daniel and his son Charlie go upstate to the lake which has played such a major role in their family's past. They reminisce on the shores of the lake, among memories and regrets, tears and laughter. Charlie comes to realize the stay holds more in store for him than he planned as his father seems in the mood to reveal a few family secrets.