‘Is the fucking house on fire?’
Whoa. Where did he come from?
‘No, sorry. I burnt my bacon. Just give me a minute . . .’
‘Just shut that fucking racket up, will you? I’m trying to sleep.’
‘Umm . . .’ Honey stared at the alarm in panic. Her head was thumping, and out here the noise was even louder than in her kitchen. ‘I would, but I can’t reach it. Could you possibly . . .?’
He was well over six foot; with a stretch he’d make it, no problem.
‘No I fucking cannot. What sort of grown woman can’t cook bacon? Sort your own mess out.’ He curled his lip and slammed his door.
Honey reeled. Her life was full of people who, on the whole, were decent human beings. To come up against someone so outright obnoxious came as a shock.‘Fine!’ she shouted. ‘Fine. I’ll do it myself.’ She made a half-hearted attempt at jumping to smack the alarm box. Futile. At five foot five and not very athletic, it had always been a long shot.
Plan B was required. Honey took her slipper off and hurled it upwards, but still she missed the alarm by a good foot. Then she spotted her tall, red polka dot umbrella propped in the corner of the hallway. Bingo! Could she reach the reset button with the metal end spike? She tried, but the damn thing wobbled too much for accuracy and the close proximity to the noise threatened to burst her eardrums.
Gah. The next time she wanted bacon she’d go to the café on the corner.
Honey sighed and opted for the only source of action left. She swung the umbrella above her head and whacked the alarm clean off the wall. It bounced hard against her new neighbour’s door, then landed with a squawk, before dying. She closed her eyes in relief.
Johnny Depp wrenched his door open again.
‘What?’ he growled.
‘You knocked my door.’
‘Oh.’ Honey bent to pick up the mangled alarm. He recoiled as she straightened, as if her nearness offended him.
‘I didn’t knock. The alarm hit your door on the way down.’
‘You smashed it.’
No shit, Sherlock.
‘I suggest you don’t attempt to cook again. You might burn the fucking house down.’
The stony look on his face told her that he wasn’t amused. As did the door slammed in her face. Again.