REVIEWS POSTED ON GOODREADS
THE NOVEL BEGINS:
As a year it was not one of my best, beginning as it did with the discovery that my next door neighbour Mr. Lampeter had gone missing. A significant event, without doubt, but one that changed little in the house. Because he was a character who’d chosen to play no part in the communal life of Number 14, Beresford Park Road. The mystery of his absence simply replaced the mystery of his presence. The tenants of the other flats, all of them friends of mine, only rarely caught sight of him as he entered and left the building. If my day to day relationship with him was cursory theirs was closer to hypothetical.
Mr. Lampeter lived in Flat Two across the hall from me in Flat One. As I’ve already implied, he was anything but a gregarious man and I’d often not see him from one Friday to the next. If I did happen to meet him in the hallway, I’d say hello with a smile. This was to disregard the fact we were still not on first name terms after living opposite one another for five years or more. The single attempt I made at initiating a prolonged conversation made him visibly draw back in dismay and hurriedly search in his coat for his key while mumbling that he couldn’t linger as his time was not his own at that moment. A response bordering on the pointedly rude as far as I was concerned and I was, as you can imagine, somewhat hurt as a result. I offered two fingers and a silent “fuck you, then” to his door as it was shut firmly in my face.
Perhaps out of some sort of protective impulse in regard to myself and my future diligence with the can-opener, I’d noticed that if Audrey my cat saw Mr. Lampeter on her way in and out of the cat-flap in the front door she’d look up at him and hiss as she passed. Not a full on hiss but a peremptory warning before she brushed against my legs in order to encourage me to go back into the flat and do my duty and give her some food.
