Angelic Neighbours

Episode 16

Rose was settling in for her first proper evening in her new apartment. Bergamot had gone home in tears earlier, not hysterical tears which might have been easier to handle but rivers of quiet tears which had literally streamed down her beautiful cheeks as she declared that she would never love anybody else but Rose in her whole life. Rose had apologized a hundred times. Bergamot told Rose that she loved her very much and that she always would. She repeated over and over that Rose was to come and see her if she ever felt lonely. B's voice was broken and she was hardly able to speak. Her English was even more confusing "we will drunk some more wine and and we will dance on each others arms".
They walked to the top of the stairs together and said goodbye.

Rose began to add little feminine touches to the flat. She ran down to the flower shop on the corner and bought several potted geraniums for her window sills and she spread a blue and white cotton cloth on the table. It was getting chilly as evening drew in and Rose went to the boiler in the back of the kitchen to switch on the central heating. It looked pretty simple, there was an "on/off" switch and a dial which looked like a timer and another dial for temperature settings. She flicked the switch to "on" and was fiddling with the timer when the rumbling sound started. She told herself that it was just the boiler coming on, and as it got louder she told herself that it was just the boiler heating up, but she wasn't prepared for what happened next. A frighteningly loud banging noise started coming from the inside of the walls and the rumbling sound got so loud Rose was sure there was going to be an explosion. She turned the switch to "off" and then stood back. The rumbling stopped but the banging noise just got louder.
Rose was not good with machinery and she felt very uncertain about what to do next. She tried ringing her landlady but her phone just rang out. She suddenly had an idea, "neighbors!" she thought.
Standing outside the neighboring apartment Rose pressed the buzzer and then waited for someone to come to the door. She could still hear the banging noise coming from her flat. Rose had her back turned and was just thinking of going to the flat across the hall when she heard the door opening behind her. "Hello!" two voices called in unison. A young man and young woman stood side by side. "I live next door..." Rose began but before she could finish the two said "come in!", once again in unison. The man stood aside and the woman led the way and Rose followed, a little apprehensive about leaving her banging walls to their own devices. Rose began again, "My name is Rose, I moved in next door". The woman had long brown hair which came right down to her waist, she put her hand out to shake Rose's, "I'm Coriander, but my friends call me Cory and this is my brother Rosewood...". The man, Rosewood, continued where Coriander left off , "we are students at the art college and live here for only nine months out of the year".
Rosewood also had very long hair but his was tied back with a long dark red leather tie. He had dark soft hair on his face and it looked as if he was cultivating a very slow beard. His eyes were captivating and they reminded Rose of a horse she used to own when she was a child. His eyelashes were thick and black and came all the way in to the tear ducts so that the whole eye was framed in shadow. His jaw line was square and chiseled and he had a high and intelligent looking forehead. Rose found herself staring and completely forgetting her exploding heating system.
His attire was most unusual yet peculiarly it didn't look theatrical as it may have done on anybody else. He wore a loose off-white thick linen shirt which had wide billowy sleeves and was pulled in at the waist with what looked like a swashbuckling belt of soft worn black leather. He was sporting a leather tunic which looked antique. Parts of it were torn and there were small shells and feathers sewn on here and there. Coriander brought Rose out of her trance, "when did you move in?" she asked. Rose noticed that even though Coriander was of a much paler complexion than her brother she had the same thick dark lashes. Rose found the pair very easy to get along with, she told them when she moved in, told them where she came from and she told them about her problem with the central heating.
While she was talking she discreetly took in her surroundings. The walls were covered in pieces of artwork, sketches, collages, unframed canvases stretched and tacked to the wall, silk paintings which had become homemade lampshades and obscene clay sculptures had become ashtrays and kitchen towel holders. There were two large African drums over by the window and a guitar on the sofa.
Smoke hung in the air and Rose spied what looked like a hookah from Alice's Wonderland on the table.
Rosewood explained that the banging central heating thing was no problem and that it happened when the system had been switched off for a prolonged period of time, "old pipes" the pair said in unison.
When they spoke in unison, which was often, Rose noticed that their voices seemed like one voice with many nuances.
She went out on a limb, "are you twins?" she asked. The pair erupted with laughter, which again sounded as though it were coming from one throat. Rose began to laugh too as their laughter was addictive, and to an outsider looking in it would seem as though Rose had been puffing away on the hookah pipe with her new neighbors.
Rose felt entirely at home, she was invited to sit down on the big, afghan covered, sofa and she accepted a cup of "bancha" tea which Rosewood offered her. "Do you play the guitar?" she asked Coriander who was sitting across from Rose on a small wooden stool. Rosewood reached over and took the guitar from the sofa and began to play. He stared into Rose's eyes as he gently plucked at the strings and Rose remembered the old song "Strumming My Pain With His Fingers". After he played a couple of bars on the guitar Coriander started to sing, Rosewood sang in harmony. Rose began to feel as if she were in the presence of angels, she felt hairs standing on the back of her neck. Cory's voice was wild and free and had a husky tone to it that gave it great resonance. Rosewoods voice was a tenor and was as clear and sweet as anything Rose had ever heard. It took all Rose's strength to hold back the tears that she could feel rising, and she was certain that the lump she felt in her throat was clearly visible to anybody who cared to notice.