Janice heard the clack of the letter box, noticing with annoyance that overnight someone had thrown another piece of rusty junk onto the weedy patch, which was laughably called the front garden.
If only the landlord would put up a proper fence, people might stop using my garden as a free dump, she thought as she unfolded the paper.
‘Why don’t you move out? Surely you don’t belong here?’
Janice was stunned. One of her neighbours had sent this, but the only person she could see was the rather nice man from next door, coming down his path.
‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’
Could he have written this anonymous note? His own garden was beautifully kept, but that wasn’t a priority for her right now. Every spare minute was spent with the twins or on the computer.
When Jack and Harriet were born, Janice had started working from home, designing pamphlets and flyers. Whenever the twins were asleep she snatched a few minutes to work and her list of satisfied customers was growing nicely, although some nights she worked past midnight to meet a deadline.
She picked up the empty takeaway containers, then she heard Harriet crying and hurried inside. She’d just have to live with the garden the way it was for a bit longer, and so would the anonymous letter writer.
In the blissful half-hour that both twins were asleep at the same time, Janice finished the pamphlets for the local hardware shop and made a start on the weeds. As she was cramming some nettles into a plastic bag, Mrs Phillips who lived opposite came across. Her dour face creased into a smile.
This story is from the May 2020 edition of Womans Weekly Fiction Special.
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This story is from the May 2020 edition of Womans Weekly Fiction Special.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
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