Monday, 13 April 2015


Neighbours call her ‘Miss Nosey’. From her first floor flat across the street from me, I know that Miss Kaye spends hours at her lookout window. She knows who walks by; owners of the cats and dogs; days for recycle bins, and litter droppers on our street.  A new litterbin is now in place. But when she tells Numbers 130 and 134 to take better care of their roses, she has gone too far.

 Five months ago Mrs. Parks, our octogenarian who lives in the flat below, fell. Miss Kaye called the ambulance and saved her life.  She nurses wounded birds and buries dead ones. When she can’t sleep, she looks out her front window. Trouble disturbs her.

In the middle of Saturday night, I heard screeching brakes, doors bang, and a woman screaming.  I stayed in bed. Miss Kaye, so I heard later, was at her window where she watched two men jerk a woman out of their van. As the men dragged the victim to the curb, Miss Kaye dialed 999 and opened her window. One man shook his fist at her.  She shook hers back at him.

Moments later a heavy boot kicked Miss Kaye’s door.  The wounded victim cursed the men.  A police car roared in front of the van to block it.

Reading the Press Monday, six of her near neighbours showed Miss Kaye appreciation with flowers, pet food, and a soapy water to wash her door.  I invited her to dinner with her close neighbours to thank her for policing our street.  

Over coffee Miss Kaye announced, ‘I have sold my flat and plan to move in a few  days.’

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