Mrs Needham
Title: Mrs Needham
Pairing/Characters: Mrs Needham (OC) Matt/Becker
Genre: humour
Rating: 15 for some swearages but nothing too bad.
Spoilers: Originally intended to be a part of my chapter "So Tell Me Future Boy" but it didn't fit. No spoilers really.
Summary: An elderly lady keeps an eye on her neighbours and their guests.
Author's Note: As mentioned, this was originally written in my chapter "So Tell me Future Boy" but it really didn't fit in with the rest of it. Also a chat on PD about the character's homes inspired me to change it and make it a more stand alone story. This has been beta'd by fredbassett but any mistakes or things are my own not hers. Enjoy this sillyness and lemme know what you thinks! Much appreciation! (Also another curse at the damned LJ cut not cutting!!) Grrrr!
It was a quiet Thursday evening and Mrs Phillipa Needham was watching one of the game shows on television. On the little table next to her armchair were a cup of really strong tea and a couple of digestive biscuits resting on the saucer.
She loved a cup of tea, you really couldn’t get better.
Mrs Needham picked up the cup, answered one of the questions from the quiz before the contestant did and took a slow sip of the tea, relishing the beverage. She put the cup down, answered another question, picked up a biscuit, dunked it in the tea and allowed the soggy biscuit to break off sweetly in her mouth.
Just as she settled the tea back down on the table, she heard a sound coming from another part of the building. Mrs Needham sat up straighter, muted the television and listened. There was music and a chorus of laughter. Mrs Needham smiled.
18.30 - Genny Marks from flat 7 is getting ready to go out with her friends. Lady Gaga playing on her i-pod, wine being opened… drinking has commenced.
“Good for you, love. You deserve a break.”
Immediately after, Mrs Needham heard the sound of the front door buzzer. She got up and walked as quickly as she could to her own front door. Judging by the time, it should be Harry from flat 6 back from work. Unlike the others in this apartment he always kept a regular schedule. He would also wait a moment in the hall way just so Mrs Needham could check. Sure enough, when she looked through the peephole, there was the middle-aged man, still in uniform, smiling and waving.
“Hello, Mrs Needham!”
“Hello, luv!”
Harry blew her a sweet and lovely kiss and entered his home. Mrs Needham returned to her chair. She unmuted the telly and continued to outdo the brainless contestants on the game show, at the same time finishing off her tea and biscuits and keeping a log of her neighbours coming and goings.
It was what she did. All her neighbours knew it and wouldn’t really have it any other way.
19.00 - The Willows from flat 4 left. Not for recreational purposes. The speed with which they ran down the stairs meant something serious… something to do with their work, which in itself was not unusual either. They were constantly on the move; they hardly spent any time at home.
19.17 - Young Danny at number 2 was starting up his experiments again… the soundproofing in his flat did wonders, but Mrs Needham could still hear the machines, along with the now familiar riffs of the band Metallica.
19.35 - Sophie from flat 3 started doing her step aerobic exercises.
19.50- The Peterson man from flat 1 left for work. His team mate on the radio sounded quite desperate.
But it was the sound of the buzzer going off at 20.00 hours exactly that made Mrs Needham mute one of her crime dramas and hobble over to the peephole. She couldn’t see anyone, but they probably hadn’t got all the way up stairs. She opened the door when at last she heard the sound of approaching feet.
The seventy-five year old lady was pleasantly surprised to see a young man in his thirties walking up the stairs. He was very handsome, dressed in jeans with a brown leather jacket and a blue denim shirt over a t-shirt. In his hand, he carried a six pack of beer. She picked up no immediate threat from him and smiled.
“Hi. How are you doing?”
Ooh! Irish! Very nice!
Mrs Needham nodded and watched as he continued to climb the stairs. It didn’t take long for her to work out who he was going to see.
As Genny Marks and her friends came down, all five of them smitten by the Irishman judging by their giggles and glances up the stairwell, Mrs Needham went back inside and closed the door. She stayed standing and listened. She heard the Irishman singing, proclaiming that he had beer, but then he stopped.
“I suppose I could pass one about! But as it’s just me here… I’ll drink it all myself.” his lovely accented voice called out when his singing didn’t get the response he wanted.
The Irishman was different from the other visitors. He wasn’t family, or any of the Saturday rugby group that came along, so she figured he was a work colleague. Satisfied with her deduction, Mrs Needham went back to her television.
It was an hour and 45 minutes later that she heard the banging and crashing. Mrs Needham frowned and got to her feet. She walked over to her cabinet and got what she needed before heading out of the door. Looking over the banister she saw Danny and Sophie had already come out of their own flats, disturbed by the sounds.
Harry had as well, but all three of them allowed Mrs Needham to go up the stairs, watching her back as she did so. The sounds were getting worse, but it was clear a fight was going on. She heard grunts and cries and then the sound of glass breaking. It sounded very vicious.
Mrs Needham took a few deep breaths and then pounded as hard as her frail hand could on the door.
“Hilary! Hilary, sweetheart? It’s Mrs Needham! Are you okay?”
The fighting instantly stopped after what sounded like a table breaking. There was a scrambling sound and then Mrs Needham gasped. The language was quite foul.
“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Oh fucking hell!”
She scowled and pounded on the door again.
“Hilary! Tell me you’re okay or I will call the ARC!”
There was the sound of laughter from behind the door.
“Mrs Needham! You don’t need to call my work! Everything is fine!”
The voice on the other side of the door was angry, but Mrs Needham could tell it was trying hard to be all nice and polite for her.
“Hilary… I heard some awful noises! Are you being attacked? I have my gun!” Mrs Needham gripped her weapon tightly in one steady hand.
“A gun? The sweet little old lady has a gun? Jesus, Becker!”
“Matt, don’t! Just don’t! That sweet little old lady isn’t merely a sweet little old lady! She doesn’t need a gun to kill you, she can do that with just her little finger! Why else does she live in this building?”
“Oh… crap!”
“Yeah! So just don’t say anything!”
The door opened just a little crack and Captain Hilary Becker peered out. He smiled as politely as he could.
His hair was ruffled, he had blood trickling from his nose and his t-shirt was ripped. As she angled her head, Mrs Needham saw that the half-naked Irishman behind him looked a bit beaten up as well.
Captain Becker smiled a bit more forcefully, as he was clearly embarrassed.
“Hi Mrs Needham. Er… I’m not being attacked, nor is this building under threat in any way. I’m doing some cleaning and I have to throw a lot of things out, that’s all. So there’s no need for the gun. I’m fine and please… we don’t need another situation like the grenade incident.”
Ah. That poor burglar, he really shouldn’t have tried to break into a block of flats occupied by special government and military employees, though the refurbishment was a godsend after the explosion.
“Doing a spot of cleaning, are you?” It was a lame excuse and she wondered why Becker bothered to lie to her. Surely he knew who she used to work for. “Do you need some help, love?”
“No!” Becker shook his head. “I’m… I’m okay. I… I have a friend round.”
“Ah! A friend! Is that what you call him?” She couldn’t help but smile as the red flushed over Becker’s face. It seemed his friend found it funny as well as she heard him muffle an amused snigger. “Boys, whatever you choose to do… cleaning or otherwise… you’re not going to cause trouble for the rest of us…. are you?”
There was a slight threatening tone in her voice.
“No, Mrs Needham. We’re not going to be causing any trouble.” Becker relaxed a little bit. “Please accept my apologies for disturbing you and the others. Thank you for being concerned.”
“Neighbours have to look out for each other, Hilary. Especially people like us. ”
“I know and I will.”
“Good. Now, you and your friend take care.” Mrs Needham tucked her gun in the large pocket of her cardigan and took one more look at both the men. She sighed. “Oh, Hilary?”
“Yes, Mrs Needham?”
“I’m pleased for you. I hope your friendship lasts with him.”
Becker seemed genuinely pleased by her blessing. He nodded his thanks and so too did the Irishman. Becker went to close the door, but she pointed a wrinkly finger directly at him, which froze him in his tracks.
“Don’t you dare use that foul language again! There’s no need for it! Is that understood?”
“Yes, Mrs Needham. Sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Mrs Needham!” The Irishman called out.
She waved at both of the men and headed towards the edge of the stairs to give the others the all clear.
She heard the door to Captain Becker’s flat close. She waited and listened for a while with an amused smile on her face. Their playful arguing lasted for about another five minutes and the fighting started again after the sound of a door breaking. Mrs Needham slowly walked back to her apartment, and grabbed her coat before addressing Harry and taking hold of his arm.
“Harry, let’s go and get some fresh air. I have a feeling Captain Becker will be cleaning for some time. Bless him.”