All hands ON DECK!

Mr Dear helps out Jane next door – again

Mr Dear could not have looked more shifty if he’d been spotted outside a jeweller’s shop at midnight in a Sid James mask, a striped top, and carrying a large sack marked with the word ÔSwag’.

And it was such a simple question too. ‘Hello, dear,’

I’d said as he appeared at the breakfast table. ‘What are you up to today then?

Got any plans?’

You could virtually see the cogs ticking over in what passes for his brain. ‘Nothing special,’ he said. ‘Although Jane asked if I’d give her a hand with some jobs around the house.’

‘Oh, she did, did she?’ ‘Yes,’ he said, staring into a packet of Alpen. ‘She needs a bit of flooring done.’

‘That’s a polite word for what Jane needs.’

To anybody who is sitting in a dentist’s waiting room and flicking through this magazine for the first time, I should explain that Jane is our new next-door neighbour. She and her husband separated during a dispute about naturism, and I once came home from a walk in the park to find her in my kitchen, cooking a Victoria sponge.

That’s all you need to know to understand why I regard Jane with some suspicion.

That and the way she dresses – like somebody who tells fortunes at a village fete.

However, Mr Dear has a more generous nature. If a neighbour is in need, he rallies round. When we ran a hardware shop, he would often be late home because he’d called in to change a light bulb for an old lady. Or perhaps a fuse.

So when Jane asked him to suggest somebody who might put down a laminate floor, he immediately told her not to bother with that expense, as he could do it for her. I have to report that Mr D, to my certain knowledge, has never previously put down a laminate floor.

‘I have seen it done, though,’ he said when I mentioned this. ‘So it can’t be that difficult.’

We ate in silence for a while. It is sometimes difficult for a wife to accept that her husband is installing another woman’s laminate flooring. Then a thought struck me. (Note to first-time readers: this occasionally happens.)

‘Tell you what,’ I said. ‘I’ll give you a hand.’

‘Oh, there’s really no need for that.’

‘Nonsense. You’ll probably

‘We arrived clutching tools of the laminated flooring trade’

need a bit of help – I can’t imagine that Jane is especially practical.’

No, definitely not practical. She does have one essential skill, though – uncannily persuading other people, men mainly, to pop round and help out. Remember our neighbour Carolyn’s new boyfriend, Andy? He’s been round to seal her shower and fix a damp patch in her utility room. Despite being a builder, he refused to charge her (although she gave Carolyn a couple of bottles of wine).

I could understand it if Jane looked like Nigella Lawson or Gwyneth Paltrow. I’ll bet Gwyneth never has to seal her own shower. But Jane just looks like somebody who sits next to you on the bus and, even though you are very obviously staring out of the window to avoid making eye contact, won’t stop talking to you.

We arrived clutching spirit levels, Stanley knives, a soft hammer and other tools of the laminated flooring trade. To be honest, Jane didn’t seem very pleased to see me.

There is a comedy sketch – The Two Ronnies, I think – in which a waiter attends to a man and his wife. ‘You’re sweet, my lady,’ he says to the wife. ‘Your nuts, sir,’ he says to the man. ‘Oh, and your crackers.’

Jane attempted this in real life. ‘I’ve bought you some tea, Tom,’ she said, smiling sweetly, as we set about putting down the underlay. ‘And I’ve put some biscuits on a plate. I assumed you didn’t want biscuits, Rosie.’ Your Nice, sir. Your nuts, madam.

Perhaps it was this that soured the atmosphere. Or perhaps husbands and wives should simply not attempt to lay a laminate floor when they have never done it before. It took us two hours to get the bit around the door right. And when we’d finally got it right, we realised we hadn’t left enough of a gap for the wood to expand. So it actually wasn’t right after all.

‘I told you,’ Mr D whispered, furiously.

‘If you’re so clever, you can ruddy well do it on your own,’ I said, slightly more furiously. Attempting to make a dramatic exit, I stood on a stray piece of laminate and slid across the room before falling over.

Jane 1, Rosemary 0. Rosie x