174. Neighbours (2)

'Test papers!'

That kicks my sleepy brain into wake mode. 

Test papers! Oh no! If I do not hurry the whole town is going to find out I chucked my students' exams papers into the recycling bin! 

Oh. My. God.

I swallow the rest of the coffee and I get up, screaming.

'BABY!'

I literally storm into the kitchen, rummage around for the brush and pan, dive under the sink to retrieve a heavy duty bin liner and head off towards the front door - the broomstick held up in front of me in my right hand like a sword, in my left the bin liner floating like a buccaneer's flag. I eventually reach the front door and the disaster's scene feeling like some heroic female pirate. 

The street is uncannily quiet. The morning sun is already high up over the buildings. The sky is a clear bright blue. Not a soul around. Disappointingly normal. No flames. Not even a plume of smoke! No-one taking pictures. No-one gossiping around the remains of my bins. All is quiet and nobody seems to give a toss about my problem. Even the neighbours have gone! 

I am just about to shove everything - including the incriminating test papers - in the bin bag so we can all forget about this most unfortunate event when I suddenly come to a halt. Something feels wrong. In police and detective series people never ever interfere with the evidence, they always leave the crime scene as it is for the police to deal with it. They put colourful ribbons all around it. Now I regret not pinching some of colourful tape and arrows stickers from work. I come to my senses and I realise - thank goodness - that I need to call the police. 

I painfully balance the heavy duty broom, the dustpan and the bin liner to hide the test papers and I go back inside to make the phone call.

I am calling the police.  This sends a feeling of satisfaction rushing through me. I am a respectable and responsible member of the community. I feel important but I am not sure the community understands how lucky they are to have someone like me amongst them.

'Little-Town's police station. Here to help. ... Please speak.'

I cannot speak I am so excited. A deep male police voice on the other end of the line, speaking to me! To me personally! Me, the responsible community member! I feel excited about this; it really is like being in a movie. I am hesitating. Who should I be? The young freaking-out stay-at-home mother from Beverly Hills or the cool professional workaholic from Boston ... 

'Speak please.'

This guy is definitely not in a movie. So very quickly I make up my mind and go for the cool workaholic. I figure this persona might rub on me and my students will really be impressed when schools start again.

'Hello! Just calling in to report a fire.'

'A fire?' 

He does sound interested! I can tell by the tone of his voice. This is an excellent movie. The police man at the other end of the line is almost in a panic yet I am keeping my cool and really building my character here.

'Have you called the fire brigade?' I hear the urgency in his voice. 

'It's ok. Actually ... the fire is dying out. Actually it is completely out ...  Bin bags have been set on fire ... full of recyclable items.'

I stress the word recyclable as this seems to me the real dramatic point of the situation. Not only am I a respectable community member I am also responsible on the planetary level. Yet I feel he is a more here and now kind of guy.

'My neighbour's wall is damaged, all burned and black and blistered.' I add quickly. This does it. 

'All right. We are sending a car. Three minutes.'

Cool! I am back in the movie.