The Man Next Door

Chapter One: London Bound

 My arrival to Great Britain came on March 31st, 1941; three months prior to Hitler's air raids. In those three months leading to the end of the year, my life would change quite spectacularly due to the man next door. I suppose I should start at the very beginning though, right to when I first stepped off the train into King's Cross Station.

Steam billowed around me as passengers made their ways on and off the railroad car; all walks of life with bags and parcels in hand. My own carpet bag in mine I made my way out of the station into the mild weather and bustling crowds of London. Keeping a firm grip on my belongings I walked stiffly through the hustling passerby's, bumping shoulders every so often to many people's annoyance. I didn't mind or care however, as their own destinations and business were of no importance to me. I kept my eyesight straight ahead and my posture clean and neat, just as I had always seen and observed other businessmen do. I resisted the urge to run a slim hand through my recently shorn locks of brown hair, a nervous habit I had acquired at a young age. Instead I pulled my trench coat tighter around my slender frame and white button down shirt. My pants were still looser around my middle than they were before my journey, but it didn't matter, I could stand to lose a few pounds. I quickly hailed a taxi and informed him of my location, Westminster.

“Westminster, eh? Well looks like you've got a few fine pennies if you're goin' to Westminster.” the cab driver said cheerfully. He bared yellow teeth at me through the cab window seperating our seats.

“Yes, and I'll pay double if you would just drive.” I snapped irritably, at which he merely shrugged and turned around muttering to himself.

“Fine by me, lass, no need ta get your britches in a knot.”

“I'm not a woman, I'm a man.” My voice became lower and darker and my heartbeat quickened.

The cabbie took a closer look at me before nodding and pulling into the lanes of traffic.

“Sorry, you jus' looked kind of feminine in the lighting, I guess. Sorry, fella.” I let out a soft sigh in relief.

“Just drive, please.” With that the motor car sped off through the streets, my eyes and mind wandered over this new city and al its wonders, lost within the mazes of stone and flesh; we did not talk for the rest of the drive.

A  half hour later I paid the man what I had promised and walked farther up the street. Being careful not to step in any mud puddles that dotted the cobblestone walkways of Westminster, I place I hoped would be my home. Upon seeing what looked to be my apartment, I was struck by how old it was, not unlikable in the least; it fit into the category of homely if I wanted to be completely honest. Knocking on the white, chipped paint of the door I got a good look at my surroundings. The building itself was three stories with bay windows and railings so any owner could walk outside and get a nice view of the area.

I snapped to attention when the door opened to reveal a woman ranging from the ages of forty to sixty. Her eyes were shallow but her face was warm and short, graying, blond hair framed her facial features.

“Hello, are you the recent owner of apartment 312B?” She asked kindly. I gave a curt nod and didn't dare to speak, afraid of how well this woman would be able to see right through me. It'd be safer not to have two scares in one day, my mind whispered. She smiled and motioned with a wrinkled hand to follow her. Stepping over the threshold I made my way farther in and shut the door before following my landlady up three flights of stairs, all the while listening to her speaking.

“We have a lovely cafe that opens at six and closes at nine," My stomach growled at the thought of food, "...and you'll find that on the first floor past the stairs on your left. I do have a curfew that I require all attendants to be back here by ten or I will lock you out, no ifs, ands, or buts. Also, the bathroom is just back down the hallway to your right.”  She finished before stopping in front of a door, presumably my own. Turning the key she opened the door to reveal a small, humble housing. The bay window was open and I could smell the smoky breeze of London blowing through. A bed was placed near a small writing desk while a moderately large cabinet stood opposite the two pieces of furniture. The walls were painted a soft blue lined with white and wooden floorboards covered the floor and completed the room.

“I hope it's to your liking, Mr.?”

“Andrews, my name is Gatsby Andrews and the room is lovely, thank you.” I answer calmly, my eyes still surveying my home and drinking it all to memory.

“Well, Mr. Andrews,” and I can hear the smile in her voice, “my name is Juniper Owens, if you need anything I'm just downstairs. I hope you have a pleasant evening.” And with that she closed the door, left the key on the dresser.I hesitantly removed my trench coat and vest before starting with the buttons of my shirt, exposing the tight wrappings around my breasts. As I was nearing the bottom of my shirt the door opened once more and I nearly ripped the cloth in half trying to conceal my secret once more before turning around to face Ms. Owens in the doorway.

“Oh, sorry, dear, I just wanted to add that you might want to be careful around your next door neighbor, Mr. Daniel Harris. He's quite...” she waved her hand looking for an appropriate word, “eccentric.” She finished. I nodded, silently counting the seconds in order to slow my heart rate. "Yes, verywell." I grind out.

 “Right then, I'll leave you be.” She left once more and I lunged towards the door as soon as she was gone, locking it and breathing a sigh of relief. Stripping my shirt off I undid the strips of cloth on my chest and let my skin breathe for the first time in two weeks. I had finally made it.