Our neighbour got arrested yesterday morning. They had been having another argument, the highs, lows and general gist of which was filtered down through the paper-thin ex-council flat walls into our bedroom. He was yelling again and she was angry, resigned. Neither seemed particularly concerned at the noise or intensity generated by their argument.
*Must insert a brief backstory here to give this argument some context- the neighbours' fights are almost a weekly or twice weekly occurrence. He is always very loud and she slams doors, treads in high heels, yells back. Once early on we thought it sounded violent and so, doing the neighbourly thing, we approached their door with concern on our faces, only to be meet with smiles and jokes by both. She looked dazed ('drugs' sidekick assumed confidently), whilst he seemed pleased with the attention they were getting from their neighbours). End of backstory.
Except this time , their raised voices were followed by the thuds of two pairs of feet treading the stairs upwards. Next we heard the neighbours' voices raising another octave at the sight of the police, the high pleading of the woman with the police, the crackle of the police radios as they contacted 'sierra bravo octopus' or something similar, after which there was a pause. Sidekick and I were really both fully conscious by this stage, though refusing to believe it and trying vainly to fall back into heavy early morning sleep.
The loud upstairs charade progressed as more pairs of feet went upstairs, a shuffle, quiet, then voices and stomping as many more feet came down. Sidekick rushed to the window in pyjamas and noted the old bill had come to 'cart her off'.
"What only her?" was my sleepy reply. 'What about him?"
That afternoon on re-entering our flat the same noises radiated from upstairs- his loud voice, her pleadings, whinings. She had already been released. All in a day's work really. London moves on.
