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Authors: Josephine Myles
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Chapter Nine
Clearing out the boat took the best part of an hour, and after Smutty had finished it looked like he’d set up a junk yard on the side of the canal. To think Grouch left all this crap on the boat, but he’d taken his fire extinguisher with him, the tight git. Smutty sighed at the assorted detritus, trying to see the potential in the assorted hunks of broken machinery and warped lengths of timber. Ballast and fuel was about the best his mind could stretch to.
Maybe an artist would do better, seeing the broken bits and pieces as the component parts of a sculpture. But Smutty was a gardener. And now he had a garden to look after.
He set off up to the house with a spring in his step. The grass in the orchard was still wet with dew and his trousers ended up soaked from the knees down, but it was another beautiful morning so who gave a monkey’s about wet legs? It was definitely time to look for a scythe in Giles’s tool shed, though. That would be his first job of the day.
Right after checking in on Giles.
Smutty tried the kitchen door and it opened, just as Giles had promised. He called out, but the house was too still, too full of echoes to contain another living being. He experienced a brief twinge of disappointment at seeing the note on the kitchen table, weighed down with a bottle of bleach, but shrugged it off again. It was sweet of Giles to think of him.
The paper was thick and probably cost a bomb, but Giles’s handwriting was
surprisingly sloppy considering how uptight the man could be. Smutty paused for a moment before reading, wondering if Starlight would claim to be able to read something significant in the chaotic spikes and loops.
I have to run some errands. Feel free to borrow any cleaning equipment you need.
You’ll find it all either under the sink or in the walk-in cupboard next to the fridge. The shower’s upstairs if you need it. See you later. G.
PS – Thanks for last night.
There was another line crossed out after the last sentence, but try as he might, Smutty couldn’t decipher it. He smiled to himself as he tucked the note into his pocket and looked around the spacious kitchen. So he’d been given free access to the house? Well, the cleaning cupboards and the shower, anyway. Maybe Giles simply wanted him to scrub up—him and
his dirty old boat. He’d noticed Giles’s lip curl with disgust when looking around Freya . No wonder, really, when you saw the squeaky clean conditions the bloke lived in. You could probably eat your dinner off those flagstones—not that he’d want to. The heavy oak table and chairs looked an awful lot more comfortable. Sturdy enough for all kinds of recreational activities, no doubt. He wondered if Giles and that racist ex of his had ever put them through their paces, or if they still needed christening. Maybe they could do it later.
Shaking the fantasy out of his head and smiling, Smutty began looking through
Giles’s kitchen for the things he needed. There was no call for harsh chemicals if he could locate some vinegar, lemons and baking soda. Cleaning first, then gardening, then a shower, then Giles would be back and they could look into that kitchen table option a little more seriously.
Smutty sang to himself as set about his chores.
***
The sun was high by the time Smutty finished the pathway. It meandered through the
overgrown lawn, cutting a swathe through the lush grass all the way from the back of the house to the canal. He rested the scythe against one of the apple trees and watched as a tiny blue butterfly danced among the wildflowers. The longer Giles left this as meadow, the more diverse the species would become.
Smutty wondered what his chances were of persuading Giles to give his lawn over to
the wild, or if his next command would be for Smutty to mow the whole lot down into golf-course blandness. The man clearly didn’t realise what he had here. Smutty calculated there were close on two acres of grounds with a
Chapter Nine
Clearing out the boat took the best part of an hour, and after Smutty had finished it looked like he’d set up a junk yard on the side of the canal. To think Grouch left all this crap on the boat, but he’d taken his fire extinguisher with him, the tight git. Smutty sighed at the assorted detritus, trying to see the potential in the assorted hunks of broken machinery and warped lengths of timber. Ballast and fuel was about the best his mind could stretch to.
Maybe an artist would do better, seeing the broken bits and pieces as the component parts of a sculpture. But Smutty was a gardener. And now he had a garden to look after.
He set off up to the house with a spring in his step. The grass in the orchard was still wet with dew and his trousers ended up soaked from the knees down, but it was another beautiful morning so who gave a monkey’s about wet legs? It was definitely time to look for a scythe in Giles’s tool shed, though. That would be his first job of the day.
Right after checking in on Giles.
Smutty tried the kitchen door and it opened, just as Giles had promised. He called out, but the house was too still, too full of echoes to contain another living being. He experienced a brief twinge of disappointment at seeing the note on the kitchen table, weighed down with a bottle of bleach, but shrugged it off again. It was sweet of Giles to think of him.
The paper was thick and probably cost a bomb, but Giles’s handwriting was
surprisingly sloppy considering how uptight the man could be. Smutty paused for a moment before reading, wondering if Starlight would claim to be able to read something significant in the chaotic spikes and loops.
I have to run some errands. Feel free to borrow any cleaning equipment you need.
You’ll find it all either under the sink or in the walk-in cupboard next to the fridge. The shower’s upstairs if you need it. See you later. G.
PS – Thanks for last night.
There was another line crossed out after the last sentence, but try as he might, Smutty couldn’t decipher it. He smiled to himself as he tucked the note into his pocket and looked around the spacious kitchen. So he’d been given free access to the house? Well, the cleaning cupboards and the shower, anyway. Maybe Giles simply wanted him to scrub up—him and
his dirty old boat. He’d noticed Giles’s lip curl with disgust when looking around Freya . No wonder, really, when you saw the squeaky clean conditions the bloke lived in. You could probably eat your dinner off those flagstones—not that he’d want to. The heavy oak table and chairs looked an awful lot more comfortable. Sturdy enough for all kinds of recreational activities, no doubt. He wondered if Giles and that racist ex of his had ever put them through their paces, or if they still needed christening. Maybe they could do it later.
Shaking the fantasy out of his head and smiling, Smutty began looking through
Giles’s kitchen for the things he needed. There was no call for harsh chemicals if he could locate some vinegar, lemons and baking soda. Cleaning first, then gardening, then a shower, then Giles would be back and they could look into that kitchen table option a little more seriously.
Smutty sang to himself as set about his chores.
***
The sun was high by the time Smutty finished the pathway. It meandered through the
overgrown lawn, cutting a swathe through the lush grass all the way from the back of the house to the canal. He rested the scythe against one of the apple trees and watched as a tiny blue butterfly danced among the wildflowers. The longer Giles left this as meadow, the more diverse the species would become.
Smutty wondered what his chances were of persuading Giles to give his lawn over to
the wild, or if his next command would be for Smutty to mow the whole lot down into golf-course blandness. The man clearly didn’t realise what he had here. Smutty calculated there were close on two acres of grounds with a
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