Read Online Nailed by the Heart by Simon Clark - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Simon Clark
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demanded.
"Helping
you."
"You
can't, Ruth. This is-"
"Man's
work? We're doing this together. I do what you do."
He
looked across at his wife and not for the first time in the last few
days he found himself loving her in a way that was new and deeper
than ever before. What wouldn't she selflessly sacrifice for him?
They
worked together, clearing the next room in half an hour. The dust
made Chris's throat paper-dry, and when he sneezed it left a black
splotch in his handkerchief.
The
next room held all the old internal doors. Drabgreen painted things
that had warped over the years.
"This
is the only room that smells damp," said Ruth, tugging at the
first door. It bore the legend CO. KNOCK AND WAIT in white letters.
He
sniffed. A faint smell of mushrooms. "It doesn't seem too bad.
We'll get the architect to stick the damp meter on the walls."
"Chris!"
He
dropped the door he was carrying. It fell with a painfully loud
crash. "What's wrong!"
"Quick."
"Jesus,
Ruth, I thought you'd hurt yourself."
Ruth
grinned. "It looks as if we've got a sitting tenant."
"Christ
... Not rats."
"Not
animal. Vegetable. See for yourself."
Behind
the door was an ancient ceramic sink. But it was what was in the
sink, beneath a single dripping tap, that she had seen. There in the
bowl bloomed a mass of green leaves.
"A
bush?"
"Not
any old bush." She reached into the green mass that looked as if
it was exploding out of the sink and snapped off a thick white shoot.
"Look." She bit a chunk off and chewed it.
"Ruth?"
She
smiled. "It's celery. Here, have a bit."
"Celery
fits into the palm of your hand." He ran his hand through the
verdant growth. "This'll fill a wheelbarrow. How the hell did it
get here?"
"One
of the builders years ago. Probably had a celery fetish and left it
in the sink with some water to keep it fresh. And it just grew and
grew." She held out the stalk for him to bite. "Guess what
we'll be having for tea for the next three years."
He
bit. The white flesh was crisp and surprisingly sweet.
The
mother of all celery plants took some shifting. The thick bole from
where the shoots sprang had swollen over the years to fill the sink.
It was like trying to prise a fat man from a too-small bath.
"The
sink will have to go anyway." He smashed the china bowl. "Shit."
A small rush of water ran over his shoes. "Now will you look at
that."
Her
eyes widened. "It's filled it." Like a jelly poured into a
mold the celery had grown hard against every contour of the sink. It
had even grown around the sink chain which disappeared into the
plant. The plug itself must have been surrounded by layer after layer
of celery stalks somewhere in the celery heart.
It
took another five minutes of prising and swearing before it released
its embrace on the sink. With a crisp snapping sound it came loose
suddenly, throwing him off balance. "Jesus ... That's heavy."
He heaved the monster plant into the wheelbarrow.
"Just
a minute." She snapped some of the smaller stalks from the heart
of the plant. "I'll make lunch."
"Resourceful.
Now if you can knock together a few four-poster beds out of those old
doors and ammo boxes, we've got it made."
He
wheeled the barrow out to the skip. Without the sides of the sink
holding it tightly in place, the plant had flopped outward in a spray
of white rubbery stalks that moved in the breeze. Now, for all the
world, it looked like some species of huge albino spider. He covered
the monster plant with the doors, then went back to move the last
piece of junk from the room-a wooden straightbacked chair. It stood
in the damp dirt by the sink. When he tried to move it, it wouldn't
budge. When he forced it, it gave with the same crisp crack he had
heard earlier when he prised the celery from the sink.
Instinctively,
he knew what he would find when he looked more closely at the raw
glistening feet of the chair.
It
had taken root in the floor. He ran his fingers across the four
snapped
"Helping
you."
"You
can't, Ruth. This is-"
"Man's
work? We're doing this together. I do what you do."
He
looked across at his wife and not for the first time in the last few
days he found himself loving her in a way that was new and deeper
than ever before. What wouldn't she selflessly sacrifice for him?
They
worked together, clearing the next room in half an hour. The dust
made Chris's throat paper-dry, and when he sneezed it left a black
splotch in his handkerchief.
The
next room held all the old internal doors. Drabgreen painted things
that had warped over the years.
"This
is the only room that smells damp," said Ruth, tugging at the
first door. It bore the legend CO. KNOCK AND WAIT in white letters.
He
sniffed. A faint smell of mushrooms. "It doesn't seem too bad.
We'll get the architect to stick the damp meter on the walls."
"Chris!"
He
dropped the door he was carrying. It fell with a painfully loud
crash. "What's wrong!"
"Quick."
"Jesus,
Ruth, I thought you'd hurt yourself."
Ruth
grinned. "It looks as if we've got a sitting tenant."
"Christ
... Not rats."
"Not
animal. Vegetable. See for yourself."
Behind
the door was an ancient ceramic sink. But it was what was in the
sink, beneath a single dripping tap, that she had seen. There in the
bowl bloomed a mass of green leaves.
"A
bush?"
"Not
any old bush." She reached into the green mass that looked as if
it was exploding out of the sink and snapped off a thick white shoot.
"Look." She bit a chunk off and chewed it.
"Ruth?"
She
smiled. "It's celery. Here, have a bit."
"Celery
fits into the palm of your hand." He ran his hand through the
verdant growth. "This'll fill a wheelbarrow. How the hell did it
get here?"
"One
of the builders years ago. Probably had a celery fetish and left it
in the sink with some water to keep it fresh. And it just grew and
grew." She held out the stalk for him to bite. "Guess what
we'll be having for tea for the next three years."
He
bit. The white flesh was crisp and surprisingly sweet.
The
mother of all celery plants took some shifting. The thick bole from
where the shoots sprang had swollen over the years to fill the sink.
It was like trying to prise a fat man from a too-small bath.
"The
sink will have to go anyway." He smashed the china bowl. "Shit."
A small rush of water ran over his shoes. "Now will you look at
that."
Her
eyes widened. "It's filled it." Like a jelly poured into a
mold the celery had grown hard against every contour of the sink. It
had even grown around the sink chain which disappeared into the
plant. The plug itself must have been surrounded by layer after layer
of celery stalks somewhere in the celery heart.
It
took another five minutes of prising and swearing before it released
its embrace on the sink. With a crisp snapping sound it came loose
suddenly, throwing him off balance. "Jesus ... That's heavy."
He heaved the monster plant into the wheelbarrow.
"Just
a minute." She snapped some of the smaller stalks from the heart
of the plant. "I'll make lunch."
"Resourceful.
Now if you can knock together a few four-poster beds out of those old
doors and ammo boxes, we've got it made."
He
wheeled the barrow out to the skip. Without the sides of the sink
holding it tightly in place, the plant had flopped outward in a spray
of white rubbery stalks that moved in the breeze. Now, for all the
world, it looked like some species of huge albino spider. He covered
the monster plant with the doors, then went back to move the last
piece of junk from the room-a wooden straightbacked chair. It stood
in the damp dirt by the sink. When he tried to move it, it wouldn't
budge. When he forced it, it gave with the same crisp crack he had
heard earlier when he prised the celery from the sink.
Instinctively,
he knew what he would find when he looked more closely at the raw
glistening feet of the chair.
It
had taken root in the floor. He ran his fingers across the four
snapped
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