part0019

I t’s Saturday morning and I’m helping Flynn on a rush job again. Before I agreed to help I established beyond any reasonable doubt that it’s not posh blonde’s house – there’s no way I could go back there and face her after the wet knickers incident.

Flynn is helping a mate out who’s overstretched himself and didn’t want to turn this job down. Apparently, the owner is ‘an awkward sod’ as Flynn’s mate puts it, who won’t hesitate to punish him if it doesn’t get done by giving all of the work to someone else in the future so to prevent this from happening Flynn is doing the job for him.

The house isn’t very far away from Flynn’s – so if I get desperate and need the loo I can speed walk back home in about fifteen minutes. So this time I’ve covered all bases.

I enjoyed myself last time (apart from the knickers thing) and I’d do it for nothing but Flynn has insisted that he’s going to pay me even though I’ve said there’s no need. I’m going to put it towards my spending money for Australia.

We pull up outside the house and Flynn kills the engine. Sausage pulls his head up from between his paws and shuffles his feet on my lap, sniffs the air and obviously unimpressed, settles back down again. The house we’re outside of is much like Flynn’s place only smaller and without the bay windowed charm: a thirties end terrace with a small, walled front garden and narrow, mean looking windows.

The front door of the house is standing open and a burly, bald headed man comes out and approaches the truck as Flynn opens the door and jumps down.

‘You Flynn?’ he asks as he clacks gum around his mouth giving a glimpse of grey tombstone-like teeth. I can’t help staring at him, transfixed by the size of his earlobes, they’re possibly the biggest earlobes I’ve ever seen in my life. They stretch down from his ears like Dumbo’s, weighted down by the grubby looking gold hoops that are pushed through elongated pierced holes.

‘That’s me. You must be Bazza?’

Bazza doesn’t answer but turns to look me up and down as I clamber down from the seat and walk around the truck to join Flynn on the pavement, Sausage tucked underneath my arm.

‘Who’s this, your girlfriend?’ He snickers and nods at me. ‘The boss don’t like spectators on site, slows the work rate down.’

‘I’m not his girlfriend, I’m his assistant.’ I bristle.

‘Oh, yeah,’ he snorts, pointing at Sausage, ‘And I suppose that’s a gardener as well, is it?’ He roars with laughter at his own joke.

Flynn ignores him and strides to the back of the truck and starts unloading the tools onto the pavement. I follow him and stand awkwardly next to him, aware of Bazza’s eyes on my back.

‘What shall I do with Sausage? Have you got his lead?’ I don’t want to put him down in case he runs off. I also don’t trust Bazza; he’d probably slap him between two slices of bread and eat him if he got the chance.

‘Yeah, it’s in my pocket, carry him round the back and I’ll tie him up near us so he doesn’t run off.’

‘He wasn’t very friendly, was he?’ I say quietly. Flynn follows my eyes and studies the back of burly Bazza as he lumbers back into the house.

‘No,’ Flynn lowers his voice. ‘Bit of a shyster according to my mate. Bodgit and Scarper, strictly a cash in hand merchant. To be honest Bazza and his boss aren’t the sort of people I like to work with. Cut too many corners.’

Flynn picks up the tools and I manage to carry one spade tucked under my free arm and follow him into the front garden and down the slabbed path along the side of the house to the back garden. Long and narrow, the garden has a concrete path dissecting it into two halves, running from the back door to the rusty gate at the end. A patch of waist high grass covers one half and on the other side of the path are a jumble of brambles and weeds. I toss my spade onto the lawn and we walk to the end of the garden and stand back and look at the house.

‘So what’s the plan?’ I ask.

‘Cut the grass so it looks like a lawn and get rid of all the brambles and weeds. That’s it basically, bare minimum. Apparently they’ve got tenants moving in on Monday, HMO.’ Flynn looks in the direction of the house where the distant sound of hammering can be heard.

‘HMO?’ I say in surprise. ‘I thought these were two bedroomed houses. They don’t look very big.’ I’ve lived in plenty of shared houses so I know that most houses of multiple occupancy are at least four bedrooms.

‘It is only two bedrooms, Bazza in there is splitting the living room into two bedrooms so they can squeeze more people in. Get more rent out of them. Poor sods. From what my mate says they put coin meters in for the electric as well so they can make even more money.’

This happened in one of the houses that I lived in; I don’t even know if it’s legal but it’s easier to move than argue the point. I didn’t stay there long because I was frightened to put the heater on because I’d be feeding the meter with coins constantly and watching it whizz around at super speed. I silently thank my lucky stars that I don’t have to live somewhere like this anymore.

‘Glad I don’t have to live here,’ I say.

‘Me too.’ Flynn pulls Sausage’s lead out of his pocket and snaps it onto his collar and takes him off me and puts him on the floor and loops the lead over the gate post. Sausage doesn’t look very impressed at all and stands still and stares up at Flynn accusingly.

‘Won’t be for long, boy,’ Flynn says as he bends down and pats him on the head.

‘Liar,’ I say with a laugh.

‘Well, it’s not going to take that long.’ Flynn straightens up. ‘They’re paying for a basic job and that’s what they’ll be getting.’

‘What do you want me to do?’ I pull my heavy-duty gloves on – a pair I bought especially for the occasion so that they actually fit. I look at the tools assembled on the ground; two spades, heavy duty refuse sacks, garden shears with extra-long handles and a scary looking metal scythe,.

‘I’ll do the hacking and cutting and you can do the sweeping up and bagging. You could mow the lawn as well once I’ve cut it down a bit.’

Phew, that’s a relief. I know my limits and also how clumsy I am; the thought of a scythe or a strimmer in my hands is enough to bring me out in a cold sweat and any bystanders running for cover.

Flynn tackles the grass first and I stand and watch as he scythes expertly through the grass bringing it to a mow-able height. His practised movements make it look easy and I have to admire him; his well-muscled arms are easy on the eye and I think what a shame; if only.

He’s gay, barks the Beccabird, are you completely deluded?

No I’m not deluded, just saying, that’s all. A girl’s allowed a little daydream isn’t she?

In no time at all Flynn has finished the scything and he disappears out to the front garden to get the lawn mower from the truck. I start by sweeping all of the cuttings into a nice tidy mound and then mess it all up trying to get the cuttings into a sack. I settle into a rhythm of sweeping and shoving and it seems to be effective. I glance over at Sausage to check on him and see that he’s given up with the sulking and settled down and gone to sleep.

I don’t know why but I feel uneasy and I realise that I can’t wait to finish the job and get home. I stop for a moment to analyse my fears; what, exactly, is it that’s bugging me? Burly Bazza? He’s not very pleasant and there’s something creepy about him and I definitely wouldn’t want to meet him down a dark alley but he’s not a threat to me with Flynn here, is he?

Why do I feel the need to keep checking on Sausage? He’s only a few feet away so nothing’s going to happen to him, so what is it? What’s bothering me?

I don’t know, I decide, shoving the grass into the sack a bit faster, but the sooner we’re done here the better.

Flynn reappears at the side path and I feel relieved to see him which is ridiculous because he’s only been gone for a matter of minutes. He’s pushing the lawn mower in front of him and when he gets to me he pushes it onto the edge of the grass and turns towards the house.

‘I’m just going to have a quick word with Bazza, I won’t be long. I’ll start this up for you when I get back.’

I nod and carry on clearing up the grass cuttings and think how much better the garden looks already. When I’ve swept all of the cuttings into the bag I hold the sack closed and trample carefully on it to flatten it down and then tie it into a knot. I need to take it out to the truck but I don’t want to leave Sausage on his own. I could pick him up and take him with me but it’ll be a bit awkward trying to carry the bag as well.

Don’t be so ridiculous! shouts the ever present Beccabird, you’ll only be a few minutes.

She’s right. I am being ridiculous. I grab hold of the bag and drag it down the path along the side of the house and out to the truck. The back of the truck is mostly empty and feeling very pleased with myself I heave it up onto the back and then clamber up and pull the bag to the back to make it all tidy so we can still fit the tools on. I think I’m getting the hang of this labouring lark.

I jump down from the truck and quickly walk down the side of the house into the back garden, crossing my fingers that burly Bazza doesn’t choose that moment to come out of the open front door – I don’t want to bump into him if I can help it. The thought of his face as his eyes travelled up and down my body makes me cringe.

I jump as I nearly collide with Flynn as he chooses that moment to come out of the back door. Not turning my head I look out of the corner of my eye as Bazza watches him from the back door, arms folded, cigarette clamped between his lips as he leans against the door frame.

‘Right charmer, he is,’ Flynn says through clenched teeth as we walk to the end of the garden together.

‘That bad, eh?’ I see Sausage watching us from the end of the garden and feel foolishly relieved. For God’s sake, what did I think was going to happen to him?

‘Worse. I feel grimy just talking to him. Definitely wouldn’t want to live here – he was bragging how he keeps a set of keys for himself for every house he works in.’

I look at him and pull a face. ‘Surely that’s illegal or something, isn’t it?’

‘Don’t think the legalities of it would bother him. Likes to keep an eye on the tenants, he says. Seemed really pleased with himself, I think he thought I’d be impressed. Says it’s surprising what you can find out about people from looking around their rooms.’

‘Yuk. I wonder if the boss knows he does it?’

‘I wouldn’t have thought so, I wonder how many other houses he’s got the keys to? Who knows what he’s capable of? Made me feel sick, every time you bent over to pick some grass up he was drooling. I could see him at the kitchen window, ogling you.’

I shudder. Maybe that feeling I had wasn’t so ridiculous after all.

‘He says the boss’ll be round later to see how we’re getting on – I feel like telling him what Bazza boy is up to but I don’t want to land my mate in the shit and lose all his contracts for him.’

‘Are you going to tell him?’

‘Don’t know.’ He shrugs. ‘He probably wouldn’t care anyway cos he’s not much better than a slum landlord. I just wish I hadn’t taken the job now.’

‘Well,’ I say in a bossy tone, ‘Let’s just get it done and we can go home and reward ourselves with something nice to eat. The sooner we get it done the quicker we can leave.’

‘Yeah,’ Flynn says thoughtfully and then grins. ‘You can make one of your special bacon and fried egg sandwiches with brown sauce.’

‘I definitely will,’ I agree. ‘So let’s get on with it and leave creepy Bazza to his own devices.’ I feel stupidly pleased that Flynn’s coming home afterwards and not going out; I’ve got so used to spending our evenings together that when he’s not there I miss him and the house seems empty and way too quiet. I try to ignore the distant squawking from the Beccabird telling me that we’re friends and that’s all we’ll ever be. I know that, I tell her, do you think I’m stupid?

Don’t answer that.

Flynn grabs a handle on the side of the lawn mower and yanks a cord sharply several times and I’m reminded of a outboard motor on a boat. After several attempts it rattles noisily into life amid a blast of black smoke and a smell of petrol.

‘Okay?’ he shouts over the noise of the mower as he stands up.

‘Yep.’ I grab hold of the handle and trundle it slowly forward and discover that it’s not as easy as I thought it would be because the still longish grass puts up resistance. I push harder and after the first pass I get the hang of it and go back over the strip I’ve just done to catch the bits the blades missed the first time around.

Flynn picks up the long-handled shears and starts lopping off brambles and tossing them into a pile. I definitely have the easier job.

In no time at all the grass is short and while it won’t win any competitions for lawn of the year it looks a hundred times better than when we arrived. I clomp over to the path to pick up another sack to put the grass cuttings in when I realise that Flynn has stopped hacking the brambles and is staring at the house.

‘Boss is here, I think. There’s definitely someone else in there because Bazza’s talking to someone.’

‘Are you going to say anything about the keeping keys thing?’

Flynn frowns. ‘I don’t know. I wish he hadn’t told me then I wouldn’t have to make a decision but now I know I can’t help thinking; what if young girls are living in there? Who knows what that creep’s capable of?’

‘You could tell your mate, leave it up to him?’

Flynn shakes his head. ‘I could, but I don’t really want to put that on him. If I’m going to tell anyone it’ll have to be the boss.’

Bazza appears at the open back door and I can hear his booming voice as he speaks to someone in the kitchen.

‘Yeah, they’re nearly finished,’ he shouts over his shoulder. ‘Come and have a look see.’ He steps outside and starts striding towards us and a figure from inside the house comes out into the garden and follows behind him.

I knew it, that feeling.

The man striding down the path behind Bazza is none other than Jonathan. I stare at him in horror and think, why? Why did it have to be him? Why do I always have to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? I think I’m the one that realises who it is first, swiftly followed by Flynn who looks at me in surprise. As Jonathan gets closer recognition dawns on him and I watch as his neutral expression transforms into the biggest, most arrogant smile possible.

Bazza stops in front of us .

‘This is Flynn...’

‘Oh, I know who this is,’ Jonathan cuts in, tipping his head to look Flynn up and down from head to toe in a condescending manner before turning to me and doing the same. I will myself not to blush.

‘Well, well, well,’ he says with a smirk. ‘Company workforce let you down have they? Did you have to put the overalls on and do a bit of labouring yourself?’ He hoots with laughter and Bazza joins in laughing with pig like snorts although he can’t have any idea what Jonathan is talking about.

Flynn looks at Jonathan and says nothing.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ Jonathan sneers. ‘All that showing off about your business and you’re just a fucking labourer.’ I’m shocked at his outright nastiness – that’s not Jonathan’s style at all, he must be really rattled. For a moment I can’t understand it and then I remember; maybe he’s found out I that dobbed him in to Em.

Flynn draws himself up to his full height and looks down his nose at Jonathan.

‘Nothing wrong with labouring and I don’t remember getting a word in because you were the one doing all the showing off. Anyway, it’s better than being a slum landlord.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with having a property portfolio.’

‘Nothing at all if you don’t have any principles, especially hiring scum like Bazza to bodge ‘em up.’

Bazza gives Flynn a bewildered look at the mention of his name, a look which quickly turns murderous and I can see the situation ballooning out of control.

‘Well, mister high and mighty.’ Jonathan steps forward and jabs his finger at Flynn. ‘You can take your poxy dog with you and do one ‘cos your services are no longer required.’

Flynn and Jonathan glare menacingly at each other.

I clear my throat. ‘Look...’ I start to say.

‘And her, take that lying bitch with you as well,’ Jonathan says without taking his eyes off Flynn.

‘Don’t talk about her like that. Apologise.’ Flynn pushes his face closer to Jonathan’s. ‘Now.’

‘I don’t think so,’ sneers Jonathan. ‘She’s a liar. A cheating, lying bitch who’ll say anything to get what she wants. I wouldn’t trust her mate; she’ll only stab you in the back as well.’

I realise then that he definitely knows that I dobbed him in to Em.

‘You’re not my mate and this is your last chance, Jono. Apologise.’ Flynn’s voice is so low that it’s almost a growl.

A flicker of unease briefly crosses Jonathan’s face but he puts his hands on his hips and curls his lip in a sneer.

Flynn moves so quickly that he makes me jump; burly Bazza and I watch as he grabs hold of Jonathan’s shirt in a bunch of cloth at the front of his throat and nearly lifts him off his feet.

‘I’m waiting.’

‘Let go, you’re choking me!’

Flynn stares fixedly at him and out of the corner of my eye I see Bazza casually pick up a length of wood from the pile lying outside the back door and slowly move towards Flynn.

‘Flynn! Please! Let him go!’ I shout, afraid that Bazza is going to hit him with the wood.

‘Flynn! Please!’ I shout again as I see Bazza edging slowly towards them and raising the wood in the air.

Flynn looks over at me and loosens his grip and Jonathan takes the opportunity to duck out from under his arm and stagger down the garden towards the house away from him. When he thinks he’s a safe distance away he stands and smoothes down his shirt.

‘She might be with you but it’s still me she wants, she can’t help herself,’ he smirks and shouts at Flynn. ‘Like I said, once a bitch always a bitch.’

I open my mouth to explain about Bazza but stop myself; I’ll explain to Flynn later, for now I just want us to leave before Jonathan and Bazza gang up on Flynn and beat him up.

Flynn’s mouth is fixed in a thin line and there’s a brief moment of before Flynn takes off and thunders across the pile of grass cuttings towards him. Jonathan hastily turns and runs full pelt towards the back door of the house, slipping and sliding on the mud in his fancy brown slip-ons. Just as Flynn reaches him Jonathan manages to scoot inside the house and slam the back door shut. Flynn grabs the door handle and puts his shoulder into the door and I can see Jonathan through the glass pane struggling to hold the handle up while trying to turn the key in the lock.

‘Whoaa!’ shouts Bazza, tossing aside the length of wood as he thuds after Flynn. ‘Easy! Easy! That’s a new door! I’ve only just fitted it!’

‘It’s a flimsy load of shite,’ Flynn says turning to him. ‘I could put it through with one kick.’

‘You’d better not or you’ll be paying for it.’

Flynn pauses and looks at me and then at the back door.

Jonathan stares out from the kitchen, confident that he’s safe behind a locked door, his mouth set in a triumphant grin as he raises both hands, the fingers splayed in the universal two fingered fuck off gesture.

‘No problem, Bazza.’ Flynn calmly turns and faces Jonathan through the back door. ‘I’LL JUST GO ROUND THE FRONT,’ he bellows through the glass to Jonathan.

The smile wiped from his face, Jonathan disappears from view and Flynn takes off and races along the garden and down the side path of the house to the front.

I stand frozen to the spot and watch as Bazza follows Flynn at a sedate pace; he has a smirk on his face and has picked up the length of wood again. He gives me a leering wink as he turns and disappears around the corner of the house.

I run across to the gate and quickly un-loop Sausage’s lead, scoop him up and tuck him under my arm then jog over the lawn and down the path to the front of the house.