Old Walls - Part 2

 

Simon woke early, feeling anxious about volunteering at the working party. Roz was still sleeping, snoring faintly. She was a late riser and an intermittent sleeper, typically waking around three, spending an hour or two wide awake reading quietly or just lying there thinking before getting sleepy again and returning to sleep until about eight.

 

‘Where’s my orange fleece?’

 

‘What?’ Roz sighed and turned over, pulling up the duvet so it covered most of her face.

 

He opened drawers, rummaged through neatly folded clothes, shutting them again aggressively. ‘I need my orange fleece.’ 

 

‘It’s on the hook in the kitchen,’ Roz said sleepily, her mind, even in sleep, an encyclopedia of domestic information.

 

Simon didn’t thank her, ‘Ah!’ he said, holding up his index finger as he rushed downstairs in his thermal vest and boxers. He had a belief that wearing orange could make an older man appear peppy and still full of ripe juice, like a tangerine at Christmas but in his case it suggested a personality flaw and fitful restlessness.

 

He rushed back upstairs to brush his teeth. Roz was awake now and sitting up waiting for him to leave so she could relax. ‘Shouldn’t you have gone by now?’

 

‘Yes but I haven’t had an effect yet and I’m reluctant to leave until I’m fully abluted in that sense of the word. We’re going to be doing physical work, if I know Mel, there’ll be a lot of crouching and scooching and hardcore pulling of weeds.’

 

‘Try again now, use the step stool I put in there to raise up your feet.’

 

Roz was something of an expert on Simon’s low level health problems. She was also a qualified psychotherapist with a small list of regular clients who came to see her for one to one sessions in the house. ‘I’ve got my client today, my Tuesday lady so don’t come home until after midday.’

 

‘Oh that woman with the bigoted husband?’ Simon shouted from behind the closed door of their ensuite.

 

‘Yes,’ Roz said quietly, feeling a pang of guilt that she’d shared a few details of her client’s personal issues with her husband. 

 

She listened to him violently brushing his teeth then there was a period of silence before the toilet flushed and he burst out.

 

‘Success?’ 

 

‘Mmmm, sort of. I find if I force the issue too early on, it isn’t properly fired so I end up using lots of toilet paper. My colon is like a kiln, it needs more time. I’m late now, I’m going to have to cycle,’ he said looking out of the window. ‘Oh look, Blackbeard has already left, the white pick up isn’t there. I didn’t hear the engine, did you? Maybe he was just helping out and the woman is going to live there alone.’

 

‘Maybe,’ Roz said, feeling strangely confident that this wasn’t true, ‘and no, I never heard a thing.’

 

Simon put on his helmet and cycled the short distance to the nature reserve. Dr Mel Freestone was already busy organising tools and wheelbarrows. He was a large man with smooth skin and a domineering character, a retired plastic surgeon from Cape Town who lived in a large Georgian house just outside the village with his wife Annabel and his adult son, Beckett. Mel was an important figure in the community, always organising things to improve the local area.

 

Some other men from the village arrived, two of them were dressed in full camo. This annoyed Simon immensely but he wasn’t really sure why, perhaps it was because he was in bright orange and it felt like they were deliberately contradicting him. 

 

Shiva and Derrick came with their big smiles and expectant energy, what did they expect? They expected everybody to agree with them at all times because they were the kindest, nicest people in the county and they always knew best. Indeed it was their duty to gently change the world by constantly nudging people in the right direction.

 

‘I would have expected more than this,’ said Shiva looking around, her silver earrings swinging inside her nest of fine curly auburn hair, ‘sad turnout really.’

 

‘It’s Tuesday I suppose, some folks might be busy or working,’ Mel had a way of shutting people down, ‘so we’re taking out the bad stuff, reducing some of the hogweed, digging out the thickest, longest brambles or cutting them down if it’s too compacted underfoot. Concentrating mostly on the picnic areas and the spots where people like to fish. The idea being that we want more folks to use this space, we want it to be inviting, get families here during autumn, walking and enjoying the fresh air.’

 

‘We need to educate people,’ said Derrick, ‘especially those with children about taking their rubbish home with them, Mel. Shiva and I were talking about it on the way here. I think we need a few signs, Shiva has kindly offered to paint some, she’s a very good artist as some of you know from the arts trail.’

 

‘Yes Derrick, it’s worth considering but we don’t want to clutter the area with too much hardware, there’s a bin near the parking area, it’s clearly visible,’ he paused to observe the couple’s facial expressions before adding, ‘I’ll think it through though.’

 

The camo guys had already collected a barrow and were heading off towards a thicket of brambles, chatting like old friends. ‘Have you brought gloves, Simon?’ said Derrick.

 

‘No,’ he shook his head, held up his hands and let them drop down onto his thighs with an audible slap, ‘unfortunately it slipped my mind.’

 

‘Only we’ve got some spares, they don’t match but..’ Derrick rifled through an old plastic bag which looked like it had been used hundreds of times, ‘here you are.’ He handed Simon a green cloth glove with a hole in the index finder and a thick leather glove which was huge. ‘You can come with us and if you’re not sure about anything just ask, Shiva knows all about plants.’

 

Simon was relatively new to this volunteering thing and he’d quickly worked out that the work part was usually fine, it was the other volunteers that tended to cause friction. 

 

They set about thinning out the undergrowth, raking it up and dropping it into wheelbarrows. It was peaceful except for the thwack of the camo men who’d brought along their own tools and were making short work of the task at hand.

 

‘Look Derrick, they’ve got machetes!’ said Shiva, ‘That’s a bit aggressive isn’t it, there might be small mammals in the undergrowth...or fairies. I’m not sure I feel safe. Are you even allowed to carry a machete? Maybe we should tell Mel.’

 

Derrick sighed. ‘I’m sure Mel is aware, Shiva, just ignore them and we’ll just concentrate on this area here and garden gently with consideration of all the life here and also the tranquility of the surroundings.’

 

‘Look at the veining on this leaf, Derrick. Should we take it home and put it in a press? I could use it for my clay work, couldn't I?’

 

‘Yes, yes, some of the leaves are most intricately detailed Shiva. Nature never fails to inspire does it.’

 

‘Simon, have you ever attended the pottery class in the village hall? It’s on a Friday morning, it’s very good.’

 

‘No, no I haven’t. My father was a foreman at one of the large potteries in Stoke on Trent so it’s not something I’ve ever tried. I suppose it didn’t appeal to me because it was more his thing, he spoke about plates a lot at home, he used to bring the seconds home. I’ve joined the cycling club though..’

 

‘Oh which band,’ said Derrick quickly, ‘espresso, cappuccino or latte?’

 

Simon paused. ‘I did a cycle with the latte group on Sunday. I’ve only just joined though. I’m quite fit actually but I just haven’t done that much cycling.’

 

‘I was in cappuccino a few years back and was asked to join espresso but I’m too busy these days trying to improve our community, the ripple effect of which extends into the wider world. We’re in a privileged little bubble here, do you agree?’ 

 

Simon was struggling a bit with the task at hand. The secateurs he’d been given were blunt and the soil was so dry and hard he had to go through the motions of digging without actually getting anything much out. He was feeling rather emasculated by the camo men with their machetes. In contrast his little group seemed feeble and ineffective, scrabbling about on the ground with odd gloves and blunt tools. 

 

‘Yes,’ he nodded, annoyed because he couldn’t think of a more suitable response.

 

Derrick stood up tall suddenly, looked down on him and said, ‘And what was it you did for a living, Simon?’

 

‘Oh I oversaw major construction projects in the railway industry. I started life as an architect and then moved onto that by accident really. It was less stressful I suppose…and the pay was better.’

 

‘So that’s why our train tickets are so expensive!’ Shiva said loudly.

 

‘Well I didn’t have any say in the pricing of tickets unfortunately.’

 

‘Public transport should be free!’ said Derrick, ‘Everyone driving around in these huge vehicles is pure madness.’

 

Simon immediately thought about Blackbeard and blurted out, ‘Yes some new people have just moved in opposite us and the guy has this huge white pick up truck with big silver bull bars on the front, it literally swallows the road. That’s all I really know about him so far, that the guy has a big gas guzzler, a very loud voice and wears a football top. I won’t judge him of course but I have a feeling we probably won’t be friends.’

 

‘You know, Simon, I would be sure to get to know him and his family better and perhaps apply consistent  friendly pressure on them. Drop round with a vegan curry or some wind chimes, I’m sure they’ll be grateful.’

 

‘Yes, Simon, Derrick’s right,’ said Shiva as she removed her cardigan revealing a purple strappy vest underneath, ‘you’ve had the advantage of a good education, you’ve probably travelled a bit and know about the world and all its problems. Get to know them, that way you can take the opportunity to educate them and that’s how we move forward as a society.’

 

They were interrupted by Mel who was walking around collecting each barrow and taking over to a makeshift composting area. ‘Hey you folks haven’t got much here.’

 

‘We’re being selective, Mel,’ said Shiva, ‘many of these native plants have a specific function in the ecosystem, they may be hosting insect larvae.’

 

‘Yes well we’re not taking them all out, just thinning. We’ll be stopping for refreshments in a minute. Annabel’s baked one of her cakes and there’s a couple of flasks of coffee.’

to be contd