Dave Trellis and the Allotments of Doom (5 page)

I give these
allotments to people who need them; really need them. Not some
lazy, failed student planning on growing marijuana and flogging it
rather than getting a proper job. However, being as you are now
initiated into our happy family, you could earn yourself a bob or
two running errands. As you might imagine, there are allotment
residents who don’t like being seen in public and getting
deliveries down here is a bugger. It would save me trouble if you
would run errands, sign for deliveries, and the like. What do you
think?’

Fergus paused
and took a sip of whiskey.

‘To be honest
Dave. I never really planned on a career as an errand boy. I don’t
mind helping out, but I can’t see me spending all my time fetching
Meaty Dog Chunks from Asda.’

‘You’d be
surprised at the wealth concentrated in these here allotments lad.
But any road, you think on it and tomorrow I’ll show you round; let
you meet some of the holders. You’re not going anywhere until Enoch
decants you out of that cast. I’ll get you a few more blankets and
you can kip here on veranda. I’ll sleep in the pavilion tonight,
just in case.’

Later that
night, long after Dave extinguished the primus lamp and went to
bed, dark shapes crept silently onto the veranda and gathered
around the sleeping Fergus. Strange lights flickered, fingers
pointed and quiet bickering punctuated by sniggering filled the
night. The dark shapes melted away, stifled laughter drifting on
the night air, until all was quiet once more.

The perfect
light of morning washed away the dawn. The day smelt freshly washed
in a way never captured by fabric conditioner, despite
manufacturer’s promises. The dog’s night patrol trotted over the
bridge of St Catherine’s Allotments, all four in perfect step with
two by two parade cadence, the challenge bark met with an ‘all’s
well’ yowl and they passed into the shadows of the barbican.

The sun peeked
over the allotments wall and pierced the pavilion’s gloom, shining
in through the south facing windows, onto the south facing
gentleman’s four-poster bed and directly into Dave’s south facing
face.

Dave threw back
the heavy cotton sheet, parted the carbon fibre re-enforced
mosquito net, and strode naked across the polished floorboards. He
opened the large mahogany wardrobe and stepped inside. The door
closed there was a mechanical whine followed by a muffled thump. A
little later Dave singing ‘King of the Road’ was heard in the
distance bringing joy to the singer if not the audience.

By the time the
sun’s rays had reached the bottom of the bed, Dave re-appeared,
freshly showered, shaved and wearing full ceremonial shop coat,
muffler and flat cap; two steaming brews clutched in one hand.

‘Tea’s up lad,’
said Dave.

Fergus jolted
awake. The concerned face of Dave Trellis peered at him over the
card table.

‘How you
feeling? Took a bit of a knock last night. Remember?’

‘Morning Dave,
I feel fine, chipper, full of the joys of spring. And yes I
remember all of it; Honey Bun, psychotic Palaver, flying dogs, job
offer, the lot. Thanks for the tea.’

Fergus picked
up the tin mug filled with a deep orange liquid that steamed. The
enamel on the rim chipped, as per tradition, and Fergus rotated the
mug until he found a clear patch and took a sip. It was hot, strong
and made with sweetened condensed milk; just the right thing for
waking up on someone else’s veranda on a beautiful spring
morning.

Fergus looked
out over the lawn, now scuffed and rutted from last night’s rugby,
over the two inner terraces of the allotments and beyond. For a few
moments he enjoyed the peaceful view of parkland, river, and wooded
slopes.

‘Shame about
the lawn,’ said Fergus.

‘Aye, it is
that, but it was going to get a battering this afternoon anyway
what with the tables and chairs and all,’ said Dave.

‘Sorry?’

‘The annual
Earth celebrations, always best to have a party on such occasions,
despite the sadness of past events. So after the speeches and the
lowering of the flag, we’ll have beer, wine, food and even some
salad. There will also be Pimms; else Enoch and his mob will sulk
and that’ll spoil their Gilbert and Sullivan performance. This year
they’re doing the ‘Mikado’ and I’d pay good money to see those
‘Ubermensch’ in full metal geisha doing ‘Three Little Girls From
School Are We’.’

‘Sounds fun,
may I come?’

‘Of course lad,
it’ll be nice to have some human company and you’ve made a bit of
an impression already. The Palaver think you’re a good sport and
the dogs seem to like you too. Least ways, they haven’t hounded you
off allotments… Yet.’

‘Mind you,’
said Dave tapping gently on the cast enclosing Fergus’s lower body,
‘we’ll have to get you out of that thing first. I’ll ask Enoch to
take it off.’

‘What? It’s
fixed already? I half expected to be stuck here for weeks.’

‘This off-world
tech works like lightening,’ said Dave, ‘to be honest I thought
it’d come off last night, but I expect Enoch has his reasons. And
speak of the Devil.’

Dave nodded and
Fergus looked over at Enoch striding across the battered lawn with
a stack of trestle tables balanced on one shoulder. Enoch reached
up with one hand and took a table off the stack, shook it until the
legs dropped and placed it on the ground. Soon twelve trestle
tables stood in a neat row in the middle of the lawn.

‘Yes, very
clever,’ said Dave, ‘now come over here and get this cast off the
lad. He’s been stuck here all night.’

‘Bonkah Dave,
Rugby Boy. Now see if worked.’

Enoch lifted
Fergus easily, carried him to the side of the pavilion, and laid
him on the ground. Enoch pulled a small device from a hidden pocket
and pressed it. The cast rolled down over Fergus’s waist and legs
like a woman’s stocking and ended up in a neat ball. A shiny,
translucent, grey-green lump that looked and smelt like bile jelly
encased Fergus’s lower body.

Enoch turned on
the hosepipe. A powerful stream of water shot out hissing and Enoch
played it over the bottom of the grey-green lump dissolving the
jelly.

Fergus howled
as his feet appeared out of the lump.

‘Ahhh, its
bloody cold, turn it off, turn it off.’

‘Relax little
girl,’ said Enoch, ‘Water soluble, best way, stop whining.’

Fergus sat and
shivered as the water washed away the jelly, revealing shins then
thighs and finally, after a lot of whining and swearing, the last
part. Fergus shut up, Dave’s jaw dropped and Enoch laughed.

‘See, we do
something nice,’ said Enoch and threw his arms out wide.

‘Enoch, I’m
stunned, it’s undoubtedly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for
me. I’ve no idea how you did it, but thank you, thank you from the
bottom of my heart. It’s, it’s perfect.’

‘Perfect, it
may be lad, but I’d cover it up if I were you,’ Dave threw the
blanket at Fergus, ‘and I’d check the warranty; with this lot of
idiots I wouldn’t be surprised if the first time you use it your
balls blow off.’

‘All works
Dave, finest kind,’ said Enoch, ‘Standard issue field repair plus
tweaks.’ He leaned over and punched Fergus on the thigh. It sounded
like a mallet hitting a side of beef. The thigh muscle didn’t even
move. ‘You walk lightly now, Rugby Boy.’

Dave
Trellis

One
Life, One Woman, One Shed

The sun climbed
higher over St Catherine’s allotments and the yellow sandstone
glowed. A crowd of busy people milled about getting things ready
for the party.

To the right of
the pavilion was the food preparation area complete with barbeque.
On one side was a small white table that looked rather forlorn; a
handwritten sign said ‘Vegetarian option’.

In front of the
pavilion, sturdy trestle tables covered with white tablecloths held
an army of wine and beer bottles. They gave Fergus a cloth and
introduced him to the joy of polishing glasses.

Dave found him
there.

‘Hey up lad,
can you spare a few minutes? I promised to show you round.’

Fergus slung
the cloth over his shoulder and grinned.

‘Oh I think I
can find a slot in my busy schedule around about… now.’

‘Good man,’
said Dave, ‘come on then.’

Fergus fell
into step with Dave, who with waving arms started the tour of St
Catherine’s allotments.

‘It’s all very
simple lad, nutrition is the key. Once away from your home planet
you have certain key dietary needs. Of course, you can carry pills,
but why not carry seeds and grow your own. It’s lighter and you
never run out, hence these allotments. Mind you, they also act as a
home base, a place to leave your valuables, hold messages and
somewhere to stay when it all goes wrong, that sort of thing.’

‘By the way,’
continued Dave, ‘at the party, stick to native food no matter how
enticing the other options look, that goes for the refreshments as
well. I don’t want to explain cyanide poisoning down at A & E
again, they’re getting suspicious.’

They walked
past allotments, some neat, some disorganised, a complete mixture
of extraordinary and the common place. Dave talked about amino
acids and proteins, about cuttings and top dressing. It passed over
Fergus’s head as his attention flitted from purple marrow to black
rhubarb, distracted by the chaos of the preparations and the exotic
smells and sounds around him.

The next
allotment was neat, tidy and displayed a variety of growing
vegetables and plants.

‘Hey up lass,
how are the Brassicas,’ said Dave pointing towards a row of blue
sprouts.

‘Coming along
nicely since you suggested the cadmium top dressing,’ said a female
voice from among the vegetation.

A face appeared
and Fergus heard no more; struck in the forehead by the half brick
of perfect beauty. Green eyes were all he saw then dark, curved
eyebrows, a delicate nose and finally lips, full and wide. His
attention was dragged back to her eyes, where it stuck. He stared
at the girl, but it didn’t matter as she stared back. She smiled
and something deep in his brain woke up. He wanted to wear a
loincloth and hunt lions with a spear. Then the face
disappeared.

‘Sorry love was
that your foot?’ said Dave. ‘Whoops, sorry. Are you alright? Here
take my hand.’

Fergus saw Dave
helping a pretty girl, sprawled in a patch of blue cabbages. She
wore dungarees, which failed to hide a shapely figure, and green
wellies. As she struggled to her feet Fergus saw she was lovely,
but not the woman of a moment before who could demand the launch of
a thousand ships and it would be done.

She smiled
awkwardly and stepped toward Fergus offering her hand. Fergus
clasped her hand, it warm and slightly damp, and some impulse made
Fergus lean forward to kiss her cheek. At the last moment she
turned her head toward Fergus and he kissed her on the lips. Fergus
leaned back, surprised, and she smiled. Suddenly it all felt
awkward and she let go of his hand. She pushed her long brown hair
back from her face with both hands. It made her face beautiful and
for a moment Fergus felt the call of the savannah once more.

‘Boadicea, meet
Fergus, though you’ve introduced yourself already,’ said Dave.

Boadicea gave
an awkward little wave and shrugged her shoulders. Fergus thought
it adorable.

‘Any road, we
need to get a move on, so I’ll see you later at the ceremony. Take
care now, love.’

Dave shepherded
Fergus towards the next allotment. In his bemused state Fergus
forgot to say goodbye, so he turned around and waved to Boadicea,
which earned him a big return wave and a smile. Fergus felt
absolutely wonderful.

‘You’ll want to
walk that off before we meet the next holder,’ said Dave and nodded
towards Fergus’s crotch.

Fergus looked
down to see a substantial tent in the front of his combat
trousers.

‘Ah, good
point. Perhaps I ought to sit down for a bit,’ said Fergus and sat
crossed legged on the path. Dave squatted beside him.

‘Boadicea is
actually rather shy and doesn’t say much until you get to know
her,’ said Dave, ‘but you have to watch out for the Glamour - you
know, the eyes thing. It’s mostly autonomous; she doesn’t mean
anything by it. It just happens when she’s surprised. You have to
distract her to break the Glamour, that’s why I trod on her foot
and knocked her over.’

‘Sorry,’ said
Fergus, ‘What do you mean the eyes thing?’

‘The Glamour,’
said Dave, ‘The sudden, overwhelming experience of perfect beauty.
It makes you feel like a teenage caveman. She did it to me once,
when I bumped into her by accident, I’ll never forget it. Mind you,
that’s the first time I have seen her do it without some sort of
surprise. Then again that upgraded lunchbox of yours, parading at
attention, is enough to surprise anyone.’

‘So she isn’t
human?’ asked Fergus.

‘No lad, but
chin up, she’s about human as is possible to be and still come from
another place. I notice you seemed rather struck, over and above
the Glamour, and you also made an impression on her, over and above
the salami in the pocket. Don’t worry lad, her kind have been
getting on just grand with us humans for millennia; you’ll be
fine.’

‘One word of
warning; she’s a very nice lass, adored by just about everyone. If
you treat her casually, you will face the wrath of the allotments;
Old Testament wrath, if you get my drift.’

‘Don’t worry
Dave, I’ll treat her as if she were your daughter,’ said
Fergus.

Dave looked
away and pushed his hand through his greying hair.