by J C Williams
“I know they’re wonderful,” said Pete. “I might need to review what we’re paying them. Look closer.”
Kelvin braved a closer look and, as he approached, the appearance of wrinkles became more apparent beneath the thick application of paint. Kelvin strained his eyes, saying in a whisper, “Is that Grandad and Ray?” Bill and Ben both put one finger to their mouth and nodded. “Brilliant!” said Kelvin. “They look brilliant.”
Kelvin stood between his aged guardians in flowerpots and tapped the head of the microphone in hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen, and Bill and Ben! Thank you for coming out at this early hour. I’m truly humbled and appreciative. What we have here is the dream that I’ve had for a number of years and one that I can now realise with my partner, Pete. Hopefully, some of you will have seen me on the television and know that my passion is pretty much anything that comes out of the ground. Since I had the pleasure of coming to Isle of Man for the first world record attempt, a few years ago, I’ve been impressed by the community spirit and the desire to look out for each other. My good friends here today, Jack and Emma, were pioneers of the ‘Lonely Heart Attack Club,’ which I’m sure most of you know about. I’m absolutely delighted to say that they’ve come on board with us and will be running the café, so you know it will be first-class.”
Jack raised a coffee cup in the air.
“… When we began on this journey, we wanted to nurture the ethos that they’d so wonderfully instilled in their coffee shops, both here on the Island and now further afield. Some of you will also be aware of the ‘Silver Sprinters,’ which is an offshoot where some of our elderly community get together to take part in physical activity. We spoke with Jack and Emma and a key principle we wanted to adopt was the ability to put back into our wonderful way of life. In the coffee shops around the Island there are social clubs and, dare I say it, dating clubs for the elderly and vulnerable. There is the opportunity to get together to get healthier.
“With the garden centre, we wanted to continue this and we are delighted to announce another club — which we’re calling ‘The Late Bloomers.’ Whilst it is primarily open to the elderly, the younger members of society will be most welcome. There will be opportunities to learn new gardening skills, meet new people, and even take home things that you’ve grown. As well as being a store that offers everything you need for the garden — with friendly service — it will also become a hub for the community and one that I would like to cordially welcome you all to. I’ve prattled on long enough, so, if I can get these scissors to cut this ribbon, I’d like to declare the official opening of our new garden centre — ‘Growing Places.’”
There was an enthusiastic buzz among the crowd and the attended press as the idea was germinated. Rarely did you find a business who placed as much substance on social responsibility as they did on sales through the till. The difference with Jack, Emma, and now Pete and Kelvin, was that they wanted to make a difference — they didn’t feel like they had to — and that was the crucial variation, and the one that made it appear sincerer.
The crowd moved inside and marvelled at the transformation seen before their eyes — Pete had given it a complete overhaul; the products, fixtures and even the staff had a premium feel. The swarm of people naturally split in two, the men to the left drawn to the sweet nectar of power tools and heavy garden machinery — placed alluringly to entice an expensive impulse purchase — and the ladies to the right, flitting mostly moved through the soft furnishings and eventually landing at the coffee shop at the far end.
The coffee shop sign read: ‘Java the Hutt – Going Places’ and it looked magnificent. No expense had been spared at the shop, with quality wooden bookcases, leather sofas, and burning candles which radiated a welcoming aroma. The display cabinet next to the till area was home to an array of sumptuous cakes that would leave Paul Hollywood — of The Great British Bake Off fame — licking the glass.
Despite Jack’s protests, Emma insisted on joining in behind the counter despite her condition. It was hardly work to them, after all; they enjoyed it. The majority of the early customers were eager to not only indulge their sweet-tooth, but also sign up to the ‘Late Bloomers’ — and those that weren’t members already, enquired about the other clubs.
Pete looked immaculate. He’d commissioned a green three-piece suit like was coloured and designed to look like the stem of a flower. With his yellow floral hat, he looked like an elegant buttercup. He was rooting around the shop floor, troubleshooting, but to his immense relief, everything was going without incident. People were enjoying themselves, and the sound of the till ringing filled his ears with joy.
In addition to greeting his customers and adoring public, Kelvin was running a series of masterclasses throughout the day. Kelvin couldn’t be there every day, but Pete reasoned that classes would be a valuable way to bring people in when it would otherwise be quiet. Chances are, people who turned up for the class would stop for a coffee and also look around the shop. Pete and Kelvin knew they couldn’t compete on price with the main chain stores, but they’d created something they believed people would pay a premium for: service, quality, and above all, a feeling of community.
Eventually the clouds opened and the sun came out — later than Pete has arranged. In the melee of the busy morning, everyone had forgotten about Ray and Grandad. Unfortunately, they were still sat — either side of the front door — in their flowerpots, like bouncers. The warmth of the sun began to melt their face paint and as it ran down their faces it looked like they were crying. Another problem: the costumes weren’t designed to be mobile. There were leg holes, but the weight of the costume was such that walking wasn’t the most practical. And that might create a problem, if…
“I need a piss,” said Ray.
Grandad turned his head so sharply that his hat nearly fell off. “You can’t break character! You can only say ‘flobadob’ or things like that.”
Ray paused for a moment before replying, “Don’t be daft. I need a piss.”
“Well, go for one.”
Ray shuffled. “But that’s the thing — I can’t. I couldn’t even if I wanted. The costume was a bit too big, so Emma fastened me in. I’m stuck and I need a piss.”
“I bloody know that,” said Grandad. “What do you want me to do? She strapped me in the same way. Can’t you just go in your ‘potty’?”
Ray tried to stand but it was useless. The strap that attached him to the flowerpot ran over his shoulder and attached to a belt around his waist. He wriggled uncomfortably.
“Just take the strap off and go for a pee,” Geoffrey said encouragingly.
“Don’t you think I would if I could? Only I can’t get these bloody gardening gloves off my hands.”
He used his teeth, but the Velcro straps were tied tightly on his wrist.
An attractive brunette left the shop with her purchases tucked under arm. Ray seized the opportunity.
“Excuse me, princess.”
The woman turned in surprise as she assumed they were inanimate objects on her way in.
“Yes?” she asked cautiously.
Ray continued to wriggle and said in despair, “I’m desperate, you couldn’t pull this off for me?” and nodding in the general direction of his belt.
“What??”
“Be a dear and tug this off for me, will you, luv?” Ray said, trying again.
“You’re a dirty flower. Shame!” she said, marching off in disgust. “Shame!” she said again as once was not enough.
Grandad shook his head and started to laugh. “Of all the insults I’ve heard thrown your way, and there have been a fair few, ‘dirty flower’ has to be the best. That’s priceless!”
Ray tried to release his glove once again. He put the gloved thumb of his right hand in his mouth and pulled as hard as he could. The glove was starting to give… until his grip gave way. Like a boxer who’d received a knock-out blow, Ray staggered, struggling to remain upright. The momentum of the flowerpot
was too much to control, unfortunately and he fell forwards, arse-over-tit. He’d managed to get his hands in front, at least, to cushion his fall as the costume fell down on top of him.
He was fastened securely before, but movement was now virtually impossible. He had his face ‘planted’ in the gravel and his feet now poked out the base of the pot.
“Oh, bad luck,” Grandad said helpfully.
“Geoffrey,” Ray said with a muffled voice. “Help me up.”
“What am I meant to do? You need a fork-lift truck.” Geoffrey looked for assistance, but such was the hospitality inside, nobody was leaving.
“Oh, wait there,” he said reassuringly.
“I’m not bloody going anywhere, am I!”
“Don’t be like that,” said Geoffrey, “naughty flower!”
He had a bit more latitude in the straps than Ray, as it turned out, and was able to lift the flowerpot high enough off the ground that his legs had the freedom to move, if only in baby steps. He gripped the rim of the costume and shuffled forwards, cautiously. He looked with envy at the people inside, enjoying complimentary refreshments, and the idea of a cold beer was starting to sound very appealing.
“What’s going on?” asked Ray. “I can’t see a thing, but I can hear leaves rustling. Are you coming to help me?”
“I’ll go look for a fork-lift and driver, shall I? I shouldn’t be gone too long,” Grandad said while inching his way towards Ray. “Right, I won’t be long…”
“Geoffrey?”
“Back in few,” he said, inching closer.
“Geoffrey??”
“Back before you know it.” Inching closer.
“Geoffrey!”
“About an hour or so is all.” Closer.
“Geoffrey!”
“Look at you,” said Geoffrey. “Making such a fuss.” Closer still.
“Actually, to be honest, I can’t look at you. It seems…”
The hole in the base of the costume was restrictive and felt like his legs were tied in a three-legged race. If he moved his feet too fast, they caught on the fabric hole. He stood over Ray, who was flailing like a turtle on its back, and tried to look down to extend a helping hand. The circumference of the flowerpot was wider than he thought, though, and as much as he arched his neck, he couldn’t see over the rim of the pot.
“What are you doing, Geoffrey? I’m about to water myself down here!”
“Keep your bloody leaves on, I can’t see where you are. You’ll need to guide me in.”
Ray twisted his neck to an almost impossible angle, like an Owl. All he could see where two white feet and the bottom of the pot. “Right, you’re nearly there,” he said. “You just need to come this way a bit.”
“What way?” said Geoffrey.
“This bloody way!” barked Ray.
“I can’t see you, so how am I supposed to know which way that is??”
Geoffrey used his bare foot to feel where Ray was lying. He made contact, but he couldn’t figure what with. Geoffrey gave up with this course of action and leaned forwards. He still couldn’t see, so made one final exerted effort to peer over.
“Shit!” shouted Geoffrey. “That’s me, then!”
He made a desperate effort to shuffle his feet, wobbled a bit, but the outcome was inevitable — he was done for. Geoffrey fell forwards with about as much grace as Ray, who kindly cushioned his fall.
Their heads were now touching, and Geoffrey whispered, “Is anything broken?”
“My bladder might be,” said Ray. “The floor feels wet and I don’t know if that’s me.”
Geoffrey lay on top of Ray and was now also unable to move. Regrettably, it looked very much like they were getting amorous with each other. They lay there for what felt like hours before they heard a welcome voice.
Jack looked them over before he started to laugh. “I know Kelvin is all about breeding flowers, but I’m fairly certain he didn’t mean like this.”
“Is that you, Jack? Help us up!” demanded Geoffrey.
Jack walked around them to maximise his view. He knelt down so he could look them both in the face. “Certainly, but just let me get a few pictures. You know. For posterity of this great day. There’s plenty of press here today, I can just see the headlines: ‘Bill and Ben in drug-fuelled sex orgy.’”
Opening day, as it happened, surpassed all expectations and it felt like much of the Island had turned out to lend its support. Emma worked like a hero and it was only Jack’s insistence she ‘bugger off’ and put her feet up that she left them to it. The feedback received and contents of the tills were all positive and for the first time in weeks, Pete felt like a heavy cloak of pressure had been removed from his shoulders. He’d ‘cherry-picked’ the team around him and although they’d been exceptionally busy, the atmosphere had been good-natured and, importantly, had been fun.
The coffee shop was Jack and Emma’s fifth outlet and had been a calculated gamble. Although they were all friends, it was ultimately a commercial arrangement. There was a rent to pay to have the coffee shop contract, and it wasn’t insignificant. Emma had been concerned that they were taking too much on, but it was a fantastic opportunity. Jack was equally satisfied with the opening day and the number of customers who came through the door. One of the major highlights was that they’d signed up forty-seven recruits to the Late Bloomers.
There was no doubt that it was a major project and a lot of money was at stake; for Kelvin, he’d also put his name to it and there were plenty of detractors who’d relish in the project failing. The staff, friends, and helpers all gathered round to enjoy a celebratory drink; they’d deserved it. Pete held a glass of champagne and pointed it in the direction of everyone who stood around him. Ray and Geoffrey had changed out of their costumes, but, for reasons unknown, the face makeup wouldn’t budge. With the mixture of soap, it’d turned to an orangey-brown colour and they were no longer Bill and Ben but now looked like a pair of Oompah-Loompas.
“What a day!” exclaimed Pete. “I’d like to sincerely thank each one of you for efforts in making this happen and I’m sure you’re all absolutely shattered. It’s the first day of a journey and I’m delighted that you’re all joining us on that voyage. I know — with your support — that it’ll be a huge success. Here’s to Growing Places!
.
Chapter Fifteen
J ack was a nervous wreck. He had a pregnant girlfriend who was about to ‘drop’, he had a best man speech to prepare, and now a boatload of ageing athletes who’d arrived on the Island.
The Olympics had been fairly straightforward, and the staff at the sports centre were willing and very capable to handle the logistics of the day itself. Jack was somewhat overwhelmed by the volume of participants. They had a little over two hundred local athletes and in the region of sixty people coming across. When they originally scoped the project out, they were concerned about filling the capacity of five hundred in the stadium. Virtually the entire travelling contingent was bringing friends, family, and well-wishers and almost as soon as they went on sale, the tickets were sold out.
From day one, the Douglas Council were advocates of the initiative and were accommodating of a request to place additional seating around the running track and allow spectators to buy standing tickets. Advance sales had exceeded three thousand tickets and it was likely that a larger number of people would turn up on the day. Every penny from the gate receipts was going into the fund that the club would use to support and educate vulnerable scam victims.
A number of corporate sponsors were eager to get involved and subsidised the cost of travel to the Island, and the funds left over were added to the overall pot, which was starting to look exceptionally healthy. The weather had played its part, and an unbroken blue sky greeted Jack and Emma as they pulled up to the sports centre. The equipment has been laid out the day before and there was an army of volunteers in fluorescent jackets on hand to control the crowds.
Jack stood in the middle of the running track. “
It’s a bit surreal, all this,” he said, looking around. “I hope Grandad’s going to be okay.”
Emma took his hand. “He’s in the best condition I’ve seen him in for years,” she said. “He’s taking this half marathon really seriously — I think he’s been out training most nights.”
“I know, but it’s like his mind doesn’t realise that his body is the age it is, and I know what you’re going to say…”
“That’s a good thing?”
Jack smiled. “It is, and don’t tell him I said this, but I’m really proud of him. How many eighty-three years do you see training for a race? And it’s not just Grandad. Think about how many other members of the club have been out training and getting fit, so they can be here today. It’s fantastic.”
“It is,” Emma agreed.
“The government will be pissed off with us!”
“Why?” asked Emma.
“We’re getting the old people healthy. That means they’ll be claiming their pensions for years longer.”
“That’s a nice problem to have!” said Emma.
“I don’t want Grandad to push himself. I know how bloody stubborn he can be and he’s… well, more fragile than he used to be. And on the subject of fragile, are you sure you’re going to be okay down here? I know what you’re going to say, but I’d totally understand if you’d want to put your feet up.”
Emma laughed. “If I go into labour, this is the best place for me. There must be eight or nine ambulances down here. Do you think they’re anticipating a busy day?”
Jack shrugged his shoulders. “I hope not, but I suppose it makes sense. Promise me you’re here because you want to and not because you feel like you should.”
“I promise. I want to be able to tell Baby Bump that he or she was there when he or she’s great-grandad ran a half marathon.”
Jack smiled. “Grandad’s not stopped talking about it. I heard him telling the boys in the legion the other night. You should have seen the smile on his face. And Ray is just as excited. Apparently he’s taken up knitting because he wants to knit the baby a blanket like he had when he was a little boy.”
