Church Group

by Michael Brightside

  * * *

  As we walked the long winding drive to the house for the second time, I told myself the other outbuildings couldn’t possibly also be piled full of crap to be sorted through.

  “You’re going to be doing some weeding today,” Tabitha informed us. “I’ve put some gloves on top of that wall over there, get a pair each and follow me round to the side of the house.”

  Unfortunately I’d been right.

  Al quickly grabbed the new looking pair on top, while I had to make do with the tatty grey suede ones that looked like someone else had owned them. As we walked we passed what looked like an aviary, only with a cat sitting inside.

  “Why’s that in there?” Al asked as he walked over to take a look at it. The cat hissed at him when he got too close, its tail in the air as it paced up and down its chicken wire home.

  “He’s not right that one,” Tabitha answered. “He was a kitten a friend’s cat had and they didn’t know what to do with him, I just give him food and water, he seems happy enough.”

  He seemed happier when we walked away.

  As we followed the path around the house, I noticed all the little dandelions and slivers of grass poking out between the grey paving slabs. The thought of spending the whole day crawling around on the floor pulling them out didn’t fill me with joy. So I was pleasantly surprised when we arrived at an ivy soaked brick wall, probably eight feet high.

  “Open that door one of you will you,” Tabitha commanded us.

  “What door?” Al asked.

  “There’s a door there, can you not see it?” Tabitha walked up to the wall and pulled the dense ivy to one side, revealing a grand oak door, a big cast iron ring handle hanging from one side.

  She jumped back and started searching frantically for somewhere to wipe the cobwebs she had accumulated on her hands, settling on my t-shirt. Al turned the thick handle and tried to pull the door.

  “Push it Al. You push a door to go in, don’t you know anything?”

  Al pushed with both hands, letting out a grunt as he struggled. The door didn’t move. I moved up next to him and helped, putting my shoulder against the wood and trying to push with my legs. Even with both of us it still wouldn’t budge.

  “I thought it might have gotten a bit overgrown, it’s been a while since anybody’s been in there. One of you might have to climb in.”

  Al didn’t need asking twice. He took a step back then jumped up and grabbed the top of the wall, kicking with his feet as he tried to get a purchase on the red bricks.

  I quickly grabbed the bottom of his old trainers and pushed him up the wall. He managed to swing one leg over the top, then sat there precariously while he got his breath back.

  “How long did you say it’s been since anyone was in here Tabitha?” he panted.

  “Oh, not since my husband died,” she replied. “Over ten years now, twelve maybe?”

  The upward inflection at the end of her sentence was a ruse, she knew exactly how long it had been. She pulled a cigarette from the box she always carried and lit it up. The long drag she took reflecting the pain of having had to think about something that upset her so much. She obviously hadn’t been able to bear going in the gardens since she was widowed. In that moment I felt sorry for her.

  “Throw my gloves up Lu!” Al shouted, trying to change the subject.

  He slipped the gloves on and dropped into the garden, the dull thud as he landed closely followed by the sound of plants being frantically torn from the ground. After a couple of minutes the solid wooden door before us swung open.

  I gestured Tabitha in first, then followed behind. We were in a walled garden now; grass, thistles, weeds and brambles grew chest high. Thick ivy covered most of the bricks on the inside too, though in the corner I could just about see what looked like another door.

  “This is a long time overdue isn’t it?” she understated.

  “You can say that again,” I said. “Is that another garden through that door over there?”

  “There are a few more Luke, one of them has a swimming pool in it.”

  Her eyes welled up as she realised what had happened to the garden since she’d abandoned it, since she’d been abandoned by him. She pulled out another long cigarette and lit it, maybe in an effort to see her husband sooner and ask him why.

  “Right you two, there’s a lawnmower and some garden tools in the big shed by the garages you were clearing out yesterday,” she said. “Take what you need, I’m going to go and have a lie down, I’ve not been feeling too good today.”

  With that she left for the house, while Al and I headed off to stock up on tools.

  We split the jobs between us. I was to clear out the garden we were in and Al, ever the explorer, was to go off and liberate the rest of the doors from their green prisons.

  “If you find the swimming pool come back and tell me,” I said.

  “Why, fancy a swim do you?” Al joked.

  “What in her twelve year old disease pool? Nah you’re alright mate.”

  The work took longer than I expected. The grass was so long I had to cut it with the lawnmower at the highest setting to stop the blade from getting caught up, before going over it again to get it properly short. I was only halfway through the first garden and feeling like I’d gotten the rough end of the deal when Al came running back.

  “Found it Lu! It’s shit though.”

  I followed him through one identical overgrown garden after another, counting four including the one we’d started in, before we passed into the one with the pool.

  It was a lot bigger than I’d expected it to be, a long rectangle that almost filled the garden to the brick walls, leaving just a thin sliver of grass to walk around it. It probably would have been nice had it been looked after, small patches of clean white tile shining from under a veneer of green mould. In the bottom was maybe six inches of brown water mixed with decomposing leaves, I spotted at least one frog in there unable to escape. Al smiled and gestured towards the water, as if to say you first. I gave him a look that said there was no way I was swimming in there. It wasn’t a swimming pool, if it had a frog in it then it was a pond.

  Having been disappointed by the pool, we spent the rest of the day working flat out in the prehistoric gardens, in an effort to finish early. The last of the weeding was done by a quarter to five, but by the time Tabitha had made us put all the green waste in a pile ready for burning, it was half past. Bollocks. It wouldn’t normally have been that big a deal, were it not the thirteenth of July. My birthday.