by Graham Smith
‘We want to stop any ill feeling before it goes any further.’ Luke gave him the bottle of malt whisky he had brought as a peace offering. ‘There’s no need for reasonable adults to fall out over how often a lawn is cut or cars are washed.’
‘Of course there isn’t. If you just fall into sync with the rest of us then there will be no problem.’
‘We’ll do the jobs Bernard. But we’ll do them at a time that suits Luke and me.’
‘But that means people will be disturbed by your lawnmower whenever you decide to cut your grass. Why not cut it at the same time as everyone else?’
‘Because sometimes we have other plans for a Sunday morning. We’re just married and are trying for a family if you know what I mean.’ As soon as she’d spoken, Becky knew she had made a mistake.
‘That’s your business I’m sure. However as chair of the Kings Close Residents Association I must protest at your anarchic intentions.’
‘Anarchic? You’re taking the piss now Bernard. Cutting my lawn when I see fit is not anarchy. Overthrowing the government and ignoring the law is anarchy. Cutting grass at a different time to you isn’t. C’mon Becky let’s go. There’s no point wasting any more time talking to this prick.’
Luke slammed the front door behind him in frustration at Bernard’s stubbornness and his own inability to stay calm and rational.
‘I’m sorry Becks. I should have kept calm.’
‘You’ve nothing to apologise for. If you hadn’t been speaking I would have said a lot worse.’
‘There is one way to sort this out though.’
‘If you are about to say fit in with his timescale then you can forget it. I married a man not a mouse.’
* * * *
Luke and Becky went about their daily business for the next week without interacting with or speaking to any of their neighbours until a letter which arrived on Thursday changed their perspective.
The letter was from the local planning department and said, It has been brought to our attention that you have recently erected a structure in your garden which has not received planning approval. You have fourteen days to remove the structure or you will be in breech of Code 16 of the Herefordshire County Council Building Regulations, Chapter 8, Subsection IV.
‘What the hell are they on about Luke?’
‘It can only be the shed. That old bastard next door has obviously been onto the planning people. There’s no way it will be in breech of planning regulations.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I am. I bet that he forgot I’m an architect. I know the person who sent this letter and will call him tomorrow and sort this out.’
‘I’ve a good mind to go around there and give him a piece of my mind.’
‘I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Leave it with me and I’ll come up with something better.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s about to find that he’s not the only one who can play silly buggers.’
* * * *
Luke spent half an hour the next day talking to the man from the planning office who had sent the letter and explaining that the only thing he had built was a garden shed.
By the time he got off the phone he was much happier and had enough information to allow him to retaliate.
A few texts back and forth with Becky got her approval so he picked up the phone and made another call.
When he got home that evening he told Becky that everything was in place and would happen in the next few days.
‘What do you think he’ll do?’
‘I think he’ll go spare.’
‘So do I. And then I think he’ll want to retaliate, so I’ll have to nip that in the bud before it gets out of hand.’
‘I’m past caring. I don’t want that old git dictating how we spend our lives.’
‘Nor me, but we can’t keep escalating things.’
* * * *
The following Tuesday Luke returned home to find the drive filled with builders vans and sections of larchlap fencing.
‘I don’t think your man next door is very happy mate.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I’m not.’ Luke told the builder who worked for his cousin.
Seeing Bernard marching across towards him Luke smiled at him and went into his house.
Seconds later an insistent knocking at the door announced Bernard’s intentions to instigate a full and frank discussion.
Opening the door with an amused smile Luke came face to face with an apoplectic Bernard.
‘What the devil do you think you are doing man?’
‘Me? I’m just getting something out of the fridge for tea.’
‘Not that you moron. You know I mean the fence you are having put up.’
‘I thought you’d approve of our new fence Bernard. After all, Marjorie won’t be able to see our shed anymore.’
‘But it’ll block the early morning sunlight from reaching my vegetable plot.’
‘Will it. Sorry about that. You can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs though.’
‘I have friends in the planning department who’ll make you take it down.’
‘If the builders have done their job right, which I’m sure they have then it will be one inch below the maximum permitted height. You can’t do anything about it Bernard, so if I was you, I’d stop this senseless arguing about when a lawn is mown, and let us live our lives in peace.’
‘You’ll pay for this, you rogue.’
‘I already am paying for it Bernard. That fence is costing me the best part of a grand. So you better get it into your head just how far I’m prepared to go.’
‘It isn’t just me you know. Everyone else likes structure and order.’
‘I have no problem with that. Just stop dictating when I’m supposed to cut my bloody grass. Just say the word and I’ll tell the builders to stop where they are.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean I will tell them to stop if you can agree to let me live my life my way. I’ll keep my garden neat and tidy. But it’ll be done to suit my schedule, not yours.’
‘This is blackmail.’
‘Nonsense.’
‘I refuse to be blackmailed. You’ll be hearing from my solicitors.’
Luke shut the door and walked into the house laughing at Bernard’s stupidity. One second he was complaining about blackmail and the next he was making threats.
* * * *
Returning from work the next day Luke was met by Bernard, Marjorie and five of the other neighbours.
Luke hadn’t even opened his car door when Bernard started to harangue him about the fence which now extended all the way from the back garden to the pavement at the front of the houses.
Bernard’s face was purple as he shouted at Luke. The other neighbours were all having their say as well.
Luke held his hands up to quieten them and addressed the middle class mob taking care to look each person in the eye as he was talking.
‘I’m sorry about the fence everybody. I offered Bernard a solution last night and he turned me down flat. Becky and I would much sooner get on with everyone, but Bernard’s insistence on cutting our lawns at a set time is ridiculous.’
‘Is this true Bernard?’ The question came from Mike Dolan who lived on the other side of Luke and Becky.
‘He tried to blackmail me.’ Bernard was looking uneasy as he could feel his power slipping away.
‘How?’
‘He said he would stop having the fence put up if he could cut his grass whenever he wanted.’
‘That sounds reasonable to me. What do you others think?’
Nobody spoke, but one by one they all nodded their heads leaving Bernard alone in his campaign against Luke and Becky.
Bernard couldn’t cope with his defeat and started shouting abuse at Luke while Marjorie pulled on his arm trying to drag him back home.
The ranting abuse from Bernard came to an unexpected halt as he clutched his chest and
collapsed to the ground.
Marjorie screamed at her husband’s plight and begged someone to save him.
Seeing the blank looks on every face Luke dropped to his knees and checked to see if Bernard was breathing.
Finding no sign of any breathing, Luke rolled him onto his back and started chest compressions while instructing Dolan to call an ambulance and tell them that there was an unconscious non-breathing casualty.
After thirty chest compressions, Luke gave two rescue breaths and then started on another round of compressions.
Within ten minutes an ambulance arrived and one paramedic took over from Luke while the other prepared a portable de-fibrillator.
Bernard received three shocks to the chest before a paramedic announced, ‘we have a pulse.’
Wasting no time the two paramedics loaded him into the ambulance along with a tearful Marjorie.
As the paramedic closed the door of the ambulance he looked at Luke and told him that his actions had saved Bernard’s life.
Luke looked embarrassed before saying. ‘What else could I do? He’s my neighbour.’
Bonus Stories
Pursuit
When I first wrote this story it was a piece of micro fiction for a Facebook group. When Near to the Knuckle were looking for submissions, I fleshed out the earlier story and was delighted when they featured it on their site. http://www.close2thebone.co.uk/
They ran screaming from him, scattering to all points of the compass. Their young minds calculating the best way to escaper their pursuer. He selected one girl as his target and focused on her. She was eight and was one of the least athletic children present that day. She would provide the easiest catch as her chubby waistline would make her slow and unwieldy.
Her bulk was nearly as great as his, which meant he’d have a realistic chance of catching her. She was running away from him as fast as her legs would take her. Pigtails and shrieks flew over her shoulder towards him.
The father observed with pride as the son hunted down his prey.
Now only thirty feet separated them and the girl was looking increasing fearful as she knew she was gaining ground. The only sounds coming from her mouth were gasping asthmatic breaths. No scream or shrieks came now. Every mouthful of air was forced into her lungs to oxygenate the driving pistons that were her legs.
She was terrified of being caught by her pursuer as she knew exactly what his intentions were.
Twenty feet behind her, the thumping of his superior weight sent great echoes forward increasing her desperation. She had an idea and veered towards the creek.
By the time she had crested the ridge which started the slope down to the burbling water the gap had closed to ten feet.
She heard the shout of encouragement as the father drove him on after her. She’d never trusted the old man with his pointy face and stinky breath.
Now she was heading down a steeper slope and was struggling to keep both legs below her torso. The mysterious force called gravity gave her upper body propulsion the lower half lacked. A fall now would signal the end of her escape attempt.
She glanced over her shoulder to see where he was. Her eyes opened wider as she saw he was now within a couple of feet of her. He saw the panic in her pupils and laughed a cruel laugh which further twisted the knot of nerves in her stomach.
Her attention snapped back to her chosen route. A sapling tree lay straight in front of her so she veered left and executed her plan.
As the tree drew level with her shoulder, she flung out an arm and used the infant oak as a pivot. Her momentum carried her through one hundred and eighty degrees and sent her panting back up the slope.
The move worked, as her hunter shot past the tree before copying the trick and resuming the chase. She had gained herself twenty feet with the manoeuvre and his breathing was becoming more ragged by the second, as he too toiled up the slope.
She didn’t look back until she reached the top of the slope. The glimpse she afforded herself was fatal, as her tired legs no longer obeyed her demands. Left and right legs collided when he was a mere five feet behind her.
He paused gasping for air while as she hauled herself back to her feet with unshed tears in wide brown eyes. When she was stood beside him, he touched her arm and said one damning word.
‘Tag.’
Downloading Disaster
I co-wrote this story with Rosalind Smith-Nazilli after a mutual friend’s encouragement. The story spawned from Rosalind having to reset her computer’s settings as she couldn’t download Ebooks at her home in Turkey. An idea sparked, so I laid down the basic plot and Rosalind polished and buffed the story into shape. It first appeared in her eBook Fourteen Flashes of Fiction.
Nikoletta trudged through the depressing streets of Budapest to her workplace. Her life had taken a terrible turn for the worse back in July 2014 when the Russians had invaded Hungary. She had returned home from her work in the UK for her cousin’s wedding when the troops had taken Budapest and sealed off the country. She was now living in a Communist state when she had once enjoyed the luxury of the Capitalist western economy. She’d had the latest fashions, music, accessories and books. Oh how she’d loved her books. Now she had queues, misery, oppression and nothing better to read than propaganda which emerged from the bowels of the Kremlin.
The Glorious State as it called itself had found her employment as a low level analyst. Six days a week she sat for twelve hours a day in a drab cubicle with an ancient PC with which she had to cross reference reports from the dreaded Belchurn – The Communist secret police whose eyes and spies were everywhere – day after day she spent time collating reports which incriminated innocents. However she dared not falsify or overlook a single entry as she knew that her work was checked by at least one other person.
She longed for a return to the west so she could be reunited with her beloved books. Late one Tuesday evening she noticed on her screen that the gateway to the intranet had been left open. Quickly she accessed the internet through the open port and downloaded Kindle for PC to her computer and then she went looking for books by her favourite author – a Brit by the name of Edward Devlin.
* * * *
Two days later she was making her way home when a car full of Belchurn agents pulled up alongside her and stopped. The agents surrounded her and roughly bundled her into the car. They took her to the nearest intelligentsia office and shoved her into a cell. After eight hours of being ignored she was hauled roughly from her room and into one of the interrogation chambers. Here she was presented with an officer of the Belchurn who correctly accused her of downloading forbidden material, namely the books from Amazon. Her subsequent confession was greeted with derision and promises of a long prison sentence.
* * * *
The next day she was being escorted towards prison in the back of a van with five other women, when a sudden crunch threw the six captives forward against the bulkhead in a tangle of limbs. Groans, curses and cries echoed in the vans rear until they untangled themselves. Voices could be heard outside the van and suddenly the back door was opened by an elderly man.
Having been relatively unhurt in the crash Nikoletta seized her opportunity and bolted past the man and took to her heels as fast as she could.
She ran past closed down businesses, which three years earlier had been prosperous, past municipal buildings like schools and her workplace until she reached a housing district. Washing hung unattended on a clothesline so she quickly stole replacements for her prison garb and finding an alley where she had the illusion of privacy she quickly changed into her new attire. The clothes didn’t fit well and the coarse fabric scratched her body, but they were much better than the orange prison suit which identified her station in life.
Knowing she had to get out of Hungary as soon as possible she decided that North to Slovakia was out as it had fallen to Russians before Hungary. South was not an option either as the Russians had overrun all of the Balkans years previously and controlled everything along t
he Adriatic coast.
That only left West as an escape route. West where she wanted to go. West where the checkpoints were at their most frequent. West where every vehicle was thoroughly checked for people trying to flee the country. West where the impenetrable Alps formed a wall Berlin would have envied.
She had no money, no papers, nothing to use as a bribe and no transport. She was wearing stolen clothes and would soon be pursued by the authorities. However Nikoletta was a fighter, so with a shrug and a determined set to her jaw she set off for the West.
* * * *
For three days she trudged along the road towards the border, desperately rejecting one fanciful escape method after another. Then when she was one day from the border she came up with a plan which may just work. It was not foolproof by any means but she had to try it as it was the best she could come up with.
* * * *
She approached the border cautiously until she saw a checkpoint. Taking cover in a deserted hayshed she waited until nightfall and then with a sigh which smacked of the burning determination in her, she stripped off her clothes. She would have liked to retain her underwear but it was prison issue, so off it came. Next she formed a double fist which she held in front of her before gritting her teeth and using all the force she could muster, Nikoletta slammed her fists into her nose breaking the cartilage and sending a stream of blood down her bare chest. Tears sprang from her eyes as she exited the barn into the cold night air. Setting off at a run she ran the last two miles to the border checkpoint where she flung herself at the first guard with tales of rape and persecution.
* * * *
After convincing the leering guards at the post, that she was travelling with an inspection team as she had passage to the Vienna Embassy to warn them of a forthcoming assault by Russian troops, they clothed fed and gave her a bed where she could rest until morning. The next day saw them gain her passage on a truck which was bound for the Austrian capital.