Dave Trellis and the Allotments of Doom by S.B. Davies

they stepped out onto a small landing with a
white panelled door.
    ‘And this is
me, come on.’
    Fergus followed
Dave into a large living room with floor to ceiling bookshelves,
portraits on the walls and a wide fireplace surrounded by a comfy
armchair and dog baskets. Over the mantelshelf was a life size
portrait of a young woman; her face was lovely. A small label read
‘Lady Catherine Trellis’. Fergus pointed at the portrait.
    ‘A striking
looking woman,’ said Fergus.
    ‘Aye, she is
that,’ said Dave.
    ‘An
ancestor?’
    ‘Something like
that, but the title wasn’t hereditary.’
    A Georgian
style window showed a view of the allotments looking back towards
the escarpment. Sunlight poured in and lit the whole room.
    ‘It’s a simple
bit of off-world tech,’ said Dave waving towards the window, ‘A
conceit I know, but I can’t stand living without a decent view.
Come on this way.’
    Dave led Fergus
through a wide hallway into an open plan kitchen, complete with
tiled floor, Aga range and huge pine kitchen table. Under the table
was another set of dog baskets. A window looked towards the Black
weir further down the river Alf. It was homely and comfortable.
    ‘Sit yourself
down lad. We’ll have a cuppa before the festivities start,’ said
Dave and put the kettle on.
    Fergus sat at
the table with his feet in a dog basket.
    ‘Do the dogs
sleep down here then?’ asked Fergus.
    ‘They like to
keep me company, seems they worry about me for some daft reason.
Anyways, they have a whole kennel complex down here somewhere. Very
private your dogs, don’t like visitors. If you want sugar it’s on
table’.
    Dave plonked
down two large brews and sat opposite Fergus.
    ‘So what do you
think?’ asked Dave.
    ‘About
what?’
    ‘The allotments
you daft bugger. Do you want to stay and help out?’
    ‘Oh, the
allotments; they are incredible, fantastic with the most beautiful
green eyes –’
    ‘Focus on the
allotments. Do you want to stay and help keep things in order?’
    ‘Yes, actually
I would. This is the most exciting yet painful experience I’ve ever
had. What’s the pay like?’
    ‘Nowt.’
    ‘Not much of an
offer.’
    ‘That’s
balanced by free accommodation and all costs.
    ‘So I can live
in a place like this?’ asked Fergus.
    ‘No, but
there’re other apartments, small and unfurnished. They’ll need
decorating and there’s local tradesman familiar with allotments, so
you won’t have to do it all yourself. I can meet the costs of
decoration and like; allotments are well funded.’
    ‘To be honest
Dave, I was set on helping out for free.’
    ‘So you
accept?’
    ‘Yes, oh indeed
yes.’
    Dave looked
relieved and happy. He stuck out his hand and Fergus shook it.
    ‘You know
you’re the first bloke to turf up here in years that isn’t a
complete bloody idiot,’ said Dave. ‘Glad to have you aboard. At
least we’ll have something to celebrate at this bash. It’ll be
starting soon and I have to give a speech, so finish your tea and
I’ll get changed. If you’re in a hurry, the lift is behind that
door over there; it comes out in the pavilion.’
     
     
    ‘Rugby Boy,
stand up.’ Enoch’s Japanese clog kicked Fergus on the boot.
    Fergus
struggled to his feet and stood next to the towering Palaver
dressed as a Geisha girl. Dave droned on in vague pleasantries for
the a few minutes; then paused and his voice rang out in a stronger
tones.
     
    ‘ They
shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary
them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of
the sun and in the morning
We will remember
them.’
     
    Fergus’s
thoughts turned to his lost parents and his eyes welled up. He was
a little ashamed until he noticed the tears falling down Enoch’s
face. The crowd remained silent as Dave lowered the Union flag to
half-mast.
    After a full
minute, Dave took a sip of water, sniffed and carried on:
    ‘And now the
lighter side. The food’s ready and the bar’s