The Bungalow

Problems that can arise around a competition.

THE BUNGALOW

 

The bungalows were identical and were all square in shape, quite boring to look at from the visitors’ viewpoint, but well considered by those who inhabited them. The area was a residential one for the elderly, and they had all their whims catered for. There were hospital facilities nearby, and it wasn’t necessary for anyone to have a long walk to the shops, there was an on-site supermarket, and a hardware shop. The problems in the area were due to the annual flower and vegetable show. In the past, the town had won ‘the best cared-for town’ in the county, nowadays it was for ‘the best cared-for garden’.

The original plot of land had been double its size before the residential area had been built. The owner had made a fortune out of the bungalows, and had left the other half to be rented off as allotments. Those who had the allotments were very proud of their fruit and vegetables. Some of them had even had a wooden hut constructed on their bit of land, where they could keep their gardening tools, table and chairs, a kettle, and a small cupboard for bread and biscuits. The older the men were, the more time they spent on the allotment. They had their own plants, and didn’t exchange information about how they were raising them. There were a couple of women who grew flowers for their own flower shop, and it was an encouragement to the men to see them out in all weathers in their boots and plastic macs. The women had worked hard and sold many flowers, in order to set up greenhouses to make growing flowers easier.

 

The atmosphere in and around the residential area was tense, what with the allotments and the OAP’s gardens. Brian occupied the end bungalow in the road, and his house and garden were an extended image of himself. He got up at seven thirty every morning, had a quick shower, dressed in casual clothes, and went into his kitchen for breakfast. While the kettle was boiling, he woke up his wife, Melissa, who never understood why he had to get up so early when he was no longer working.  Brian was used to keeping up appearances, and wasn’t going to let himself down, not even on a Sunday. Breakfast over, Brian said to Melissa, “I’m going out to see my chrysanthemums?”

“I though they were in the greenhouse.”

“They are, but you can never tell what might happen when there’s been a cold night.”

Melissa was going to say something, but when she saw Brian open the kitchen door, she closed her mouth. Brian had a special heater in the greenhouse to make sure the plants didn’t catch cold. He walked to the greenhouse and went to see how his babies were doing. The weather lately had been pretty miserable, and he had been rather worried about his chances in the competition. Brian kept his worries to himself, and only Melissa’s ears had to listen to his reproaches about the eternal rain, and the snails that came out of the sky to ruin his plants. The lawn had no problems as far as he could see, with the earthworms coming out from beneath the grass. Brian went back into his greenhouse to where he maintained his best flowers, like his chrysanthemums and orchids. He tiptoed around the greenhouse, trimming and spraying the beautiful plants. He had a dream which was far grander than winning the local competition, and that was to become a famous exotic flower producer. He knew of the existence of the two women, but he dismissed them as business women, who were only interested in making money and not interested in the flowers at all. Flowers were the love of Brian’s life, ever since he had been informed that he was not needed any more at the local branch of the Chamber of Commerce, where he had sat at a desk for the last forty years filling in papers and forms for those who had a business. In other words, he minded other people’s business. Brian had decided to cultivate exotic flowers and live as peacefully as was possible. Melissa wanted to go away and live in a warm and sunny place like Spain or Italy, but being married to Brian, who was a stickler for just about everything, she knew it wasn’t meant to be. Their children and grandchildren were prohibited from going anywhere near the greenhouse, and the garden was untouchable. There was no football playing outside, only if they went to the park. To all intents and purposes, the park was better without a single-minded pensioner getting grumpy about how bad the state of the lawn was, if anyone had the nerve to take the smallest step on it. That’s what made Brian’s lawn so special, it wasn’t meant to be trodden on - only to be seen. None of the neighbours ever saw a table or deckchair on the lawn, not even in the summer.

 

In the bungalow next door but one to Melissa and Brian, lived a retired military man called Clive. He was tall, his hair was silvery grey and he had a ramrod-straight back. In some ways he was similar to Brian, but where the latter was peevish, Clive generally sounded as if he were giving orders. He was a widower and although he would never admit it, he missed having a woman in his life.

 

The only one who seemed the slightest bit interested in him was Belinda, who occupied the bungalow between Clive’s and Brian’s. Her garden was a show place of femininity, and was a riot of colours and different flowers. Her favourite was obvious to anyone who ventured anywhere near it. The dahlia was the flower that dominated a large part of her back garden. Those flowers had once proliferated in the front garden, but passing members of the public had seen it as their right to cut them down and take them as trophies. The sight of her flowerless stalks had pushed Belinda into giving them a new home in the back garden, which was protected by a high wall, as were the other bungalows.

 

Clive ran his home and his garden as if he were still in the army. He had paving stones embedded in the lawn which made it easier for him to pass over from one part to another without stepping on the grass. He had also placed small stone statues in the corners of the garden, in an effort to give it a more classic air. Brian couldn’t make Clive out, and wondered what made him tick.  On dry days, Clive would go into his garden and carefully brush away any dust on the stones and spray the leaves of his plants with a special solution to make them shiny. When the back garden was done, Clive would go into the front garden and repeat the same work there. Clive didn’t have a dream as such, he only wanted the general public and his neighbours to be more civilized. Of course he would be in the competition, because he thought it was a civic gesture.

 

A few houses along the street lived a newcomer, David. He was the owner of the new restaurant in the town. He was on the corpulent side and he had difficulty in breathing. He seemed to be permanently sweating and was to be seen wiping his face with a wet-wipe, and then dried with a large white hankie. He moved into the bungalow, hoping that by living in a one floor house, he would not be so out of breath as there would be no stairs to go up and down. David’s garden was looked after by, Hattie, one of the women who had an allotment cultivating flowers. Nevertheless in David’s greenhouse, she helped David grow out-of-season vegetables for his restaurant. Thus, Hattie was kept busy by all of her gardening activities. David gave Hattie some of the leftover food from his restaurant, which she shared with her business partner, Carla. The two ladies, who ran their own allotment and the flowers business, were able to eat well and put money by for a rainy day. The arrangement worked well for David, because he didn’t ever have to throw food away. What wasn’t consumed in the restaurant he gave away, not just to Hattie, but to others he felt needed it. David was a good person.

 

Hattie parked her small car down the road from David’s. It was her morning for helping with the garden and the hothouse. She walked up to the front door and noticed it was slightly ajar. She pushed it and called out, “David, it’s me, Hattie. Where are you?” She walked around the bungalow to see if David was asleep, and then came across his inert body on the floor, lying behind the sofa. Hattie was wise enough not to touch David’s body. She rang the ambulance and police on her mobile. The authorities arrived in a relatively short time, in fact she told Carla later that they got there very quickly.

Those in charge took David away in the ambulance, and a policeman asked Hattie a few questions. “When did you last see him?”

“Two days ago. I come here to see how his vegetables and garden are every other day.”

“Do you know anything about him?”

“No I don’t. He was someone who gave me some work, and that was that. He was always tired and went to bed early. He said the restaurant was very hard work, and he would like to retire. But nothing else, that was all he said to me.”

“Thank you very much. You’ve been a great help.”

“I haven’t been able to tell you very much, because he never said much. May I go now, my business partner will be worried and wondering where I’ve got to?”

“Yes, of course. We might want to talk to you again.”

 

Clive and Brian were outside their bungalows talking, and when they saw Hattie they asked her, “What’s going on with the police and the ambulance?”

“I found David dead this morning when I got there. I can’t really say any more, the police might get angry.”

“How did he die?” Brian asked.

“I don’t know. Please excuse me. I’ve got to go to my own nursery. My work partner will be waiting for me. Bye.”

 

Melissa opened the front door to Brian, and asked, “What’s all that about?”

“David was found dead by the lady who helps him with the greenhouse and garden, when she arrived to work for him this morning.”

“His death wouldn’t have anything to do with the competition, would it?”

Brian stared at Melissa in disbelief, and then appeared to change his mind, “Now, that’s a thought!”

 

Clive was sitting in Belinda’s sitting room drinking coffee. They were exchanging ideas around the reason why an ambulance and the police had been called so early in the morning. “What do you think has happened?” Belinda asked her guest and neighbour.

“Frankly, I don’t know, but we can always ask.”

“I have a better idea, let’s switch on the television,” Belinda said. Clive switched on the television and they sat drinking coffee and waiting for the local news to come on. When it did, the news was very brief. “The owner of the restaurant ‘The Silver Buckle’ was found dead by his gardener when she arrived at his home this morning. An autopsy is being carried out at this moment to discover the cause of death.”

Belinda turned the sound down and turned to Clive, “They didn’t give anything away, did they?”

“No, they never do, not until they have more information,” Clive stood up and said, “Thanks very much for the coffee, I’m very grateful for it.”

 

Although the owner of the restaurant was dead, the waiters and other partners voted to open it. They considered they had no choice but to carry on, unless the police told them not to. So while they were cutting up steaks and chops, David was being cut up in the pathology department of the local hospital.

 

Hattie was all in a tiswas with the discovery of David’s inert body. She went straight to see Carla, who offered her tea and sympathy. “You must have been terribly shocked when you saw David lying there lifeless. I can’t imagine it myself,” Carla said, pouring them a second cup of tea.

 

The police duly arrived at ‘The Silver Buckle’ at midday. A young blonde lady was introduced to them as being in charge. Her name was Sheila, and she was David’s girlfriend and business partner. “I can’t believe he’s dead. We had dinner here last night, and then he left for his bungalow,” Sheila said.

“Are you aware if he had any enemies, or business problems?” the policeman asked.

“The hostelry business is full of jealousy, competition, and frustration, but I can’t think of anyone who might want to hurt him. How did he die?” Sheila wanted to know.

“I’m not at liberty to tell you.”

The police went over the restaurant with a fine tooth comb. Sheila wanted to burst into tears, but she held them back till she was alone.

 

The allotment growers were having a rough time. The best vegetables were fast disappearing. Some of the growers decided to set traps to catch the delinquents. The growers were not disappointed, they were sitting in their huts when one rang another, and said, “Take a look. There’s something out there among the vegetables. I can see them shaking and it’s not due to the wind.” The men ran out and as they got nearer the precious vegetable patches, the culprits alerted by the noise of the men’s boots, hopped off and out of sight. “Did you see that?”

The speaker’s friends stared at the almost bald patches in the soil, and saw the rear ends of fluffy white tails as the rabbits, now with full stomachs, went off to find another source of food.

 

A week before the competition a dinner was held to inform all those taking part when the formal part of the competition would begin. There was plenty of food and everyone was dressed up in their best clothes. Brian and Melissa arrived in time for an aperitif and to take in what everyone else was talking about. David’s sudden death was the talking point, and it was difficult to get away from it. Everyone had his or her own solution as to why he was killed. George, who lived a few doors down from Clive, was at the dinner with his lady friend, Belle. Although he was retired, George still owned the gentlemen’s outfitters in town. He was impeccably dressed and always wore a bow tie. The one that evening was light green.

“Overdressed as usual,” muttered Brian, trying not to spill his drink.

 

At that moment, the president stood up and announced that on the next Friday, all the judges would be paying a visit to all the gardens entered in the competition, to check out all the entries. Sighs of relief were to be heard from all around the dining-room, at long last the competition was on the move. Dancing followed, and the floor was soon covered with elderly couples trying to emulate younger generations. That blatant act of sheer madness, cost a good number of them to fall over breaking arms, legs, and ankles. The doctors at the local hospital were kept busy well into the night.

 

Hattie went to David’s house to retrieve her plants from his greenhouse. She slid under the police tape, and crept to the greenhouse, where she gently opened the door to get her plants for the competition. A voice said, “Stop right there. What do you think you’re doing breaking into a crime scene?”

“I’ve come to get my plants. David let me use his greenhouse for the flowers that I’m entering for the competition.”

The policeman said, “How do I know what you’re saying is true?”

“You’ll have to take my word for it.”

“I’m not allowed to do that, so hand the plants over to me, please.”

Hattie did as the policeman asked, and returned to Carla’s flat, and told her.

 

Tilly ran a charity shop, but she was also a retired crook. Her natural tendencies were still alive, and every so often she gave in to them. On the night of the dinner, she went around putting poisoned pills in the punch and glasses of wine. She also managed to place some Viagra tablets too. She picked Brian, Clive, and George for the Viagra, because in her opinion they were the most boring and stuck up men around. The Viagra amused Tilly as she imagined Melissa, Belinda, and Clive’s lady friend, were in for a night they would never forget.

 

Tilly was out to win at all costs, never mind what she had to do or what her victims had to pass through.

 

That night was very eventful. After the dinner some of the guests were rushed to the local hospital with symptoms of poisoning, where they were joined by those who had broken bones.

“What a dinner party that must have been,” the nursing staff commented.

“Let’s hope there are no more emergencies tonight. We’ve got no more empty beds,” declared a senior nurse.

 

Back at Brian and Melissa’s, Tilly’s idea backfired, because Brian fainted, and Melissa was vomiting from something she’d eaten.

At Belinda’s, Clive was chasing her around the bedroom. She opened the front door and he went flying out into the front garden.

George’s lady friend had gone home, and he was left alone outside the hotel where the dinner had been held. He went home, and had a hot bath, and switched on a box set.

 

Tilly’s ideas were not bad as she saw it, none of them would now be fit enough to tend to their gardens.

 

The vigilantes of the allotments had chased the rabbits, but none had been caught. Then the men discovered that a man on another allotment kept rabbits, which he let out to roam around looking for food. The flourishing vegetables had been a delight for the rabbits and they partook of everything. Their owner picked them up and took them home. The rabbits’ owner had accomplished his mission, to get free food for his pets, and stop the allotment owners from getting any kind of a prize.

 

The day came when the judges took a walk around the competitors’ gardens. The bungalow owners were not at home. The three men and their female partners or friends, had gone off to Italy, in order to forget the whole business.

 

Tilly received no prize, because her garden wasn’t good enough. After all the effort she had made to win the prize, one could almost feel sorry for her. The rabbit man was her brother, but that was no help to Tilly, only to her brother, whose rabbits fetched a good price as healthy pets after eating all those vegetables.

 

The allotment men said they would try again the following year. Hattie and Carla won nothing at all, and left the allotment, and rented a flower shop with ground out at the back, where they grew the plants and flowers for the shop.

 

There were no celebrations, except that the winner, Albert Adams, was awarded a large sum of money and a certificate, which he framed and hung in his sitting-room.

 

Sheila stayed on at the restaurant with the other workers.

 

Tilly was accused of giving digitalis to David and killing him. She had an argument with him about the fact he didn’t want her brother’s rabbits, and that slight was enough to set her off. The organizers of the competition had found foxgloves in Tilly’s garden, which became known to the police, and she was accused of making poison from them.

 

By the time Brian, Clive, and George returned from their unexpected holidays, all the scandal was over, and they paid less attention to their gardens.

 

Brian sold his bungalow and went to live in Australia. A new neighbour bought his old bungalow, and in no time at all, had filled his garden with gnomes, much to the disgust of Clive and George.