Muddy Hands

Gardening is not always fun

He scrubbed his hands under the warm flowing water using that flowery smelling liquid soap she loved to buy.  The mud formed clumps on his fingers which under the flow of the water plopped into the sink and washed down the plug hole.  He looked at his nails and saw a mass of dirt under each one.  Muttering under his breath he reached for the nail brush drops of dirty brown water splashed across the sink.  He scrubbed on each nail vigorously to remove the dirt from underneath.  Once he had finished his left hand he examined each nail, they looked clean.  He started on his right hand when he was sure he heard a knock at the door, he knew she would get it.  Probably for her anyway he thought.  He turned to reach for the hand towel and that was when he spotted the muddy footprints leading in from the garden.  A small smile crept across his face, it did not last long, for he knew he would have to clean it up before she came nagging.

“Right,” she said suddenly appearing next to him,

“Let me see how you have done,” she said stepping around the muddy footprints and into the garden.  He sighed and crossed his fingers behind his back and said a silent pray in his head hoping he had done a good job.  He watched as she strolled around the borders of the garden checking each and every flower he had spent the last two hours planting.  She stopped next to the pansies and turned, with just one finger she began to summon him over.  He took a deep breath and walked to where she stood now with her back to him.

“These are not right,” she said pointing at the pansies.

“OK,” he said.

“Space the out a bit more,” she said moving onto the next set of flowers.  As she approached the tulips he hoped he had planted them in straight enough line, she wanted them like soldiers all in perfect rows with perfect spacing.  He could not see the point of it but he dare not ask the reasoning, he knew better than too question her.  Occasionally he would say something and no sooner had the words left his lips then he would regret opening his mouth.  She had a vicious tounge and made his life a misery.  He watched as she wondered up and down in front of them.  She turned to face him and his heart starting beating faster, his back started aching from just the thought of having to replant them all again.  She simply smiled, turned back and carried on with the other borders.  He let out a sigh in relief when the garden inspection was done.  She then turned her attention to the muddy footprints.

“Clean those up will you,” she said stepping around them again and back indoors.

“Yes boss,” he muttered under his breath and gave a quick salute. He followed his steps back inside and opened the cupboard under the sink, from there he took the bucket and an old cloth.  He filled the bucket up half way and then with a groan lowered himself to his knees, they immediately started hurting as soon as they hit the hard floor, reminding him of the last two hours in the garden.  He whisked the cloth over the footprints and removed all the traces of the mud.  With a lot of effort he lifted himself off his knees and to a standing position, he leaned on the sink for support.  He tipped the water from the bucket down the sink careful not to spill any.  Then put it and the cloth back into the cupboard. He proceeded to the kitchen with the thought of a nice mug of tea in his mind.

“Have you done the pansies?” she asked.

“No I will once I have had a cuppa,” he said.

“Well best hurry along, the night is drawing in,” she said

“Will do,” he said filling the kettle, resisting the urge to salute again.

Once the kettle was boiled he made himself a long awaited mug of tea just the way he liked it, two sugars and a dash of milk. As he sat there taking small sips from his mug he could see her chopping up some carrots for their dinner, it was roast chicken tonight.  He was as she placed the saucepan onto the hob, she then turned to him and tapped the face on her watch a couple of times, this was her way of hurrying him up.  With a deep sigh he took his mug to the sink and with one quick flick he emptied the remaining tea down the drain.  He quickly rinsed his mug sensing her eyes watching his every move.

“Quickly then Dennis,” she said

“It will be too dark for you to see otherwise” she added.

“I know I am going now,” he said.

“Don’t forget to feed them all too, the food is under the sink out there in a red box,” she called after him.

“I won’t," he called back.  He opened the cupboard and dug around he could not see a red box in there.  He knew he would have to look harder, he dare not tell her could not find it.  He was just about to bite the bullet and ask for her help when he spotted it, right at the back behind the watering can.  Thank goodness for that he thought.  He read the instructions on the back of the box.  Two scoops of powder to 50ml of water, stir well and then pour onto the plants. Easy enough he thought opening the box expecting to find the scoop inside.  Nothing.  Damn he thought as he placed the box next to the sink.

“I need a scoop for the feed,” he said

“Try that draw,” she said putting the potatoes in the oven

He rummaged around in the draw, no sign of a scoop he did find however a large spoon.  It would do he thought. 

Half an hour later he had replanted the pansies and fed all the plants. 

“Mary,” he called out

“I am done,” he said.

She came out into the garden and inspected the pansies once more.  This time they passed.

“Excellent,” she said

“Dinner is almost ready” she added going back indoors.

He once again washed his hands, they were not so bad this time. He looked to his left expecting to see the spoon he had used for the plant food in order to give it a wash.  It was not there. 

“Dinner,” she called.

He walked into the kitchen and spotted the spoon, she was using it to stir the gravy. He hated gravy.

“Are your hands clean?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said holding them out for inspection.

A thought rushed through his head, had she cleaned or wiped that spoon?  Should I tell her I used it for the plant food?  He decided no to both, there was probably nothing on it anyway.

With dinner all dished up he watched as she poured the gravy all over her potatoes and chicken.  He watched as she took a mouthful.  He started to eat his own all the while keeping an eye on her.  She started coughing, she reached for her glass and fumbled knocking it over.  He kept eating and watching her, eventually she fell off her chair, he heard a thud as she hit the floor.  He took a few more mouthfuls to clear his plate and then got up and go to where she lay. With the edge of his foot he gave her a nudge in her back.  No response.

He scrubbed his hands with that flowery smelling liquid soap she loved to buy, removing all the mud from his fingers once again.  He looked out the door and in the moonlight he could see the tulips were gone, where they once stood was now a mound of freshly dug ground.  He had plans for there maybe a fountain, or a bench but definitely no flowers. When he had dried his hands he picked up the liquid soap bottle and threw it into the bin, a big smile spread across his face. 

 

Author's Note

Not sure on the ending of this one.