Family Plot

Kenny Marshall walked slowly up the driveway to his neighbour’s garage. He stood still for a moment and watched the familiar dazzling light as it flashed from beneath the door, creating fleeting, jittery shadows. He took a drink of his beer and checked his watch, 8:29. It was almost dark and the air had that first taste of autumn.

A loud clunk from inside told him it was safe to enter. He lifted the door and ducked under.

Mike Corden was putting aside the last of his welding gear. As he hung up the face mask he turned to see his neighbour staring at the latest project. Mike watched the scowl of concentration going through various degrees of intensity as Kenny walked around the workbench, looking from all angles and trying to figure out what it was.

Mike wiped his hands and his sweaty brow. Kenny liked to try and guess. Sometimes he would get it right. Mike’s smile faded, ‘You won’t guess it this time!’ he thought.

The scowl faded to a blank stare which then became an easy going raising of the eyebrows, Kenny was like an old man sometimes, but delightful with it.

“Okay, Mike. I’m ready to guess now.”

“And I’m ready to hear it.”

“Is it one of those things off a castle door, you know a…what do you call them…a pork-”

Mike looked at him blankly for a second and then smiled, “A portcullis?”

“That’s it, yeah. A portcullis! Am I right?”

“Sorry, neighbour,” Mike shook his head, “no prize today!”

“Aww, what then…what is it, Mike?”

“It’s nothing really. Just welding practice with leftover bits of flat and round bar.”

“It’s nothing; you mean you weren’t making something?”

“Just messing around.”

“Well that’s not fair…how am I supposed to guess that?”

Mike was amused by Kenny’s reaction, but could see his point, it would be impossible to guess.

Kenny handed him a cold beer. “I see the house finally sold. When are you leaving, Mike?”

“In about a month or two.”

“What kind of new neighbours am I getting?” Kenny asked nervously.

“A retired couple, I haven’t met them,” He opened the beer and drank half down, “the agent said they were nice enough.” He belched loudly.

“It won’t be the same when you’re gone.” Kenny lamented, “Do you think you’ll ever come back?”

Mike pressed the cold can to his forehead. “I honestly don’t know, Kenny.”

“Don’t leave without saying goodbye, okay?”

And off he went leaving Mike alone in the quiet workshop.

He picked up the metal grid. It was quite heavy and very ugly; not his best work, but it would do the job it was made for. ‘You’re right, Kenny, it does look like a portcullis…and it will serve the same purpose!’