Those in Glasshouses
“What are those men doing out in the garden?” Joey asks peering out the kitchen window.
“Erecting my glasshouse and potting shed. They shall be finished by Thursday.”
“What happened to baking?”
“That was last month, do keep up Joe.”
“Oh, so no more sweet treats.” He comments looking somewhat disappointed. “Some of them were rather good.”
“Yes and some were inedible crap.” He shakes his head and sighs.
“Please don’t take up clay pigeon shooting.” He says exiting the kitchen, smartarse git. Come to think of it though I haven’t done any clay shooting since, forever actually. Extracting the A6 leather-bound notebook I purchased to write everything I’ve been too busy to do I write clay shooting in bold letters with asterisks at either side. Bloody hell my list is getting dangerously out of hand. My phone rings, it’s Pearse, answering it I say, “What’s your boggle?”
“My boggle is that I can’t get up the bloody driveway, there is a concrete lorry sitting blocking the entrance.”
“Oh, have you asked him to move.”
“What, no, he looks scary?”
“Don’t be such a bloody wimp and ask the nice man if he can move his lorry.”
“Can you do it for me?”
“Fine, wait there I’ll be out in a minute.” Pulling on my wellingtons, I make my way across the courtyard and down to the front entrance gate. “Geoff can you move the lorry for me please, the super wimp needs to get in.”
“Sure thing.” He says hopping into the cab of his lorry and moving it out of the way.
Saluting him, I say, “Thanks. Lunch is at 12 we’re getting Korean today.”
“Cheers, love.” He says, jumping down from the cab. Pearse pulls up into the courtyard, getting out of the car one of the workmen wolf whistles at him.
“Haha.” He comments, quickening his step as he makes his way up to the house.
“Play nice boys.”
“Shouldn’t they be working at Anna’s?” He asks, throwing his keys into the key bowl that sits on the hall stand.
“Not this week, I’ve commandeered them for a little project here, and considering I am the one still paying their wages, I can decide where they should be working.”
“What is all that anyways? It looks like a bomb has gone off in the garden.”
“They’re putting up my glasshouse and potting shed.”
“Oh. Wow, I go away for a couple of days, and I come back to Kew Gardens being erected out the back. What happened to the baking empire you were going to found?”
“It fell flat, much like my sponge cakes and bread.”
“True they were disasters, for the most part, the cookies and fairy cakes were yummy though.”
“How did the seminar go? Exciting as always?”
“Bloody waste of time, there was nothing new that I couldn’t just have done a quick search on the net for.”
“Go have a bath and I’ll make you some cookies, I hid a few logs of dough in the freezer.”
“Love you, Oli.” He says, kissing me, his aftershave tantalises the end of my nose. “Love you too sweetie.”
“Wanna join me in the bath.”
“What about the cookies?” I ask, sliding my hand inside his shirt, the toned ripples of his abs feel hard against my palm as I slide my hand around his waist. Pulling him closer, I run my tongue up and down his neck.
“Cookies can wait. ” We don’t quite make it as far as the bathroom; in fact, we don’t even make it out of the kitchen. Unzipping his trousers, they unceremoniously fall around his ankles. “You look so sexy in your wellingtons and nightshirt.” He whispers in my ear.
“Where are all my plants, has someone stolen them during the night.” Pearse rolls his eyes, Joey laughs and asks,
“How much research did you do?”
“Loads of it, huge bloody tomes that aren’t in ebook form.”
“What about germination time? It should say on the packet.”
“What, no, I bought mystery packets with no information on them.” Their faces drop.
“What you could be growing anything.”
“Ha got ya, but no I forgot to read about that.” He finds an evil satisfaction that in all my organising I’ve forgotten to record the germination time.
“Google it.” Pearse suggests.
Joey gasps and says, “That’s sacrilege, man.”
“Oh I had no idea there was a particular gardening doctrine we were conforming to.” Pearse comments, scratching his head, is he making fun or is he being genuine, it’s hard to tell sometimes. He can be so very naive about some things; it’s one of the many things I love about him. He’s a grown man, but he still retains a little of that innocence most of us lose with age. Joey, on the other hand, it’s always clear when he is making fun of me, which is most of the time. It’s never in a malicious way he loves getting a reaction from me, and me like an idiot usually falls for it.
“Make fun all you want you two; I’ll show you both.”
“I’m not making fun.” Pearse protests.
“Sure, you’re not.” I say stomping out of the glasshouse.
“She does look sexy when she stomps around in those wellingtons.” I hear one of them say in muffled tones.
“Am I odd for thinking that too?”
“Flattery isn’t going to save either of you now.” I say sticking my head in the glasshouse door. “Now, out of my glasshouse, your negativity is affecting my babies.” Her babies, they mouth at each other.
“Ok, ok we’re leaving, wouldn’t want to upset your plant babies now would we.”
“Heavens no, us men got work to go to, you woman stay home look after babies.” Pearse says trying to be funny but failing epically, poor dear he’s never been much of a comedian.
“Don’t give up your day job sweetie.” I say patting him on the back as he exits the glasshouse, pointing to my right cheek his lips brush against it with a very delicate kiss, he’s still a little uncomfortable full-on kissing in front of Joey he skulks off towards his car.
“Want us to bring something home for dinner?” Joey asks, not being as bashful as Pearse he pulls me in for a long hot kiss, breathing in his scent I nod my head.
“Please yes, I have to go over to grandpa’s to pick some stuff I have there in storage.”
“Anything in particular.”
“Oh, there’s that new Indian that just opened in the high street, got a flyer in the mail about it yesterday.”
“Indian it is then. See you later. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
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