Short Story: The Things We Do For…

Short Story: The Things We Do For Love

My husband Ronnie opened the envelope he’d just found in our mailbox, read it and banged on the kitchen table. “Can you believe it, Peg, that woman next door’s on again about me getting rid of my scarecrow? What will she come up with next? Blasted interloper!”

His face was turning that frightening shade of purple, a sure sign that he was more than upset by our neighbour Hermione’s latest antics. Worried about his blood pressure, I stopped clearing the breakfast dishes from the kitchen table and set about calming him down. “Now take a deep breath. You know we’ve both agreed that Charlie is getting to be a bit of a sight. Would it be such a bad thing to give him the old heave-ho?”

Not that it’s just Charlie we have to worry about. That old scarecrow has never scared anything, but has given shelter to all kinds of birds and insects. A really nice, hard working little family are living in there right now.

Honestly, given the look of horror on his face, you’d think I’d suggested running around the garden naked. I don’t want rid of Charlie either but we’ve had a lot of worries lately. We need a bit of peace and quiet, and time to get our lives back on track. But Ronnie was having none of it. “Might I remind you, Peg, we’ve had scarecrows here since my mum and dad owned this property - and if I have anything to do with it, we’ll have scarecrows when I turn up my toes and go to my maker.”

I gave him a warning look and cleared away the dishes. “Remember you‘ve had a time of it lately. You have to think of your health.” As I wiped the tabletop I couldn‘t help smiling. “And it just seems a daft thing to be arguing over since Charlie doesn‘t scare any crows - any birds actually. In fact, you know he attracts them. “

He lifted up the newspaper, shook it vigorously and glared at me. “There’s nothing daft about it! I’m not past it yet and if that woman next door doesn’t stop her squawking about Charlie…stop harassing us altogether. Well, she just better look out, that’s all. Hermione, blasted, Soames. Who does she think she is?”

I shook my head at my husband and reached out and took his hand. “Now don’t get all wound up, we’ll take care of it. Hermione’s typical of the kind we’re getting down here on the coast now - lots of money, and no sense. I’ve heard some rumours down at the shop that her husband left her for their cleaner. She’s probably just trying to make herself feel important by throwing her weight around a bit.”

Ronnie grabbed the arms of his wheelchair and guided it to the window overlooking our large, lush garden. It broke my heart to hear the great sigh come from him.

“I’m telling you, Peg, I don’t blame her husband for running off. Imagine living with Hermione. That woman is wearing me down. Flippin’ townies. They come down here and take over and try to change the place. As if we haven’t enough problems lately. She’s no idea!”

We’ve had a rough time of it lately, with Ronnie and his accident. It‘s been hard for him, poor love, but with the help of good friends we’ve organised the garden so that everything is waist height and he’s out there, happy and occupied, morning till night.

The doctors are amazed at his progress and say that if this keeps up he’ll be back to his old self within the year. This was the prognosis before our new neighbour, Hermione Soames moved in and caused mayhem. She’s complained about everything including the noise from our air conditioner. She claims that our fence is actually overlapping her property. We don’t know what to make of her. We’ve lived here for over twenty years and never had a minute’s trouble with our last neighbours. Any of our neighbours, for that matter…

Her latest is all this kafuffle over Charlie. She’s been nothing but a nasty piece of work since the start and I’ve decided it’s time to have it out with her. “I’ll pay her a visit when I get back from my stint at the charity shop. Maybe when she realises how much the scarecrow means to you she’ll find something else to occupy her time.”

I put on my coat and kissed the top of his head. “Now, Ronnie, I don‘t want you going over there. Hermione doesn’t seem to care that you’ve been ill and she’ll only upset you more. Remember your blood pressure! “

When I left for the shop Ronnie seemed happy enough in his potting shed. He even smiled and waved goodbye to me. I prayed Hermione would keep her distance till I got back.

I was glad that the shop was busy, and the hours flew by. I told Mavis another volunteer what was going on with Hermione. Her eyes lit up as she told me something about my neighbour that gave me an idea how to solve our problem. At closing time I was first out the door. I had a feeling of foreboding and was anxious to get home to Ronnie.

The look on his face when I walked into the kitchen let me know right away that all was not well. “Can you believe it?” he shouted. “Now she wants us to get rid of the bird feeders. Seems the blasted birds are making too much noise! What will it be next? Will the wheels on my chair annoy her? Will we still be able to breathe without disturbing her ladyship? I’m telling you, Peg, we won‘t be able to talk in our own garden next. It’s a wonder she doesn‘t want the church bells stopped!”

I quickly took off my coat and filled the kettle. “Come on, love,” I said, giving him a cuddle. “I’ll go over and have a word with her right away - see what all this is about.”

He shook his head. “I mean, Peg, why would anyone want to move to the country if they don‘t like birds? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Now I’m the gentlest of women, but seeing the state Ronnie was in filled me with such rage I could barely speak. I made the tea, settled Ronnie in front of the television and walked round to Hermione’s house.

She took ages to answer the door and when she finally threw it open her welcome was icy to say the least. Within minutes I could see I was getting nowhere.

I tried again to explain how ill Ronnie had been - to make her see the pressure she was putting on us.

She was less than sympathetic. “Let me be quite clear. I paid good money for this house and I plan to enjoy it to the full. The scarecrow is an eyesore and it attracts all those noisy birds, rather than chasing them away. No, nothing you say will change my mind, Mrs. Jones. And you can tell your husband if that thing isn’t moved by morning, I’ll move it myself.”

I looked into her little piggy eyes. “I can see there’s no reasoning with you. It certainly won’t be moved tonight as we’ll be going to a play in the village after dinner. I‘ll talk to Ronnie in the morning, but I wouldn‘t be surprised if he tells you to go and jump in the sea.”

“The time for talk is over! It’s time for action.” Hermione shouted, slamming the door in my face.

I told Ronnie not too worry that Hermione and I had had a long talk. However I didn’t tell him how unsuccessful that talk was. He seemed to cheer up and I have to say we had a lovely evening. The play, Romeo and Juliet, was really well done. It’s always been special to us as it was the first play we saw together. I bit back tears when it came to my two favourite lines. How fares my Juliet? That I ask again; for nothing can be ill, if she be well. I knew listening to Romeo that I’d made the right decision.

For wasn’t it the same with Ronnie and me. For nothing can be ill, if he be well. He just had to get well again.

As we made our way back to our cottage we talked of all the things we’d do when he recovered fully. We’d had big plans to travel before his accident and talked about all the places we’d visit. It was a perfect night, Ronnie had the old sparkle back in his eyes, and for the first time in weeks Hermione’s name wasn’t even mentioned.

As we turned the corner to our house we saw that the street was filled with people. There was even a crew from the local television station in front of our house.

If Ronnie was surprised to see the ambulance at our cottage, he hid it well. We made our way through the police and medical people and saw Hermione lying alongside Charlie. She seemed like she was hugging him. She also looked quite dead…

The police were very kind, if a bit puzzled.

A young sergeant escorted us into the cottage and sat us down. He instructed his sidekick to make us all a nice cup of tea. “I know this must be upsetting for you both, but it looks like Mrs. Soames was trying to steal your scarecrow. The bees inside it were disturbed and stung her to death, seems she was allergic to the sting.” the sergeant said, scratching his head. “Kind of a strange thing to steal - but we see it all in this job. It takes all kinds I suppose.”

I nodded my head and was relieved when the constable came back with the tea. This was a lot to take in.

The sergeant made sympathetic noises and stayed for a while to see that we were all right, and when everyone had gone I wheeled Ronnie through the garden at twilight. I inhaled the scent of honeysuckle and freshly mown grass. Charlie was upright again and I swear he winked at me. I smiled at him hoping the bees had settled back into their nest in his hat after being disturbed. After all, they’ve been here almost as long as we have, and they did do their bit to protect my Ronnie.

Just when you think there’s no solution something crops up to help you see a way forward. Thing is, I overhear a lot at that charity shop. It seems Hermione had her eye on our property. Rumour had it she wanted us out and she didn’t care what she had to do to get rid of us. It’s funny, I’ve lived in the country all my life and Hermione Soames is the first person I’ve actually met who was deadly allergic to bees.

The things we do for love…