Free Small Holdings by Nicola Barker Page A

on to it. She began leafing through. ‘Pull up a pew, Phil. Take the weight off your bad foot.’ I remained standing, breathing into a clump of tissue.
    ‘OK . . . OK . . .’ Saleem rifled through the top few sheets. She pulled something out. ‘Privet!’ she announced, excitedly, ‘Bingo!’ She passed it over to me. I looked at it. An advance order requesting privet amounting to the sum of fifteen hundred pounds.
    Saleem carried on rifling. She said, ‘I don’t know how the hell he’s intending to explain away this little lot tomorrow at the meeting.’
    I looked over at Ray. ‘Fifteen hundred pounds,’ I said, miserably.
    Ray shifted his weight. ‘Maybe you should ring them,’ he volunteered, ‘and tell them we can’t actually afford to pay for it.’
    ‘Maybe.’
    My head felt weightless. My head felt like the bright-faced bulb of yellow sunflower. All colour, display, no substance. I pulled out a chair and sat down.
    ‘Saleem,’ I said, gently, ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier. About Wu not destroying Doug’s greenhouse. Because if Wu didn’t destroy it, then who did?’
    ‘Vandals.’
    ‘They didn’t break in. They had a key.’
    ‘Clever vandals. You’re dripping blood on the floor.’
    I looked down. Cog had appeared at my feet and was nosing at the drops of blood. His little pink tongue protruded and he started to lap it up. I bent over to push him away and as I bent, my head started rolling and roaring like it was full of buzzing, like it was a fluffy bumble just about to detach itself, to fly off.
    It would have flown, I’m sure it would have flown, except for the fact that at that exact moment Nancy burst into the kitchen and yanked me up. She stared into my face. ‘Listen,’ she said, breathless, ‘that’s Doug.’
    Slowly, I blinked. ‘Doug?’ I tried to focus on her face but her eyes were everywhere. I tried to focus.
    ‘He’s taken the tractor. That’s him, outside. Listen.’
    Saleem stuffed the papers into the folder, threw the folder into the cutlery drawer, grabbed hold of my arm. ‘Outside,’ she said, ‘come on.’
    Actually, we must’ve looked quite funny, the four of us, standing there in a line, like we were preparing to be presented to the Queen in a formal ceremony. Just outside the gate, near the Ladies toilets, we had a full view of Doug, the tractor, the lakes, the greenhouses, the hill opposite, the whole damn vista.
    ‘Where’s he going?’ Ray asked. ‘Any ideas?’
    ‘Maybe he’s thinking about mowing the grass patch just beyond the bandstand,’ I suggested. Saleem snorted. Nancy said, ‘He doesn’t have the mower attachment on the back.’
    ‘Did he say anything?’ Ray asked, ‘to you?’
    Nancy shook her head. ‘Nope. Just picked up the heavy-headed axe and climbed into the tractor.’
    Ray looked at me. I shrugged.
    ‘This is it.’ Saleem said. ‘This is the big one.’
    ‘How? ‘ I asked, losing patience, almost.
    ‘I’ll bet you any amount he’s going to drive that tractor straight into the greenhouse.’
    The tractor trundled and grumbled, between the lakes, beyond the lakes.
    ‘He wouldn’t do that.’
    ‘Wanna bet?’ Saleem put out her hand, palm skywards.
    ‘He wouldn’t do that.’
    Beyond the lakes, up the hill. I saw the tractor’s rear indicator flashing right. Saleem chortled at this. ‘My God,’ she said, ‘he’s a one-off. He’s fucking crazy.’
    A sharp, right turn, a questionable gear-change. ‘Ouch,’ Nancy muttered. And then, a revving, a roaring, a speeding up.
    ‘He’s bending down,’ Ray said, perturbed, ‘not even looking where he’s going.’
    ‘I know what he’s up to,’ Saleem said. ‘He’s weighing down the accelerator with the axe-head.’
    Fifteen foot to go. Ten foot, five. Doug bounced out of the tractor and landed, cat-careful, on all fours, stayed hunched for a moment, stood up. The tractor - ‘I told you! I told you’ Saleem cackled - slowed down for a