Chapter 5

It took a moment for Jim to compose himself.

"Sorry. Just a bit shocked. I didn't see anyone around. I really need to use a phone," Jim replied.

"There's no one in. And if there was, they wouldn't answer the door unless they're expecting someone," Wurzel explained. "I've got a phone, but there's no signal round here."

"I noticed."

"So, you'd better be on your way then."

"My car's broken down," Jim said, trying to elicit some sympathy from the imposing figure standing over him. "I really need to call someone to help. There was nowhere else to go."

"Mm. Well, if you walk a bit along the road you'll eventually get a signal. Only a mile, maybe, and you'll be able to get something."

Jim considered his physical state of saturation and mental state of exhaustion. He looked at the Wurzel, nodded and stood up. Wurzel's face softened a little and he said,

"Look. I'm just over in the shed. You can have a cup of tea if you want. You look freezing."

"Oh, nice one. Yes please, mate. It's Baltic."

Wurzel seemed to grunt quietly and walked away. Jim took this as his signal to follow and shuffled on behind him. They walked into a large shed full of clippers, shears, black bags, lengths of rope, stepladders, coiled wire, hedge trimmers and things Jim did not know the name for.

"I'm the gardener." Wurzel said, as if his surroundings required explanation.

"OK," replied Jim. "Are you cutting the lawns in this weather?"

"No. Waste of time. I'd be creating more mud than anything else. Ground's proper soaked. Sugar?"

"Oh. No thanks. I'm sweet enough." Jim smiled at Wurzel, but the gardener seemed to miss the joke. Tea was poured from a large, clearly old Thermos flask into a plastic cup. It already had milk in, so Jim was glad he hadn't mentioned he preferred it black. Wurzel handed him the cup and began to pour one for himself.

"What's your name?" Asked the gardener.

"Jeff," Jim lied, "You?"

"Gerald."

Gerald put the lid back on the Thermos and sat on a stack of rectangular, garden centre compost bags. He nodded at another stack in offer for Jim to do likewise. Jim sat.

"Cheers," Jim said. "I hadn't really noticed how cold it was until now."

"Not exactly dressed for the weather are you?" Gerald said, more of a statement than a question.

"I was actually driving down to the gym before the car conked out. Rain didn't look so bad when I started."

"Mmm." Gerald replied, looking into his cup, seemingly not a regular social tea drinker.

"Look. It is freezing. But, you won't get any help out here. Best thing for you to do is warm up a bit and just walk until you get someone on your phone."

"Yeah. Will do. Thanks." He suddenly felt incredibly lethargic. The tea was weak and cold, so he only managed to swallow a few mouthfuls out of politeness.

Jim's bones ached, his head felt foggy, and his nose was numb. He wished he was asleep in bed. He wished he had gone to sleep in his car. This excursion to medieval England had been a waste of time.

"Right," Gerald groaned as he stood up, "I've got loads more jobs to be getting on with around the estate so I can't sit around. How about you finish your tea. Have another one if you want. It'll only get poured on the floor. When you're ready just shut the shed door and put the padlock back to hold it shut."

"Alright mate. No worries. Thanks again."

"Waste of bloody time really. You could pull the door off its hinges if you wanted to. I'm surprised we've never had the tools stolen."

Probably because no one ever comes down into the back end of beyond, thought Jim before simply saying, "Yeah. I see what you mean."

Gerald walked out the door without looking back or saying goodbye. He seemed less than concerned with what Jim might do with the tools and more focused on where he was supposed to be. He might be old, but he looked strong and well-built. Probably a perk of the job, thought Jim, plenty of exercise and weight-lifting in a job like this. Bollocks to working outdoors though.