Chapter 7: Work

Louise

Tuesday morning he had me dress in working clothes. Fortunately the weather had turned a little on the cool side so wearing trousers, boots and a long sleeved shirt I wasn't over warm. The house, 'The Grange', we went to was less than a mile away. An old Victorian place with a huge garden that had been neglected for many years until the elderly occupier died and the place was sold. The new owner, a Mr. Roberts, wanted an assessment of the possibility of restoring it more or less to what it was at the start of the 20^th century.

We arrived promptly at nine. Mr. Roberts, a big man, came out and greeted us and Eric introduced me as his new trainee on work experience. "She's no knowledge at the moment but she will have by the time we're done." At the time all I could see was a mass of overgrown shrubs, interwoven with brambles and nettles. We wandered around to the parts we could get at and Eric pointed out ornamental trees and shrubs that might be worth keeping. To me one was much like the other especially when largely hidden by the overgrowth.

Part way round we were joined by Heather, who I assumed was Mr. Roberts's wife from the way she spoke, and she shared her husband's enthusiasm for putting the garden in order. Eric suggested the best plan would be to clear the unwanted growth, make a plan with the keepable trees and shrubs on it and go from there. "It will take at least a week to get the ground more or less clear, more if we have to cart all the debris over to the dump at Hallerton. Will you have any objection to us burning it on site, provided we take the usual precautions?"

"Can't you chip the woody bits and compost the soft material?" Heather asked and added they were going to try and be as organic as possible once the garden was more or less in order.

"We can chip the smaller stuff but not the bigger branches and shrubs."

"They can be cut into log size lengths," Roberts said and didn't worry when Eric said that would take more time and cost more. I could see the whole job taking all of my indentured service time.

They talked some more and I more or less kept out of it except that I wondered what my role in clearing the nettles and brambles would be. "Looks like I'm being sentenced to hard labour now and I bet I know who will be doing the donkey work," I mused. At least my arse wasn't quite so sore but I could still feel it when I moved.

We went back to the house for lunch and to load the trailer with tools for the afternoon. "Go into the kitchen and make us an omelette for lunch while I sort out the tools," Eric ordered. I hadn't any real idea what to do but I'd seen mother whip up some eggs and throw them in a pan. I don't know what went wrong, but the result was a sticky awful mess. Totally uneatable! Eric took one look at it and commented, "What a disaster. We can't eat that!" I expected to get punished again and tears ran down my face. "Come here." His voice sounded angry and stern.

"Please, please ... it just wouldn't go right. I told you I couldn't cook." My pleas didn't seem to make any difference. He pulled my trousers down and bared my arse. It was still very tender from the thrashing so I kept begging him not to hit me. "Please, no. I couldn't help it." He seemed to ignore them and I struggled when I saw him raise his hand high and prepared myself for another painful session. However, his hand descended slowly and gave my flesh two very gentle pats and then pulled my trousers up again and cuddled me.

"Let that be a lesson to you," he grinned.

I couldn't help laughing too, mostly from the relief but I managed to call him a 'cruel master'.

Mother popped in at that moment. "I'm not interrupting anything am I? She tried to laugh when she saw the apology for an omelette. "It still hurts when I laugh," she said. I tried not to look at her face but couldn't help myself.

"Bin it Louise. Would you like to stay for lunch?" he asked Mum, "Take pot luck, Louise is going to try and make us another omelette."

"I'll make you one," mother offered but Eric insisted I learn to do it. Under their instructions the omelette turned out successfully. "I think that is the first time ever, you have made me a meal," commented Mum.

"If I have my way it won't be the last but she will need more practice at cooking before that happens."

She didn't eat much and she drank her tea in tiny sips, I could tell it was because moving her jaws hurt her swollen face and again began to regret what I had done. Still I couldn't go back in time and my arse had paid the price, hadn't it? Well perhaps it was a bargain price.

We went back to work at The Grange in the afternoon. Like one of my old school teachers, he showed me how to hold a stick in one hand to keep the nettles away from my face and wield the sickle with the other. "Try and keep a nice easy rhythm so you don't tire yourself out. This was probably the kitchen garden area and there's not too many shrubs and brambles so it shouldn't be too difficult for your first job," he told me, "Remember nettles this big can give you a nasty sting." Of course I only half took notice except when he mentioned the stinging bit. There seemed a huge expanse of them and I expected it to take several days to clear.

A first I started to mimic what I'd been shown but before long I attacked them as though they were the enemy and slashed vigorously using far more energy than necessary. I saw them as people, Eric, Ernie, the pimp, the prostitutes, all submitting to me and being cut down to size. Eric kept well away but frequently looked in my direction. Soon though the heat and the sweat began to irritate me, my trousers chafed my bum and my temper rose. I threw down the sickle. Eric came to me and I was a bit afraid that I might have earned another spanking but he quietly said, "Finish cutting that corner and then get the wooden rake from the trailer and gather what you've cut into one heap." I glared at him and nearly told him to sod off but I managed not to say anything at all. In the back of my mind I knew he was making it easier for me by ordering the raking but gradually as the heat took it toll and my long trousers and long sleeved shirt became soaked with sweat, my anger at my slavery increased. Finally, when I had most of the nettles gathered together, I threw the rake on top of the heap. Unfortunately the impact caused a vicious nettle stem to poke up my trouser leg and sting my ankle. That was the last straw. For a few moments I just stood and swore at the offending pile, at Eric and everyone that had caused me to be in this situation.

When Eric approached me again, I grabbed the rake as a weapon to defend myself but he stopped a few feet away. "Put the rake down Louise. Take a break. Walk around the garden until you've calmed down. You've done pretty well so far, so don't get yourself in trouble by losing that temper of yours."

I didn't need telling twice and still muttering and swearing to myself, I walked round to the front gate and for a little while debated whether or not to make a break for it, but then I would be in the same situation as I was a few days ago. My prospects looked bleak and crying and muttering loudly, I walked along the main drive towards the front door of the large house. It was a little cooler in the shade from the avenue of trees but I hardly saw them through my tears.