Page 44 of Rough Around the Hedges

“Don’t bother. It’s a waste of your breath.”

“Did you do the naked calendar last year?”

“Why?” I asked. “Do you want to see me naked?”

His lips quirked to one side, and he quickly leant in and whispered, “I already did.”

I shoved my elbow into him, knocking him off balance, and shot to my feet. I turned my back to both him and Susan as he laughed at me.

If he saw the blush on my cheeks right now, I’d die.

Actually die.

It didn’t sound that bad, to be honest.

“You two seem to be getting along quite well,” Susan said, cutting through my momentary embarrassment. “I’m surprised.”

“Really? You call this getting along?” I asked, snapping my head around.

“Yes,” she mused. “You sound like me and George, and you insist we have feelings for each other. Am I wrong?”

“Wow, Susan. Are you admitting that you’re in love with George?”

Her lips parted. “Never!”

“There we are, then. We are not getting along.” I motioned between me and Oliver. “He won’t leave me alone. That’s all this is. He abused his power to get in here in the first place.”

“Bock-bock-bock,” came from somewhere by the gate.

“Oh! Oliver!” I pointed at him. “Quick, open the gate.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Would it kill you to say please?”

“It might, and quite frankly, I’m unwilling to take the risk,” I said, grabbing the birdseed bag from my shed. “Just get on with it.”

With a sigh, he opened the gate, then did a double take as a stream of chickens hurried in at the sound of me shaking the seed. “What the—”

“Good afternoon, Waffles, Pancake,” I said, tossing some seed on my path. “Oh, everyone’s here! Roll, Bap, Barmcake. Hello, babies!” I tossed Pancake a little more for the chicks as she did her little magic clucking thing to take credit for my seeds. “Sourdough, Panini, Loaf, Baguette, Crumpet—damn it, Tortilla, get out of my courgettes! No, no! Bad chicken!”

“Oh, Waffles has brought the whole harem today,” Susan said, peeking over the fence. “Here, I have this marrow that’s gone over. Let me cut it up for them so they’ll leave yours alone.”

“Thanks, Susan.” I shoved the bag of seed at Oliver and picked up Tortilla, who clucked in protest at me taking her away from my young courgettes. “No, we’ve discussed your thievery, Tortilla.”

“Bock-bock,” she replied.

“No, it’s not bock-bock, it’s ‘yes, Rose.’ ‘Yes, mistress,’ if you’re feeling fancy.”

“Bock-bock.”

“Bock-bock here instead.” I put her down in the middle of the seeds right as Loaf pecked at Roll and got a beating from Pancake for her troubles. “Ladies, please, we have company! Mind your manners.”

“Are you… talking to the chickens?”

I peered at Oliver. “It’s perfectly normal to talk to your pets.”

“And these are your pets?” He pointed at the chickens. “That you named after various types of bread and breakfast foods?”

“Of course. What else would I call my chickens?”

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