Page 10 of Rough Around the Hedges

“That’s true,” Susan mused. “And he is a sweet little boy. I’d prefer he didn’t leave mice outside my shed, though. It drives me batty having to ask George to get rid of the dead little critters.”

“He’s just bringing you a little present. It means he loves you,” I said, using one of my raised vegetable beds to haul myself to my feet.

“No, it means he thinks I’m too incompetent to feed myself.”

“And he loves you so much he’s helping you out with that,” I replied. “Whatever it is, he pretty much saved us when that bunch of rats moved in over the winter.”

“I know.” She touched her gloved hand to her face, smearing dirt across her cheek. “I just feel so bad when he kills things.”

“It’s a trade-off.” I sighed and picked up my water bottle. “He can’t catch birds to save his life, so I don’t mind the mice and rats. Plus, he’s a natural deterrent for rodents for the most part just by virtue of his presence.”

“I suppose. If he weren’t here, we’d have a nightmare with rats and the chickens.” Susan sighed dramatically. “Then the council would be on our last nerves about managing them, and I suppose Hades is better than poison.”

“What a strange sentence to arrive to.” Isa popped open my gate. “There’s a massive hullabaloo out there, by the way. Do you know what’s going on?”

“Ugh.” I dropped my head back and stared up at the clear, blue sky. “That meanshe’shere, doesn’t it?”

“Who’s here?” Isa asked. “Prince William? Theo James? Henry Cavill? Tom Hardy?”

“Isn’t Henry Cavill the superman bloke?” Susan asked. “What would Superman be doing in Hanbury?”

“Same as all the other rich people who come here,” Isa replied. “Buying our houses for overinflated prices and killing the property market for locals.”

Ouch.

Why didn’t she tell us how she really felt?

Susan shook her head, sighing forlornly. “It’s getting harder and harder to live an idyllic country life.”

“I think Henry Cavill has better things to do than buy a house in Hanbury,” I said, putting my water bottle down.

“Right, but you still haven’t told us what you’re talking about.” Isa poked around in one of my raised beds. “Hey, you missed a courgette. It’s about to break out and stage a coup.”

Fucking courgettes.

They were the bane of my existence.

“I have no idea how they manage to always hide.” I shuffled over to where she was and moved the leaves aside. Thank God I was wearing my gloves—there was nothing worse than getting stabbed by those spiky little hairs on the stems.

“Hey,” Isa said, staring at the courgette. “How do you always manage to grow vegetables bigger than my ex’s dick?”

“I’ve grown radishes longer than his dick.”

Susan snorted. “Isn’t your ex that handsome vet you work with? He did my Merlot’s annual check-up last week, and I felt like a schoolgirl every time he smiled at me.”

Only Susan would name her dog after her favourite wine.

And flirt with a vet who was young enough to be her son.

Not that I was judging her. If I were, I’d judge her for her crush on George before deriding her for fancying her vet.

You go get yourself a tasty little boytoy, Susan.

Isa spun and pointed an accusatory finger at her. “Wrong ex.”

“She only went out with him for three weeks,” I said, peeking around Isa to look at the older woman. “I don’t know if we can call him an ex.”

Susan narrowed her eyes. “Was there something wrong with his penis, Isa?”

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