Hot as a hare, blind as a bat

[gardenplots]

Maggie sets her trowel on the ground and sits back on her heels. The Datura didn't need deadheading, yet the evidence lay before her eyes: small, precise cuts separating flowers and leaves from stem. The Heart rises to her feet in a smooth motion that belies her age and makes her way down the neat cutting beds. No mistake. Someone's come in with small sheers and pruned some of her more interesting plants. Foxglove, morning glory, monkshood, castor oil plant, someone's disturbed them all. Lovely.

"How very unwise of my uninvited guest," she murmurs to herself before turning back to the gate and inspecting the lock. An enterprising soul could hop the wall, but in this case, a close look reveals scratch marks around the mechanism. A short walk brings her to her Cannabis plot. Unmolested. She claims to grow the weed for medicinal reasons--indeed, she has a prescription for it. But truth be told, she enjoys the relaxation it brings her and never begrudges a few leaves here and there should anyone ask her. Yet the plants escaped this latest harvest. Clearly, her prowler hadn't cared about medicine.

"I suppose I'll need to reinstall the surveillance cameras. And let one of the Faces know so they can pass the word along. Bloody nuisance." 

Comments

[heneiddio]

"Dunna you be wasting a drop of Laphroaig on account of me, Ma'am Sinjin." A bit more her father's pronunciation than her husband's, but she's not certain she isn't pleased to sound more like her childhood home than her marital one these days. "Already more than kind t' have me here at all withou' taking your fine things."

[gardenplots]

"No kindness. Pleasure. I seldom get a chance to have a natter with a woman who understands the world." She fills a generous three fingers in the glasses and returns to the table. "I'm afraid it shocks some of the young ones if they catch me drinking. Silly things. How are you settling in?"

[heneiddio]

"Is the real understanding in knowin' you know so very little, then?"

That seemed to be the new prevailing wisdom of old age. Maybe partly to do with moving here, of course, although she's smiling as she sighs.

"Day by day, as you go." Her fingers rub unconsciously at her wrist, just a little tender. "It is good to see my clean and shining so happy. D'you know, he's acting such a child and refusing to let on he's started seeing a young lady?"

[gardenplots]

"Has he? Silly boy. They always think they're being sly. A mother always knows. You should invite her to dinner." It goes without saying her son can wait until he arrives to learn of the surprise guest.

[heneiddio]

"Soon as I uncover which she is, aye." He couldn't quite tell which of the young lady Clubs he avoided discussing with her it might be. But Maggie's right; a mother always knows. She'll figure it soon enough. "Only hope he's gotten t' have better taste as he's grown up. Canna help but worry, can you."

[gardenplots]

"A man ought to develop better taste as he ages. He's kept himself to himself. He'll be careful when he dips his feet."

[heneiddio]

"An' he did set the bar right low with the first one." But that was long ago. Far away. Not a ghost they needed to bring any more than they needed to bring Peter's.

As much as they could.

"Go on with you, then. Iechyd da, luv."


{*Cheers,}

[gardenplots]

At their age, they have quite enough ghosts, thank you very much. Maggie clinks her glass to Roisin's. She'd always thought it best to leave them buried. "Cheers."