Then out of the blue, out of the sky, a fistful of sand landed in my face. I blinked, shook myself, and then a clod of soil landed to my left followed by a small geranium plant, then a further clod of soil.
I stood up and saw for the first time that the innocuous little man in the white shirt was bending and stretching in the middle of my newly planted flower bed, plum in the middle of my freshly planted flower bed, and he was yanking up plants and tossing them. My new geraniums, the spider plants, other things. This way and that. An arc of soil flew over him.
I jumped off the bandstand and made my way over to him. As I drew closer I saw that he was Chinese and wearing kungfu robes and he was older than Id initially thought sixty or so but his hair was black and his face was hooded, and something in it was scary, was withered, was fundamentally unpleasant.
I jumped off the bandstand and made my way over to him. As I drew closer I saw that he was Chinese and wearing kungfu robes and he was older than Id initially thought sixty or so but his hair was black and his face was hooded, and something in it was scary, was withered, was fundamentally unpleasant.
And yet his expression was in such direct contrast to his body, his movements, which even in his present task were as fluid and beautiful as a seals. I appraised his body as I approached, calculating my chances in the likelihood of any kind of physical confrontation.
He was small but he was also solid and thorough and focused; clenched like a little nugget, a meteorite. Plain like a stone. I drew closer to him, but he ignored me. I drew closer still. I said, Excuse me. I think youd better stop what youre doing.
His head turned, a fraction. You fuck off.
He wasnt nice. His voice was like a dry cork twisting in the neck of a bottle. A tight voice.
I said, again, Id like you to stop what youre doing, immediately, please.
He plucked a geranium, and weighed it in his hand, looked straight at me, took aim, and thwack! He hit me with it, in the centre of my chest. It had quite some clout, for a geranium. I stepped back slightly, and it was then that I thought I saw Doug, in the doorway of his greenhouse, and even from a distance it looked like Doug was smiling.
You know him?
Squeaking voice. I turned back. Pardon?
He pointed towards Doug, You know him?
Who? Doug?
I have a message for him.
For Doug?
Dyou know me?
I glanced over towards Doug again, but Doug had disappeared, had gone. I guessed hed withdrawn, back to his tomatoes.
Do I know you? No. I dont know you.
I am Wu. He offered me a small, slightly muddy hand. Shake.
Gingerly, I offered him my hand. He took it and squeezed it and his grip was like steel.
Wu! Wu! he barked softly. Like a dog, huh? And my hand was crumbling and grinding and liquidizing.
Let go of my hand, please.
Wu pulled me close to him, so close I could feel little sprays of his saliva on my neck as he spoke.
Your friend, he said, I dont like him and I dont want him near me. I dont want him watching me, see? All the time I feel his eyes on me. And you can tell him, from me, that a frog cannot turn into a green leaf.
Ill tell him. Let go of my hand.
He lessened his grip a fraction, pulled me even closer, stood on his tip-toes and whispered directly into my ear, I hope I didnt break your knuckle. Finally, after one more, gentle squeeze, he let go. He wiped his hands clean on his robes and walked off. Slowly, calmly, treading softly.
I looked down at my hand. I tried to wiggle my fingers. I could move my thumb but nothing else. My fingers were purple, the joints were white. The whole hand was burning. I ran over to the lake and dipped my fist in it. But the water didnt help to cool me. It was warm as saliva at its edges. I took my hand out, held it in front of me like a trophy, and went to find Doug.
Doug was watering some tomatoes in his greenhouse. The house was warm and had that rich smell of damp compost which always makes me feel like sneezing: a fine, ripe smell.
Doug watered his tomatoes with enormous tenderness. He didnt take his eyes off them as he spoke.
So he got you, did he?
I stood next to his marrows and his radishes, both of which seemed to be coming on well. The radishes were already the size of tennis balls. I think he broke my hand.
Wu. Hes a devil. Doug chuckled to himself before adding, I cant take my eyes of him. My fault he destroyed the bed. I cant stop myself from watching him and hes warned me. He gets irritable. He chuckled again.
I said, Ive never even seen him before.
Doug moved on to the next bush.
Phil, someone could squat down and shit on your foot and youd hardly notice them.
I let this pass. Pain had made me bold. My hand hurt so much that I could hardly contemplate any other kind of feeling. I said, I dont think you want to have too much to do with that man in the future, Doug.
Wu! Doug said, delightedly. Did you see the way he moves around this place? Flowing, flowing. Like water. Like he owns the whole damn park. And the sky. That special kind of movement. Inside out. Round. That strange oriental kind of moving. Tip-toeing but very sure.
I think he broke my hand.
Doug turned off the hose. Ive been following him about since I moved into the house. Early in the morning he comes to the park, climbs over the fence before we even open, and he does all that strange, slow dancing. Tai Chi. Ive been watching him, I even approached him for a talk but he didnt want disturbing. I think I broke his concentration, Doug said, and so its possible Ive started getting on his nerves.
He said that. He told me to tell you that you were getting on his nerves. I dont think you should pester him any more.
Doug gave this some thought and then for the first time he turned his eyes on me. That sudden violence, he said cheerfully, I like it. I like the idea of it. Its clean.
Hes destroyed the flower bed. I spent half the afternoon planting it.
Hes cleaned it out, Doug said, unperturbed. Good luck to him. I have plans for that section anyway, he added, a couple of big ideas. Icing on the cake.
But for the time being. .
And if Ive learned one thing from that tough little man, Doug said, its that youve got to have your own vision and stick to it. Ignore the rest of lifes radish.
Lifes radish? I echoed, bemused.
Doug nodded. No more rubbish. Only truth.
He then moved a few feet across, fingered the bright shoot of a large onion and said, almost to himself, This ones going to be a giant. I can feel it. I can smell it. He scratched his nose. Do you smell it, Phil? He glanced over at me. Smell it, do you?
Smell what?
Doug sucked his tongue, irritated. You dont see it, Phil, do you? You just dont see how theres a real logic to an onion. One layer inside another layer inside another layer. All circular. Like a maze. A puzzle. Nothing missing. No gaps. Just simple.
My hand was swollen now. It had swelled up like a puffer fish. If he tries to assault me again, I muttered, Ill call the police.
Doug carried on talking to his onion, One layer inside another layer.
Doug. About Nancy. .
Whosoever diggeth a pit, Phil, shall fall in it. Nancy dug her pit. Shes fallen into it.
Even so. .
Doug began to scowl. I want big, Phil, and I want neat. Big, neat, clean, true. Not just the park itself, but everything. The whole lot. The business, the talking, the ideas. Big, clean, neat, true. None of that muddy stuff, none of that green fruit, nothing unripe, none of that murky water.
I looked down at my hand.
Ill fix the bed in the morning, I said, before we open. I dont think I can replant right now with my fist all swollen.
Doug waved me away with his hand, Go away, Phil. Go. Im busy with this onion. Theres work to do here.
Doug waved me away with his hand, Go away, Phil. Go. Im busy with this onion. Theres work to do here.
I hesitated.
Phil, Doug barked. Go away. Lets get tidy. And I dont just mean weeding and replanting. OK?
I nodded. I retreated.
Wheres Ray?
Saleem was in the kitchen alone. She had Cog on her lap and she was stroking him. Cogs purr almost lifted the tablecloth.
Hes gone, she said, to the pub. You didnt find Nancy, I gather?
No.
Fuck. Your hands all swollen. What did you do?
I crushed it in the mower.
Youve been out mowing?
I was putting it away.
Is it broken?
No, the mowers fine.
She knocked Cog off her lap. Lets see it.
I backed off a fraction. Its in the barn. I locked it up for the night.
She gazed at me, unsmiling. Do you seriously think Im going to hurt you, Phil?
Hurt me? No.
I inspected my shirt-front. Wus geranium assault had left its mark.
Sit down Phil. I want to talk to you. Saleem pulled out a chair and pointed at it.
Rays expecting me. Maybe Ill go to casualty with this hand.
Sit. Screw Ray. Screw your hand.
I sat down, but on the edge of the chair so shed sense I wasnt staying.
OK, Saleem perched herself against the table. Picture the worst case scenario. .
I studied my hand. It was still smarting. I thought about the pain.
If Doug gets any more erratic and irascible than he already is, then theres Noway we can let him go to the meeting on Friday.
He has to go. No one else can.
You could.
Doug has to go. I cant go.
Why not?
I just cant. Doug needs our support. He needs to be kept on an even keel, thats all.
Ha! Saleem rolled back on her hip, victorious. So even youve noticed that somethings up. Even you, finally, have noticed.
Im only saying. .
Picture the worst case scenario.
Its hardly going to come to that.
If Doug cant go, youll have no choice but to go yourself. Rays a moron. You understand how the park works.
But I dont have anything to do with the business side of things. Thats Dougs department.
Youd just have to acquaint yourself with a selection of the most salient facts, thats all. I could help you. She pointed towards one of the kitchen drawers. Its all in there. The papers, the bills, receipts, accounts. Everything we need.
It wont come to that.
Look, Saleem pushed herself up off the table, Ive got something for you. Its kind of last-minute, but I think it might help. She picked up her stick and disappeared from the kitchen.
Cog came and slithered around my ankles. My knuckles felt like they were growing. Expanding. I looked around and my eyes settled on a tea-cloth over by the sink. I stood up, grabbed hold of it, dampened it in some cold water and tried to apply it to my hand. Saleem returned.