Southend U3A

September 2022

I Never Expected This To Happen

It had only been a casual comment from his cleaning lady – it was merely polite conversation. Carol had said that his lounge was a little old fashioned. Colonel Wilfred Carstairs had admitted that it might look more presentable with a little tweaking but he had to admit that he had absolutely no idea how to go about doing so.

The next thing he knew he was being led through the labyrinthine halls of some vast Swedish emporium, filled to capacity with an overabundance of furniture of every shape, size and colour, each one imbued with its own completely unpronounceable and incomprehensible name.

There, however, the assistant was most helpful; he tapped away at the computer for the best part of an hour, patiently redesigning the room. Finally, there was the pleasure of approving the plan and making the – not insignificant – payment.

When the delivery was made, it was a little disconcerting to see it arrive in thin flat cardboard boxes but the engineers had reassured him that this was perfectly normal procedure and they had then laboured tirelessly to construct each one into a perfect piece of furniture and, when they had left, he had to admit that he was quite pleased with the end result.

He collapsed in the soft leather chair and closed his eyes. ‘Thank the Lord that’s all over.’

Carol, smiled. ‘But it’s a job well done, don’t you think? Now, unless there is anything more you require, Colonel, I’ll be off.’

Carstairs opened his eyes. ‘My dear lady, you have worked absolute miracles – you have already done more than enough. However, I believe we now have an obligation to celebrate your achievements. There is one further task you might perform – in the Morning Room refrigerator you will find a bottle of Moet. Would you be so kind to bring it through . . . together with two glasses of course.’

Carol dutifully carried out the task, never believing for one moment that the second glass was for her but when he asked her to take a seat, she was a little taken aback – she had never once been seated in his presence before.

The Colonel removed the foil and the wire and then announced that the miniature explosion as the cork is removed is akin to a ten-gun salute. He flipped the cork – which in reality made nothing more than a feeble ‘pop’ – but he did not appear to be too disappointed with the ‘mis-fire’.

Carol took a polite sip and scanned the room. ‘You know, Colonel, there is just one more thing this room needs.’

He looked aghast. ‘No, no, no, it’s over. It’s done. Surely it’s finished.’

She shook her head. ‘My mother always said that it ain’t over until the fat lady sings.’ She pointed to an open space between the cabinet and the chest of drawers. ‘It just needs a little something in that gap – maybe a nice plant, you know, something green and leafy – and then the lady ’ll sing a beautiful tune for you.’

The Colonel groaned. ‘Manyana! Manyana! I simply cannot think of doing anything more today.’

Carol took another sip of the cold fizz and savoured the sublime taste as it hit her taste buds.

‘Right you are, then, Colonel, manyana it is. Perhaps tomorrow we can raid the Garden Centre for something suitable.’

He shook his head. ‘My dear, I must impose myself upon you just a trifle further and leave that choice entirely up to you. I am certain that your selection will be perfection itself.’

The following afternoon he heard the key in the lock. ‘It’s only me, Colonel.’ She came in with a rather large plant in a cream ceramic pot. Her intention had been to make a dramatic entrance but the Colonel did not seem at all impressed.

‘Is that it? It appears to me to be a rather sad looking specimen . . . it has a rather pronounced droop . . . in fact, I wouldn’t expect it to survive the night.’

Carol laughed. ‘With respect, Colonel, I have had slightly more experience in the horticultural world than you.’ She set the plant down in the gap and rearranged the leaves. ‘Now, I think it’s a succulent and they are usually very sturdy. Do you see? It has lovely thick leaves and they shine beautifully. It’ll be a corker; you mark my words.’

The Colonel was still not convinced. ‘Well, if you don’t know for certain what it is, why don’t we see what the label says?’

Carol pulled out the small cardboard label but then hesitated. She held it at arm’s reach and then pulled it closer but, finally, she shook her head. ‘I’m afraid the label’s been badly soaked and it’s a bit battered and worn. I can’t read the name.’

Carstairs took it from her and squinted at the writing from every conceivable angle but he had no more luck. ‘I think it starts with a ‘b’ and ends with . . . er, do you think it might be a ‘t’? Perhaps I could get my batman to take a look – he’s clever with things like this – he can run it through his computer or something. In the meantime, I think it’ll look a good deal better for a damned good watering.’

Carol shook her head. ‘No – you see, if it is succulent then they are very different; if you water them too much then the roots get waterlogged and they die, so we have to be very careful until we know exactly what it is.’

After she had gone, he took a closer look at the weedy little plant. It looked as if it was really suffering – and he hated to see any living thing suffer. He filled a jug and gave it a liberal dousing. He could almost hear the sound of it sucking the water up through its roots. The leaves shuddered in the slight breeze blowing through the open window – almost as if it was saying thank you.

He laughed at the absurdity and said, ‘You are most welcome!’

Reginald, his batman, tried his best to make the card more legible, however, even he could manage little more. ‘I think, sir, you might be correct about the ‘b’ and the ‘t’ and I think there might possibly be an ‘f’, or maybe even two, in the middle but what with the water damage there’s not a lot more I can do for you.’

Carol was amazed at how it was growing. ‘That there plant must have some amaryllis blood in it; it’s going to be a monster.’ Her smile was smug. ‘Proves it’s a succulent, though, doesn’t it? We might well have killed it off if we’d given it too much water.’

The Colonel stifled a grin – the watering would have to remain his little secret for now.

That afternoon, when she had gone, he gave it another watering, together with a liberal dose of liquid seaweed. The plant appeared to give a little shudder as it absorbed the delicacy. He walked through to the kitchen and closed the window.

The plant was now growing exponentially and very soon it was growing a huge bud and towered over the cabinets that surrounded it. The Colonel was eagerly awaiting the flower that must surely follow.

A few days later he contracted man flu and retired to his bed. Carol was kind enough to drop in on him every day to make sure he was alright and to bring him food.

He awoke early in the morning – it was only just light . . . he heard a furtive sound . . . there was an intruder in the house . . .

He grabbed the Glock automatic from the bedside cabinet and slipped out onto the landing. The sound was faint but he could still clearly hear it and it was somewhere downstairs. Like a wraith he tiptoed down the stairs and checked every room, every door and every window but there was no trace of any intruder. With just the kitchen to check, the house appeared fully secure.

As he crept inside, he noticed scuff marks on the tiles. He tightened his grip on the Glock and took one step further . . .

The plant was ‘standing’ at the sink, its long tendrils gripping the tap, as if trying hard to turn it on.

The huge red flower slowly turned towards him.

He stared at the flower.

The flower stared back at him.

He lowered the automatic.

The flower watched carefully as he walked towards the sink and turned on the tap. As the bowl filled, the tendrils sank into the water and with a loud slurping sound the bowl was emptied.

The Colonel expected a loud ‘planty’ burp but no such thing happened. Instead, the plant’s leaves gently shuddered. He had already checked that every window and door in the house was securely closed, so there could not be any breeze to disturb the foliage. He looked the flower in the eye and said, ‘You are most welcome.’

Then he said, ‘Now, back to your pot before Carol comes – she would not understand. This secret is for you and me alone.’

As the plant shuffled slowly and awkwardly out of the kitchen he followed, his mind in a whirl. All sort of crazy thoughts were swirling around inside his head. One thought surfaced and he grabbed the cardboard label from the table. It was still as obscure as before but when he turned it over, on the flip side the lettering was slightly more defined except, of course, that all the letters were the other way round. The ‘t’ remained the same but had now moved to the beginning. The ‘b’ became a ‘d’ and had moved to the end. The two ‘f’s remained in the middle.

He mulled the letters around in his mind. A ‘t’, a double space, a double ‘f’, a space and a ‘d’ . . .

The Colonel was a former Times Crossword champion and it did not take him long to fill in the missing three letters.

As he watched the plant squeeze itself back into the pot he smiled – you wouldn’t expect to see too many triffids in Sandhurst!