Southend U3A

The Garden Shed - Marie Day

I dont know if you remember me; Patricia Moore, amateur astronomer, part time columnist for a local newspaper and occupant of a small cottage in the country. I live with my furry friend, Canis Minor. Next door is a cottage often rented out to holiday makers and those in need of a resting place when away from home. Sometimes far from home.

When last I told my story I had to stop at a worrying moment. My friends, the Moon family, had returned next door while their vehicle Andromeda was repaired. Meanwhile I’d been pestered by a reporter called Johnno Lister to give an interview. I’d managed to keep him away but one night in October he’d entered my garden unseen even with a full moon. He crept up behind me whilst I was talking to my friend Sirius. That’s where I’ll take up the story.

As I turned in response to Sirius look of horror my phone rang. Bryony was too late to warn me! Camera raised and treading all over my fuchsia bush as usual there he stood. I had to restrain Canis Minor who had on a previous occasion taken an instant dislike to Mr. Lister, surpassing his hatred of baths and walks in the rain.

‘What the hell are you doing in my garden?’ I said holding tightly to Canis collar.

Johnno Lister as usual hadn’t a clue he’d overstepped the mark and stepped all over my fuchsia bush.

My teeth were so gritted it’s a wonder they didn’t shatter.

‘How did you get in? I didn’t hear you knock.’

With that nauseatingly overconfident smile he answered, ‘Oh Pat, your side gate was open. I heard voices and thought I’d pop in and have a chat.’

‘Well, you can pop out again. I was just about to go to bed.’

Johnno Lister must have thicker skin than my granny’s rice pudding. He inanely gurned at me and asked who I’d been talking to.

‘The man in the moon.’ I snarled as I edged him away from the fence hampered by a growling bundle of brown fur. I all but shoved him down the path after unlocking my gate. He must have climbed over. Before he drove off, he promised to be back in the morning. I was just relieved he’d gone but I didn’t know how much he had seen before Sirius disappeared.

I found out next morning. The phone rang. Caller ID read unknown. No message left. I rushed out through the patio doors and over to the fence. Noises came from the garden shed. Bang, crash, thud! There were also a few choice words in a language I didn’t understand. How to attract the attention of my friend while he was in mechanic mode? I noticed Canis’ gurgleburp ball on the grass. I picked it up and threw it at the shed door. It landed with a splat and a huge gurgleburp. The noises inside stopped and a face peeped out the door. I waved frantically and Sirius crept over to the fence. Though no one was about we spoke in whispers. Sirius had not told Ariadne and the childers what he’d seen last night. He spent the night trying to get Andromeda to start properly. If she did start, she didn’t go for more than a few minutes.

‘What can we do? I need to get her going before ...’ his voice trailed off.

I knew exactly what would happen. Johnno Lister wanted to make a name for himself no matter what. The name I had for him was unprintable.

I asked Sirius what exactly ailed Andromeda. He said he’d narrowed it down to the small springy thing that is attached to the speedy up whatsit had stretched so the ship couldn’t be kept on an even thingummy. It would slow down and stick in position and be too unreliable to travel far. We had to have a plan to get rid of Johnno Lister for good. And we needed that springy thing fast! Sirius scuttled away to have refreshers with the family and I took Canis Minor for a walk.

‘What are we going to do about him Canis?’ Canis looked at me and lifted one side of his mouth to show sharp teeth but what we needed was something that wouldn’t leave me in court and him in the dog pound. When we got back, I phoned my friend Bryony Cox. She didn’t know the whole story but she wanted rid of the overbearing journalist too. She suggested that we attack and forget about defence. We decided on a plan.

I don’t know if Mr. Lister was surprised to hear from me voluntarily or whether he overestimated his ability to charm but he turned up on the dot. I had told him that I might have found the story he was looking for. I confined Canis Minor to the dining room with a selection of cartoons again. Better safe than sorry. Paw Patrol, Huckleberry Hound, Scooby Doo, and Snoopy. I left out 101 Dalmatians as Cruella De Ville makes him hide under the cushions. As darkness fell, I led the over excited man out to the garden warning him to be quiet and make no sudden movements. From next doors garden came eerie sounds. Approaching the fence the sounds grew louder and came from the garden shed. Bright lights turned off and on inside. This was where we took the chance that Johnno Lister was a credible witness or did people switch off when he started talking. He was all for dashing straight through my fence but I guided him past my poor, long suffering fuchsia bush to a hole where I’d removed two slats earlier.

Before I could stop him, Lister squeezed through and ran towards the shed. I followed trying to act as if I didn’t know what was going on. Suddenly the door flew open and standing in the light was a large, shimmering shape. Behind sparks shone and bounced round the tiny, wooden building. Johnno Lister stopped in his tracks but he took several photos in quick succession. Luckily, he was rooted to the spot. The shape in the doorway stepped back. The door closed and the noises and lights stopped. Johnno Lister was beside himself. He gabbled that he was the famous journalist who gave the world photographs of the first aliens, he was going to leave this lousy, little village behind, the talk of Fleet Street. Minutes later he drove off rather unsteadily in his car. I rushed inside and collected Canis Minor. We went into the garden and found the Moons and Canis Major by the fence. They were packed and ready to go. Ariadne said she had folded the tarpaulin alien costume and put it with the flashing disco machine to the back of the shed. They had to be on their way so we had once again to say our goodbyes. You see we had finally found the springy thing that goes under the speedy up whatsit with the help of Mike the mechanic down the road. It cost £1.79 from the local suppliers and took 20 minutes to attach. It seems it keeps the accelerator in place and an even speed. Who ever knew?

I hugged each Moon and this time they promised they would return. The Moons and Canis Major entered the garden shed. They climbed into the rejuvenated Andromeda and waved from the windows. And, with one last woofruff from Canis Major, lifted off and departed incredibly through a door not big enough to accommodate a lawn mower. The sky, just for a moment, glowed and then they were gone. Canis Minor (tail definitely drooping) and I (if I had a tail, it would droop too) returned to the cottage. At least they were safe.

Next morning there was banging on my front door. On my doorstep was Johnno Lister AND a TV van, a presenter with one of those huge microphones and at the back the editor of the local paper. Also, my friend Bryony.

‘I wouldn’t miss this for the world,’ she whispered as she stood next to me.

My amateur dramatic experience came in handy. I was Puss in Boots in the village pantomime much to Canis Minors disgust. I looked thoroughly shocked and enquired what they wanted at this ungodly hour. It was 9am but it sounded good. Lister barged past me.

‘This way.’ he yelled, ‘The monster death ship is out here.’

They followed him into the garden. He then trampled through the fence and rushed over to the garden shed.

‘Someone please tell me why you are destroying my property.’ I put on my most horrified voice.

The TV presenter gasped as she pushed past. ‘We want to see the alien and his spaceship.’

The garden shed stood quiet and innocent. Lister triumphantly pulled open the door with a crash AND out walked a little, brown, furry terrier with a ball in his mouth. His tail was wagging too but then he saw Johnno Lister and once again for the sake of our liberty I grabbed his collar. Our visitors stared at Johnno Lister. Where was the great scoop, where was the alien, where was the death ship? One man entered the shed and came out with a pair of gardening gloves and a broken piece of springy metal. The people roaming around my garden dispersed and disappeared once they realised, they were on a wild alien chase. The editor of the Weekly Blather was tearing Johnno Lister off strip as they left. As he sidled off without another word, he did give me a very strange, sideways look which was anything but friendly. I called after them that the bill for the fence and the damage to my bushes would be with them soon.

I heard later on the village grapevine that Johnno Lister had parted company with the local newspaper. He let everyone know that he was off to bigger and better things. He had chosen a different path to literary glory and departed the village in a cloud of dust. One evening Canis and I sat in the garden looking up at the sky. Suddenly a bright light crossed at speed. My logical brain told me it was the space station. Another part of my brain saw four round, smiley faces and one big, furry featured, doglike creature sailing on to the next meteor shower that needed documenting. As long, that is, that the springy thing kept attached to the speeding up whatsit. I looked at Canis Minor. ‘Woofruff’, he barked back.