Sara Alexi - The Illegal Gardener

His interest is quickened to learn a new English phrase. “What is this ‘back-to-back houses’?”

“Long streets of stone houses where each one joins the next, a terrace of houses, and each house has another house built on the back facing the opposite way. It was a cheap way of building lots of houses for the workers of the mills, when they were working.”

“Stone houses, very expensive.”

“No, as cheap as it comes. It is full of Pakistanis. In some areas of Bradford, there are more Pakistani children than British children in the schools.”

“Rich Pakistanis!”

“Ha, yes! I guess some of them are now.” Juliet’s childhood view of the Pakistanis shifts. Then they were poor migrants, today many are affluent Britons of many generations. “But there are still some that are poor.”

“But not in England.” He beams as he waves a parting gesture, more a flourish of finality as he has lost Juliet. She has wandered on, her mind balancing and adjusting her preconceived thoughts around Pakistanis in England forty some years ago, when she was growing up, with the people of Asian origin who live there now. Aaman comes to mind. His situation, compared to the Pakistanis of Bradford, is absolutely desperate. Separated by such a distance from his wife and family with no notion of when or how he will return. No passport, no papers, no money, no permanent job. Just the clothes he stands in. The same clothes every day. Desperate. Her anger with him for not showing up dissolves. She hopes he is safe wherever he is.

With bags and bags of fresh fruit and vegetables, Juliet drives home. The cat is waiting and grows delirious as it smells fresh fish from the market.

Juliet chooses an old terracotta pot to be the cat’s bowl. She empties some of the little fish into the dish and puts it on the floor next to the fridge. The cat lifts his head to her to be stroked before he hungrily eats.

With a glass of water after the heat of the day at the market, Juliet revives. It had been good to talk to Terrance. She decides to call Thomas.

“Mum? Hey, good to hear from you. Have you spoken to Terrance? He has got himself in a financial pickle again.”

“Yes, I spoke to him; I am just transferring something to him now.” Juliet picks up her laptop.

“Mug.”

“I would do the same for you, in fact I remember a time when…”

“So how is it out there Mum? Are you happy?”

“Yes, it’s great, I have just been to the market. You must come, with Cheri, you would love it.”

“We’re thinking about it, it’s just that getting time off together is proving tricky. Have you made any friends?”

“No, well yes, I think so. I have had a man here working for me from Pakistan. At first I think I was resenting him being here a bit but now I like it. He works really hard.”

“You’ve made friends with a builder?”

“He’s not really a builder more sort of a house boy…”

Juliet pulls the phone away from her ear as Thomas bawls with laughter.

“House boy! You have made a friend and it is with your house boy. Mum, tell me you are kidding. Please!”

“Thomas. Stop it. Maybe house boy is the wrong term. He does all jobs that need doing around the house, from washing pots inside to moving rubble outside. He is very sweet, a little unsure of himself and sometimes a bit full of himself.”

“And you have made friends with him because?” Thomas is hooting between words.

“There is no because, he is just working for me at the moment and we are getting to know each other.”

Thomas finally manages to control himself and stops laughing.

“Mum, be careful.” Juliet can see him wiping his laughter tears from his eyes. “There are plenty of people in the world that will take advantage of anyone who appears alone, lonely even. Why don’t you come back here for a visit? You can stay with us. We have just rented a bigger flat so there’s room if you don’t mind the settee for a bed.”

“You are sweet sometimes, when you’re not being mean. When did you decide on a new flat?”

“Cheri got promoted so we are using the difference in pay to get somewhere bigger. It’s not much bigger, but as least we have a sitting room now.”

“Well done, Thomas, let me know if you need any help.”

“Not me, Mum. I’ll leave that up to Terrance. But seriously, if you want to come back for a holiday, just say so. But I’m afraid we don’t have a house boy to run after you.”

Thomas disappears into his own laughter again. Juliet hears him slapping his thigh and can picture him, knees curling to his chest rocking backwards the way he always did as a boy when he could no longer control himself. She smiles at the image, but with a touch of sadness from loss.

The chortles subside.

“Mum, actually, I have to go, I have to pick Cheri up. Can we talk later?”

“Sure. You go and talk her into a visit here and let me know if you need anything.”

After a reluctant goodbye, Juliet finishes the money transfer to Terrance and leans back on the sofa. The cat is at the door, and another cat is sniffing him nose to nose. They head bump and the new cat falls to the floor, rolling onto its back, wafting its paws in an invitation to play. The original cat licks its paws and ignores its new friend.

Wondering if her attitude to Aaman is reasonable, Juliet cuts herself some bread. She intends to eat the rest of the yogurt, the rice-stuffed vine leaves, and the olives she bought at the market. Aaman is a paid employee but he is also a person. She expects him to be subservient, or at least say thank you when she offers him things. But is that because she grew up in Bradford all those years ago which led her to accept that as normal? Maybe what she offers now is as it should be, no thanks necessary. Bloody Mick . Mick treated her with such disrespect for so long and took everything she did totally for granted that she no longer knows the reasonable way to act or what to expect.

Thomas didn’t help. But then, what does Thomas know?

The phone rings.

“Hi Juliet. How’s it going? Did you get rid of the cat?”

“Michelle, hi! Wow, loads of phone calls today. No, the cat has now taken up permanent residence. I gave it fish today.”

“Does the cat have a name now?”

“No, I don’t want to get that friendly. If I name it, I claim it, and I don’t want to claim anyone, or for that matter, be claimed by anyone.”

“Uh hum, that sounds mysterious. What’s up?”

“How have we managed to stay friends all these years? I mean, we hardly ever see each other, I am so lax at calling you so, seriously, I don’t mean to be rude, but why do you still call me?”

“Because you don’t fool me with your hard man act, ‘Jules’. You keep forgetting how long we’ve known each other. You act all tough. But why would someone who is tough and sure of themselves let someone like Mick under their skin? He was a cry for help if anything ever was. But I understand. I knew your mum when we were kids, and if anyone deserves someone to stand up for them, it’s you.”

There is a loud silence. Juliet had clearly been asking a rhetorical question.

“Have you hung up again, Juliet?”

“No.” Juliet strokes her scarred arm, her thin skin ripples at her touch.

“Well, don’t. Come on, tell me how things are shaping up.”

There is a long, deliberating pause.

“The garden is looking better. There are tiny buds that will ripen into bursting red fruit on the pomegranate tree.”

“Yes, you said you had some men digging away. Have they moved your three mattresses yet or will you be sleeping under the stars?”

“I have found one man to help. He cleared the garden. Really quickly actually. He was so determined, strong. He’s one of those people who doesn’t let anything stand in his way and just gets on with the job.”