Sara Alexi - The Illegal Gardener

“I am sure if I was in your country in the same situation, you would do the same for me.”

“Of course, I would love to be able to repay you one day. I hope you will come to our village.” Aaman stutters over the last few words as he thinks of the basic facilities he has. How little he could offer Juliet, whilst she offers luxury. “We don’t have much, but you would be welcome to all we have.”

Juliet can picture the degree of kindness and consideration she would be offered by Aaman and his family. She blushes at the memory of how she treated Aaman when she first had him work for her. She feels sure that Aaman’s family would not have to wait to get to know her to offer kindness or to be asked for water on a hot day. Juliet turns away with these thoughts then turns back and looks at him directly.

“Thank you. Breakfast?”

They take their toast and marmalade, which Aaman appears to like very much despite its orange origins, out to the back garden. The trees are stretching now their roots are in soil and have lost their plastic boots. The grass is growing but the vines are still propped on the poles that Aaman put them on to protect them when he was clearing the land. The pomegranates are fattening and tinged with red. Juliet takes a big bite of toast and studies the garden.

“I think,” breadcrumbs held in by skill and practice, “we should think about putting up a pergola to support the vines. They have been very patient.” She swallows. “But,” she adds as she feels Aaman energising himself next to her, “I think we should do that in a day or two. Let your body recover from your ordeals. Regular meals and good sleep for a while first.”

“I ate twice yesterday, I am having breakfast now, and I have slept like a prince for ten hours. I am ready to build a pergola!”

Juliet hears the enthusiasm in his voice and recalls that he is probably a bit younger than she is.

“How old are you, Aaman?”

“Thirty-two, I think. Yes, thirty-two.”

Juliet scans his face. He has boyish looks but with an age of experience that shows through. At a glance, he looks younger than his age, but she had presumed he was older, a good few years older. A quick sum tells her he is sixteen years younger than she is. She swallows, her throat feeling curiously tight. She looks younger than forty-eight, but the reality knocks her. She feels ashamed of her feelings. A predator.

They both look up as they see the mother cat carrying one of her babies across the lawn to the woodpile. She glances furtively around as she steals back for another one. She completes her task, all four moved. She stands protective in front of the hollow in which she has placed them. Her babies. She dashes madly across the lawn, glances sideways at Juliet and Aaman as she sidles in through the back door and into the kitchen. They hear the sound of crunching cat biscuits before she dashes back to her vulnerable young.

Aaman laughs.

“More coffee?” Juliet asks. They continue their plans for the pergola. Aaman says he can use some of the old beams that lie against the wall at the back of the house that were there when Juliet bought the place. He says some are rotten, but some are good. Juliet asks if he will need help. He says if he prepares everything, she could give him a hand when it comes to putting the uprights in if she wants. It is agreed. Juliet says she will work from her desk in her bedroom with the window open and he can call her when he needs her.

Aaman insists on washing and putting away the pots and breakfast things. Juliet settles at her desk. The garden lies before her through the window. A bird lands on top of one of the vines, but flies off when Aaman comes out. Juliet turns to her work.

Aaman takes his time to lay out where the uprights should stand. He places markers and then wanders around the garden and along the back of the house to see how his placements will alter or improve the view if that is their final resting place. Once happy, he digs the first holes. After a couple of shovels of dirt have been removed, he takes hold of the pickaxe.

Juliet looks up at the change in noise as the pickaxe drives into the deep compact soil. Aaman, sweating, has taken his shirt off. His skin has a sheen like gold. He is lithe to the point of thin, but his skin has a depth, a firmness that softens the edges of his muscles as they tense and release in his work. His hair falls like a mop, spiking into points. She presumes he has poured water over his head to stay cool.

He lays down the pickaxe and shovels the loose earth out of the hole he has made. Different muscles come into play. He stops and rolls his jeans up to the knee. His calf muscles flex with the movement. Juliet tries to concentrate on her work, but Aaman corrupts her interest. He shovels in another area now, digging deep, muscles taut. He strides over to the sand and cement Juliet has had delivered. He scoops a spade or two of cement and several spades of sand into the wheelbarrow and turns on the hose. It snakes across his feet. He introduces it to the sand and cement and mixes, turning it over with his shovel. He is careful in his movements, avoiding splashes.

“Juliet, you want to come and help?” he shouts as he transfers the mixed cement into a waiting bucket. He turns his back on the window and Juliet breaks her gaze. Scrambling to her feet, she grabs an apron as she passes through the kitchen.

“Where do you want me?” Juliet asks.

Aaman lifts a beam, using its central point for balance. He carries it to the farthest hole and tips the beam’s weight until the end sits in the hole. He walks away, holding the beam, and then when he is a good distance away, pushes the beam towards vertical, walking in as it gains height. Juliet runs to help. As the beam makes it to upright, Aaman’s hands are half over Juliet’s. Aaman looks her in the eye.

“Would you like to hold the beam or get the cement?” he asks.

“I’ll hold. It seems balanced.”

Aaman carries the cement bucket to the pole and pours it in around the base. He gathers some short pieces of timber and wedges them around the pole for support. He claps the dust and cement off his hands.

“One!” He smiles.

Juliet lets go, smiling.

They complete six uprights before Aaman thanks her for her help, and she decides to pop to the nursery for some climbing plants to train up the poles .

She returns with a selection of border plants and only one climbing plant in a wooden box. Aaman jogs up to help her unload it from the car. She seems excited and Aaman presumes it is from having the garden done. Out of curiosity, he asks why she hasn’t bought climbing plants. She is completely distracted.

“Aaman, how good are you with the programming?”

“I am further on than I thought. I am learning php which allows queries to search a database and perform other server side processing tasks. Why?”

She shields her eyes from the sun with her hand.

“The man in the nursery says he needs a website. I said I knew someone who would do it and he said to ask how much!” She is grinning.

“I will not charge him.”

“Why ever not?” Juliet drops her hand.

“It will be a good way for me to learn. It will take time and it may not be perfect.”

“You will charge him and you will use it to learn and he will give you a reference which I will officially translate into English!”

“But I will be slow. I will be learning as I go.”

“He does not know how long it takes to write a website. Besides, he said he would like it ready by next year. Nothing happens with speed in this country.” Juliet laughs.

“I must talk to him to find out what he wants exactly.”

“I took the liberty of asking him, and he has written it out for you, what he wants it to do and so on, I will translate it for you and if there are any questions, I have his phone number. Isn’t it great?”