This week I played my part in the torture and
subsequent demise of our fifteen year old cherry tree....
I instigated this murder, encouraging my husband to hack
at its thick trunk while I wrapped cord around a wart-ridden sprouting, below
the neck.
From the corner of my twitchy eye I saw our neighbours
peering through their nets or cowering behind fences. All were too afraid to
mock. Very probably they were in awe of our strength and sheer determination.
We were unfazed by the heat, wiping sweat from our brows, yanking and sawing at
the cursed tree, refusing to give up. It dug in its roots, putting up a good
fight, but we had weapons that we were not afraid to use. I stood back as my accomplice
sliced through the torso with a circular saw. Then, together we took hold of
the noose and gave the good-for-nothing eyesore one final heave. It landed on
the lawn with a thump, shaking the ground, sending a colony of ants into frenzy.
My husband stood proudly over our victim believing his
task was done, but I had another job lined up. ‘Finish it off once and for all,”
I egged him on. “Pour the root killer into its stump and make sure it chokes on
the lot.”
All year, the tree’s off-springs have been shooting through
our front lawn, but they are all wilting now, keeling over as the poison sets
in. While I wait for the roots to die, I calmly take hold of Sarah Hall’s, ‘Carhullan
Army’....now this is disturbing stuff....
....Wow! That’s what I call a good ending....
I wonder what my agent thinks of my denouement?
She’s had Ghost Towns for three and a half weeks
now. It feels like an eternity......
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