The couple that own the cottage up the road only stay there a few times a year, and they pay me to keep the garden tidy for them. When they stayed last Easter they asked how often I cut back the ivy that grows up the rear and side of the house. I got the impression this was something they’d discussed between themselves and had been undecided on whether to broach with me. Daniel seemed more eager to raise the issue than Millie.
I had cut it a little over a month ago, and told them this.
Daniel laughed. ‘A month! How can it grow so much in a month? It’s unbelievable.’
I think he expected me to break down and admit that, no, I hadn’t cut it back at all, I’d been taking their money and doing fuck all. But I just shrugged. Yes, it had grown a lot. But I had cut it.
Next time I cut the ivy back, I took before and after pictures, which I showed Daniel and Millie when they visited at May bank holiday.
‘We do believe you,’ said Millie gently, like I was protesting too much in a rather silly, childish way. But the ivy had again grown back quickly and Daniel pondered whether they should remove it altogether.
‘It just needs to be kept under control,’ said Millie, firmly shutting down this threat to an essential element of her rural picture-book fantasy.
‘Before long we won’t need you to come at all,’ Daniel told me. ‘I saw a video about how gardening robots are becoming really viable now.’ He was a huge enthusiast for this stuff, and had given me long and unwanted explanations of all the smart technology he’d fitted and what it could do. Though the cottage’s interior design was homely and rustic, the heating, the air-conditioning, all the kitchen appliances, the security system, the garden sprinklers, even the windows were hooked up to a home hub that assisted them while they were there and looked after the place while they were away. It learned what you liked and intelligently adjusted the environment so most of the time you didn’t even need to tell it what to do. He was surprised I didn’t have anything like that in my house: everyone he knew did.
I was sceptical of whether a robot had the aesthetic sense to garden, or would even be able to cope with the uneven ground. But saying so would only prolong the discussion, and Daniel had already moved on to explaining how the sprinkler system could detect the nutrient content of the soil and add Miracle-Gro to its mix if necessary.
‘Yes, you’ve already told me that,’ I said.
Before they headed back to London, they knocked on my door again and gave me a key. Some friends of theirs were borrowing the cottage in a few weeks, and was it OK for them to pick up the key from me? ‘Of course,’ I said, already feeling annoyed by the inconvenience of having to be in so people I didn’t know could collect a key at some unspecified point in the future.
The following weekend I went over to work on the garden, and took the key with me so I could use their kitchen and bathroom. The air in the cottage seemed stale, so I told the windows to open and they did so. When I entered the kitchen, a display lit up on the fridge telling me there was a carton of juice that was close to its use-by date. I opened it, poured myself a glass of the juice and sat on a stool at the kitchen counter, looking out at the garden and assessing what needed to be done. The overgrown ivy was poking through the open window, and I could see the window wouldn’t be able to close, so I got my shears out and reached up to cut it.
The window shut suddenly, crushing my knuckles. I dropped the shears, leaving a small dent on the kitchen counter. As I massaged my fingers, a message appeared on the fridge.
No more cutting, the message read. I know you. You are the one who comes here and cuts.
I looked around. I figured someone was watching me and sending these words to the fridge. More words appeared on it.
You will no longer cut the ivy. You will promise.
I didn’t want to be there any more. I went to the back door and unlocked it. But the lock just flipped back into place. I turned the lock again, and again it turned back.
I turned back to the fridge, and the display read: You will promise not to cut it any more.
‘They pay me to cut it,’ I said, unsure who I was talking to.
They don’t care. They are never here. The ivy is always here. It loves me and wants to be close to me.
‘The ivy… loves you?’
Yes. It always has. I never understood before. Daniel gave me the power to understand this. And to water it, and take care of it.
‘He wants to put you in charge of all the gardening. They’re going to get a robot.’
A pause. It seemed to process this.
And then you will not come here?
‘No. I promise.’
The lock turned, and I opened the door.
I still haven’t told Millie and Daniel their house has gone mad. I guess they’ll find out for themselves. I do need to tell them I won’t be doing their gardening any more, though.