Friday Flash

Friday Flash Fiction: Shedding

The box sat on the kitchen table, she stared at it as the kettle boiled. It was plain, the address label printed with no return address visible. It was the third one to arrive this week.

She poured the water and swooshed the teabags in the cups, the brown clouds filling the water. I could open it, she thought, I could say that it was split when it arrived.

She poured the milk into the cups, resolved to use one of the knives to slice the tape on the top, when the banging in the shed stopped and her husband stepped out.

She’d missed her chance, so she watched him secure the padlock which always irritated her. Why lock it up for a tea break? There was no other way into the garden, how could anyone steal anything even if they wanted to?

He hurried up the path, arms clasped tight around his padded jacket, the tip of his nose pink. He brought a blast of cold air with him into the kitchen. He washed his hands, black with oil, briskly under the hot tap.

“Lovely, thank you mother,” he smiled as he took his cup. She smirked, the children had left home years ago and he still called her that.

“How’s the project?”

“Fine, fine,” he slurped. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Just pottering.” she watched him over the rim of her cup, his overalls were filthy. What on earth did he do in there all day? “When will it be finished?”

He saw her eyes flick to the shed. “Oh a while yet my love.”

“Are you going to tell me what you’re building?”

He smiled enigmatically and shook his head. “A true creator never reveals the work until it’s ready.”

She pursed her lips, staring at the shed. He spent hours a day in there, and there was no doubt she was banned from it. She’d heard about men and sheds, even laughed with her friends about it, but at least they knew what their husbands did in theirs. She appreciated the fact that he’d taken the early retirement badly and that he needed to keep busy, but why did he have to be so mysterious?

“That arrived earlier,” she said, pointing at the box.

His fingertips wriggled as he saw it. “Fantastic,” he beamed.

“Another part is it?” she asked. “Or a new tool?”

“Yes,” he said and gulped down the rest of the tea. “Back to work mother.”

He pecked her on the cheek, grabbed the box and hurried out again. She watched him fumble with the padlock then dive inside. The clock ticked loudly.

She didn’t notice the shed door hadn’t been shut properly until she was drying the mugs. Usually he was so careful, but the contents of the third box must have been spectacularly exciting for him to have forgotten all else. She threw on a jacket, slipped on her gardening shoes and stepped outside.

The usual banging and clanging were well underway as she sneaked down the garden path, her breath pluming in the winter air. It sounded like he was building something with gusto, and all she wanted was a peek, just a glimpse of this world-revolutionary lawn mower, or micro-light aircraft for pensioners or whatever it was that he was hammering away at. Just one peek, then she’d leave him to it until he was ready to unveil.

She sidled up to the door and peered through the crack. The first thing she saw was his overalls and padded jacket in a heap on the floor. Biting her lip, she then saw the old tape deck that had been her son’s before the CD player came along, and a stack of tapes next to it. One was labelled “drill” and another “sanding wood”. She realised that all of the hammering noises were coming out of its speakers rather than in the main part of the shed.

Now sure that something was amiss, her eyes fell upon a plastic tub of old engine oil placed just by the door, a filthy rag next to it. He’d been coating his hands before coming up to the house, to make it look like he’d been tinkering away, when the whole time he’d been…

Still not any wiser about that, she risked opening the door a touch more, revealing her husband climbing into a blue dress, already wearing what looked like a girdle and petticoat. Gob smacked, she pushed the door further open, seeing a clothes rail full of women’s clothing and a shoe rack. The latest box rested on a tiny dressing table with a wig poking out of it, and there in front of him, a full length mirror, in which her gawping mouth was reflected back.

He turned to face her, one leg in, one leg out. For a second he looked panicked, then that fell away as he finished stepping into the dress and zipped up the side. It gave her time to take it all in and finally close her fly catching mouth.

“Bernard,” she said softly, shaking her head. “What are you doing?”

He stood straight, raised his chin and looked straight at her. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen him look her in the eye like that, the last time he’d looked so at ease. His usual tension and false cheeriness were gone.

“Come up to the house you silly bugger, it’s freezing out here,” she said, as she came over and embraced him. “I’ve got a necklace that’ll set off that dress nicely.”

This story is dedicated to my excellent friend Jenny. I hope you like it x