I'd checked what local tradespeople would charge for an afternoon of work, and to get four (albeit less skilled) people doing the work had to be worth a couple of hundred. In the end we bought an auction lot for a meal out for two at the local pub for £50, and the afternoon of gardening for £165. After we'd paid I was given the mobile number for Paul, the sixth former who'd be organising delivery of the work.That weekend I walked round the garden making a note of what heavy jobs needed doing. We have quite a large outdoor space - nearly half an acre - so there was plenty to be done to get the garden in good shape for the end of summer. I rang the number that had been given and spoke to the guy - who seemed knowledgeable and friendly - and fixed an afternoon when the 'promise' that we'd bought would be delivered. It wasn't planned that way, but the k**s were going to be away for a couple of days with my sister and husband as they were taking them with their own c***dren to a couple of. I looked around the room, five big black guys on three sofas and I heard Luther’s recent words. How he knew we liked to play… how he wondered if we’d be his new playmates… how he liked exploring sexuality. Five big black guys, an interest in exploring. No wonder my mind was screaming and shouting at me. A marriage with a band-aid only recently applied, still in intensive care, and yet here we were.At every single word from the announcer’s microphone, the pressure and pain in my chest had edged up an extra notch. By the time his last words reached my ears, my heart was pumping like one of those pneumatic drills guys use to fix the roads. I was struggling to breathe, trying to settle myself with deep gulps that seemed to make no difference.Luther looked across at me and gave me a wink that only made me feel ten times more nervous and agitated. Fuck! What had we started here? What trap had we stupidly walked into? I looked straight back at him, trying to feel confident but my feelings.
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