The Fowler and His Net – Chapter 7

Gary slept long and deep and dreamt of Ariel, the self monikered hippy wife of a record producer. She had tried to interest him in stones and scented candles and had wanted to smoke her home made cigarettes before making love to the attractive ex-soldier and, as she saw it, victim of the state. His fags and booze were the only herbal remedies he was interested in, however, and Ariel was made prey to his own type of exploitation. At the time, he hated the condescension of her need to do good, he felt that she was making herself grand by deeming others necessary for her help.

He had been meditating about the possibility of her actual sincerity in recent weeks. At the time he had been angry when he realized that there was nothing of value in her bedroom, strange he thought, in that massive house.

He scraped his sleep away and found out he wasn’t alone. Ah, yes. He had followed a ridiculous girl back to her bedroom; she was young. He jolted his head upright in bed.

Lady Anne was still with him, one huge breasts was covered by their blanket, the other lay on top, her smugly contented face sighed into his chest hair. ‘Morning Gary darling.’ She whispered softly, as he lay back down.

‘Err…mornin’.’ He shuffled and Lady Anne bedded her face deeper.

‘You were snoring, my love. It sounded…like music.’ Gary was pretty certain it did not.

He tried to make sense of the previous evening. Of course, there was that stupid tuition, and then. Did he have sex with this girl alone, without Samantha shouting at him.

Annie took his hand and placed it on her round belly. ‘Do you feel it darling?’

‘What the hell!’ he thought, and then he remembered. He had, encouraged by both Samantha and her daughter, inseminated this girl. He had done it a few times, in different places. He did it when his balls ached and he thought they would produce nothing, but with the magic of Annie’s softness , they had always managed it.

And now it seemed, he possessed a spaniel. ‘I feel so alive this morning!’ soothed a smitten Annie. ‘How do you feel my love?’

Was this another of Samantha’s games? This girl had been abusive and plainly demeaning to him just the day before.

‘Aye, I feel grand.’ He replied, not wanting to encourage too romantic an attachment.

‘I am so “at ease” with you.’ she replied lyrically.

He began to think practically and looked at his watch. It was seven in the morning and he had to consider his day. He had workmates to pick up in an hour.

‘Lets make love again darling,’ Annie smooshed, ‘give me more of that lovely, creamy manfullness.’

Gary doubted this was in his ability, but he was also concerned. Girls of Annie’s age were fertile as turtles; maybe he had succeeded in doing his manly duty.

‘I’m going to have to be off lass, got a gang of lads waitin’, like.’

‘No, no! You can’t go!’ she replied desperately.

‘Don’t worry lass, I’ll see yer tonight, eh?’

‘But, but…’ she sobbed frantically.

He rose and dressed, hampered by a ludicrously attracted Annie.

‘Will there be some brekky doesn’t stairs?’ he asked.

Annie wiped away her tears. ‘Let me make it for you, honey?’

‘’Err, aye. That’d be grand.’

‘Mmm, I have to feed my man’. She rubbed his crotch.

————–

Annie burnt everything. Bacon, sausage and eggs. It was the worst breakfast he had ever had. ‘Would you like more scrambled eggs my love?’ she asked.

Samantha walked blurry eyed into the kitchen. ‘Is that burning?’ She asked, ‘Is that burning bacon. Oh, Annie you silly kitty!’

‘Morning auntie Samantha, Gary needed breakfast before he starts work, he needs to be big and strong if he is going to look after both of us.’ she placed her hand on her stomach.

‘Annie, not again. This is the third time this year.’

‘No, auntie Samantha, this is for real. Gary and I are in love and we are going to marry, tell her Gary!’

Gary looked at the two in total confusion. Was this some kind of weird plot?

‘Right, that’s it, I’m phoning your mother, she will know precisely what to do Annie, you need to learn to curb your emotions.’

‘But, I don’t want to go to Switzerland again, I want to stay here and look after Gary’s baby.’

Gary was in a madhouse. He decided to leave. ‘Sam…I mean Mrs. Barton, I’ve got to pick the lads up now, sorry.’

‘No, no, you can’t go!’ Screamed Annie.

‘It’s fine Mr. Fowler. Are we still expecting you later?’ she asked.

‘Aye,’ a desperate, sobbing Annie held on to his middle tightly, ’The lads should be here about two. It should all get done today.’

‘Oh, that is good news,’ replied a calm Samantha. Calm, despite the chaos going on around. ‘The Countess’s driver will come over for Annie this morning, we will pick up the pieces, won’t we sweety-pie?’

‘No, no!’ Annie replied, ‘I want Gary and I want his beautiful, yokel babies!’

————–

Gary’s team was all excitement about the afternoon job during their early lunch. They had growing suspicions about the goings on at the Grange and were eager to partake in the semi-mythical activities.

‘What have I said about this bloody job that gets you all goin’?’ Gary asked.

Wayne made most sense in the group. ‘It’s all’t rumours Gazza. I heard from Dewey that she’s got a right pair of knockers and he says all ot’ nobs get their turn; so he says.’ Dewey was Bob Dewhurst, a butcher in town.

‘So that means you get yours eh?’ Gary replied.

‘You lookin’ forward to your turn, Jakey lad?’ Paul the foreman asked the young apprentice.

‘Do you reckon gaffer? he replied eagerly.

‘Aye, you’ got as good a chance as the rest of us.’ He replied with a wink.

‘I heard she’s got a little lass in all,’ Wayne suggested, ‘just right for you, young fella me lad.’

‘that’ll make t’lasses in’t village jealous eh kid?’ Paul added.

‘Aw, give over gaffer, you know I’m courting’ An embarrassed Jake replied.

All of this talk was in the arena of fantasy and all understood. If there was any reasonable prospect of actually satisfying the demand that the team of men had, the conversation would have been very, very different.

———

At last, two o’clock came and Gary’s van, full of enthusiastic workmen arrived at the Grange to complete the tiling job around the pool.

Their excitement was dashed by the appearance of Mrs. Barton as they pulled into the gardener’s drive at the rear of the house. She was dressed as Gary had never seen her dressed before, in tweed skirt and Barbour jacket, with her hair in a bun and with wing glasses. It was frumpiness, defined.

’Oh, you are here good, good. I’m anxious that you all start as soon as you can. Mr. Fowler has done his best, but I do need this work finished for tomorrow. Who is in charge here?’

‘Aye, that’ll be me.’ Paul replied.

‘Yes, Mr?’

‘Atkinson.’

‘Mr. Atkinson, please, tell your men that no one except Mr. Fowler is to come near the house, understand.’

‘Aye, I think they are all listenin’.’ He replied.

Samantha glowered at his perceived cheek and Paul bashfully looked downward.

‘See that they do. There have been a spate of robberies in the area and I do not wish my house to be among them.’

‘Aye, Mrs. Barton.’ Paul replied.

‘So, if you need refreshments, please send Mr Fowler to the back door.’

‘Aye Mrs. Barton.’ He repeated.

The team was very disappointed by this development. ‘Bloody hell,’ said Wayne, ‘why ‘ave yer been leadin’ us oop ‘garden path Gazza.’

Gary was astonished. ‘Aye lads, I’ve been trying to tell yet not to get too excited.’

‘Well, I reckon that means we’re not gonna get our go.’ squeaked Jake.

‘Aye, lad,’ laughed Paul. ‘we have got a job on though.’ He walked over to the pool followed by the team, removed the covers, and looked at the work done by Gary. Without using his level or square, he could see that it was excellent, the run off was perfectly graded, the grout was mixed well and had set finely, the tiles were perfectly cut, bevelled and aligned. The firm would be in good hands with this relative newcomer. ‘What a bloody cowboy job!’ he exclaimed. ‘Well, we ain’t got time to fix it. Let’s get this show on’t go eh?.’

This was the way of things. Praise did have a place in this society, but not in the automatic recognition of work well done.

‘Jake, get cleanin’ them tiles and start mixin. Wayno, here’s yet mark, Gazza, here’s yours. Right come on lads. Chop, chop!’. Freed from the duty of carrying, preparing and mixing, Gary, Paul and Wayne could work much more quickly and they achieved good progress. By six o’clock, it was complete and Gary was knocking in the back door of the Grange. The majority of the team watched Gary as Jake covered the new work. The back door was answered by Samantha in the nude.

‘Mr. Fowler, you have finished’. I must say that is such a relief.’

Gary was immediately flustered, Aye, he replied trying to shield his eyes, I’ll ‘ave to come round tomorrow to make sure it’s all set and level, but, aye, err… done.’

She moved forward in the doorway so that one more step would have exposed her nakedness to the entire work team. ‘Yes, please do, and don’t forget to come up to the house, Hmm?’ she stroked the outside of her large round breast. ‘Rachel and I have just one opportunity to learn from you before we…go away.’

‘Aye, Mrs…Samantha..’ Gary was firmly of the opinion that all education was purely on his side.

——–

The next morning Gary and his team were at lunch at the cafe in town after a hard morning on the deep end tilework. Jake the apprentice showed his progression within the team by initiating a conversation. ‘Eh Gazza, why are you off to Portugal by yer sen?’

‘Who say’s I’m off there by me’sen?’

‘Aye,’ Paul contributed, ‘he’ll be picking up some “senior-ita” on’t beach.’ The spoonerism was intended and raised laughs.

‘Will they be any different, them foreign birds, Gazza?’ asked Wayne.

‘Likely I’ll have to learn “I’ve got a big knob” in “portu geese”. But I’ll be drownin’ in ‘em Wayno.’

‘You’ll be bringing all manner o’ them foreign diseases back Gaz,’ Paul warned. ‘our nip came back with a green bell end, so he said.’

‘Our uncle Ted, right, ‘ said Jake in his young high pitched voice, ‘said that some of the lasses have got tackle.’

‘True,’ confirmed Gary. ‘Some of them Hong Kong’ers were “he me she me’s”, it weren’t till yer were being hauled off em by yer mates that you got to know.‘ he shuddered.

‘I’d never get caught out me, ‘ Wayne said confidently, ‘They’ll have beards and that.’

‘Thing is though, they wear loads ’a make up ‘n dresses with high collars, and most t’lasses ain’t got much in’t way o’ knocker anyway.’

‘Not like Mrs.