Part Thirteen

Oggin the Ogg stood for several minutes deliberating on the events that had just occurred, or more precisely, trying to deliberate on them. The Stone Woman had left him very perplexed and also, with far more questions than he had ready answers for. One thing was really bothering him, he didn’t like becoming part of some sort of ‘conspiracy’ that he didn’t fully understand and moreover, hadn’t even asked to join. He worried that the loss of Greedle’s input of coin would cause more damage and hurt to The Village than The Stone Woman fully appreciated, despite her worryingly uncanny ability to gather unusual information. He also felt like he’d been ‘spied on’, in some odd way that he couldn’t explain and he wasn’t sure he liked that either.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he turned and started back toward the village. It was still early, well early ‘ish, so he thought he’d have a go at repairing The Mammies’ washing line, and it might help take his mind off current events too. He remembered the boiled eggs he’d stuffed into his pockets and as he walked he peeled and ate two of the eggs, casting the shells into the bushes where nature, he reckoned, would re-cycle them in its own good time.

He arrived at The Mammies’ back gate and very slowly peeped around the hedge, the back garden seemed empty and there was none of the usual racket coming from inside the cottage. With great care and as much stealth as he could muster, Oggin slipped through the gate and taking care to close it behind him, entered the garden. On one side he saw a pile of children’s toys heaped on top of a dolls cottage, the fence on that side was covered in chalk scrawl and children’s drawings. On the other side, running along the fence was what remained of a flower bed but constant small scale excavations had reduced it to a collection of low heaps of soil and shallow burrows. Here and there he could make out the remnants of long dead plants and flowers that could no longer compete with the tiny hands of the errant farmers. The primary washing line was filled with a selection of children’s clothes in a bewildering variety of sizes. The second line was missing, the posts were still there and both showed signs of being climbed up, Oggin estimated that the posts were about ten or twelve feet tall and the marks from the little post climbers reached the tops of both. Looking closer he saw that the line was in fact still there, it had been wrapped round and round the second post and a large lump of wood tied on one end, ‘washing line becomes swing’ he mused, ‘the work of small hands and busy minds no doubt’. He paced the distance between the two posts to establish the length of line he’d need and then set off to his garden, to collect his tools and a ladder.

He selected his ‘short’ ladder, fitting it with the “Grip-A-Pole” he’d invented, for just this sort of undertaking. Out of his tool chest, he plumped for his ‘light weight’ woven tool belt, which he buckled on and checked the contents, in a thoroughly businesslike manner. Next, from the wooden ‘garden store’ he picked out a suitable length of line. When finally satisfied he had everything he’d need, he set off back to The Mammies’ garden, with the ladder over his shoulder.

Oggin again crept up and peeped around the hedge to check that the garden was ‘child free’ and was relieved to find it as quiet as when he left, he made his way in and made straight for the far post. Oggin’s ‘invention’ the “Grip-A-Pole”, as the name suggests, was designed to fit snugly around any size of pole by means of a set of jaws that could be adjusted by a turn screw. In truth, this was its first outing to be used on a “proper job” as Oggin would say. It fixed to the top of the ladder by means of two adjustable sleeves with screw clamps to keep it on, Oggin, who always had an eye to the main chance, hoped to sell his design, some day. He raised the ladder up to the pole and very carefully climbed up, to adjust the clamp, only to find that it was rusted solid. Following several curses under his breath and a little head scratching, he pulled out his ‘tapping hammer’ from the tool belt and started tapping at the clamp to loosen it and at the same time, trying to keep his balance on the ladder. With some effort and judicious use of some more ‘quiet’ cursing, he finally got it to work and tightened the clamp onto the wooden pole. With an air of smug satisfaction he climbed down to recover the roll of line and climbed up again to start work. Oggin was busy cutting away the remnants of the old washing line, when he heard a girly giggle from behind him. He froze and a chill shivered down his spine, “Oh No” he thought, “Not the Hasslesnag...not now”. He very slowly turned his head and looked down to see six grubby faces staring up at him, the biggest, about five years old, spoke.

“What ya doin’ mister....?”

“I’m fixing this washing line...”

“What ya doin’ that for mister...?”

“So the Mammie can hang out more washing...”

“Why....?”

“So you lot can have clean clothes to wear....”

“Why....?”

At this point one of the smaller children moved forward and tugged at Oggin’s trouser leg and held up a Fir Cone for inspection.

“Mister....I got a Cur Fone...”

“Er....yes...it’s a very nice one too...” replied an increasingly flustered Oggin.

Quick as a flash two more tiny hands produced similar cones and offered up them for approval too.

“Er...yes...I see you’ve all got one...their all very nice too...”

By this point, Oggin had almost turned completely around on the ladder to speak to the children, when there was an odd scrapping sound and Oggin found himself gripping the ladder but flying through the air, at the same time. In that peculiar way of these things, this seemed to happen in slow motion and Oggin had time to reflect that this was not what he expected, at all. He hit the ground with a bump, the ladder on top of him and still in his grasp. He glanced up to see that the “Grip-A-Pole” was still firmly attached to the pole but, unfortunately, it was no longer attached to the ladder. He glanced across at the children and saw six pairs of very wide eyes staring silently back and then he heard a familiar voice.

“See that Oggin ya bampot....tha’s a belter off a wee trick ya dun there...D’ya think ye could dee it again....for the weans an’ such...?”

With an effort, Oggin managed to take in a breath.

“Good morning Mammie...I was just fixing....trying to fix....your washing line...”

“Ah ken wit ye were tryin’ te dee...was yon fallin’ off no’a part o’ the plan then..?”

“No.....not as such...”

By this time three of the small children had come closer, to look down at prostrate Oggin, still holding his ladder and stared with a mix of concern and child like inquisitiveness.

“Will you do that again mister...?” asked the eldest.

“I hope not...it hurts....” replied Oggin with croaky voice.

Suddenly The Mammie’s voice rang out.

“Right...all youse weans git indoors the noo an’ leave the poor man te finish his work....Go on now...away we youse...”

Oggin raised his head to see the kids all scampering away but the eldest suddenly stopped and came back. She leaned close to Oggin and whispered.

“Mister...did you know you ain’t got no hairs on your legs...?”

“Yes...” replied Oggin, “yes...I do...”

Apparently satisfied with this answer, the girl skipped off the join the others.