Short Story - Bertie’s Brambles

Bertie’s Brambles

By Jackie Brewster

“Of course I’ll help you Uncle Bertie.” Alan scratched his head at the sight in front of him. “But why did you think it was a good idea to tackle the brambles in your birthday suit?” “Is it Naked Gardening Day?” Connie asked, leaning on the fence. “I’m not in my birthday suit.” Bertie winced as a delicate part of his anatomy came into contact with a thorn. “I’m wearing my bathers.” Bertie and Connie had been neighbours for decades, so when Alan saw three missed calls from Connie he rushed straight round to check on his uncle. He hadn’t expected to find Bertie semi-naked and trapped waist-deep in the brambles at the end of his garden. “Connie’s been nagging me to hack these back,” Bertie explained. “But the more I lopped them back the more they grew around me.” “Surely some protective clothing would have been a good idea?” Alan said. “Or any sort of clothing?” “Well you know how it is when you’re gardening,” Bertie explained. “One job leads to another, and the next thing you know you’re stuck in the brambles.” Alan shook his head in despair. “No one was supposed to find me like this anyway,” Bertie said defensively. “How was I to know Connie would come back from her sister’s early?” “It’s a good job I did,” Connie said. “Otherwise you could have been trapped there all afternoon.” “Have you got any secateurs?” Alan sighed, thinking of all the things he’d rather be doing on this To advertise in The Villager and Town Life please call 01767 261122

beautiful afternoon. “I’ll have to cut a path through to you.” “You can borrow mine, and here, wear these gardening gloves.” Connie passed a pair over the fence. “And have a look for ripe blackberries while you’re at it, I’ve a mind to make a crumble.” “I’ve been eating them while I’ve been standing here,” Bertie said. “They’re proper juicy.” “I’ll get Alan to pass you a Tupperware,” Connie said. “Hold on, I’ll go and get one.” “No one’s picking blackberries until we get Bertie out,” Alan said hotly, hacking away. “Stay put Bertie and don’t try to move.” “I’ve got cramp in my leg anyway,” Bertie complained, “so I’m not going anywhere.” “Alright, hold on, I’m nearly there.” Alan cursed under his breath as he dragged the brambles out of the way. Where he could he stamped them down under his boots. After ten unpleasant minutes he felt he’d made some progress. “Do you think you’ve got enough room to get out now?” “I’ll have a go,” Bertie said. “Connie, look away now if you’re squeamish.” “Why, Bertie? Are you horribly injured?” Connie clasped her hand over her mouth. “Should I fetch the Savlon?” “No ducky, just a couple of scratches, I’m tough as old boots,” Bertie said. “It’s just... you know I said I was wearing my bathing suit?” “Yes?” Connie asked. “Well,” Bertie blushed, “I lied.”

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