The Naked Gardener

The Naked Gardener
Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann / Unsplash

I wasn't really listening. The girls can get quite raunchy over Friday drinks and I tend to tune out, but I did hear 'gardener'.

'I need someone to do my lawn,' I said. 'Can I have his number?'

I didn't see why they thought it so hilarious. Cheryl thumbed through her phone and texted the number to me.

He turned up promptly, for which I was grateful. I'd been let down several times till the lawn had become a wildflower meadow, if dandelions and soldier heads count as flowers. He was wearing a full boiler suit which seemed overdressed for the summer weather so I wasn't surprised that he had the zip at half-mast.

I went inside as he started his line trimmer.

By time his power tools fell silent, the top of the suit was off, its sleeves tied round his waist. I looked round the door and he said, 'I'll put the mower away and bring an invoice.'

He came back, his tanned skin glistening with sweat, and handed me a slip of paper. By now the overall barely clung to his hips and he didn't seem to be wearing much underneath.

'All good?' he asked.


He tilted his head at the transformed lawn.

'Oh, it looks great,' I said.

He grinned. 'Back in a fortnight then.'

I nodded and shut the door.

I looked at the slip of paper. The price was reasonable. At the top a stamped logo announced: 'The Naked Gardener.'

The penny dropped. So that's why the girls were laughing.

I picked up my phone and sent a text.

'Thanks Gardener. Payment through now. But don't come back. Tess'

When Kathy got home from work she noticed the improvement straight away and gave me a hug.

'Well done, Love, you cracked it. You found someone who will actually turn up. Will he do it regularly?'

'He would have, but I said no.'

She held me at arms' length to give me a puzzled look. 'Whyever not?'

I showed her the invoice and told her how it seemed a good description of him.

'I don't think he's quite what we're looking for.'