A Cottage Industry

‘Most unusual leaf pattern,’ Jack agreed. ‘Quite unlike anything I’ve ever seen.’ He turned to his friend. ‘What are they?’
‘Not sure,’ Donald gently pulled a tiny weed from one of the pots. ‘Adam brought them back from a weekend away. Asked me if I’d grow them in the greenhouse for him.’ Donald started spraying the tomatoes. ‘Funny really, he didn’t show any signs of being green-fingered when he was growing up, so I was quite surprised when he gave me an envelope of seeds. I can see why he liked them though. Quite striking plants really.’
And they were. Now about six inches high, there were twelve plants altogether, on a tray at the far end of Donald’s orderly greenhouse. Still young green, their long angular leaves looked vaguely familiar, but Jack couldn’t for the life of him think what they were. ‘I’ve got some seeds left. I’ll give you a couple if you like.’ Donald fished in a drawer of the seed chest. ‘I’m sure he won’t mind.’
And so Jack sowed his handful of seeds and scoured his horticultural books over tea and digestives.
‘Can’t find them,’ he snapped the book shut. ‘Maybe they’ll give me a better idea when they flower.’ Doris, his wife nodded and moved the seed tray from the middle of the table.
‘I’ll put it on the windowsill upstairs,’ he told her. ‘When I’ve finished my tea.’
Over the next few weeks the seedlings appeared and then grew at a rapid rate. Jack went to Don’s to see how his plants were coming on.
‘They’re flowering,’ Don told him proudly as he led the way down the garden path. ‘When I told Adam he was over like a shot. Most unlike him to be so interested in gardening. Spent over an hour in here yesterday evening.’ They stopped in front of the plants. ‘Don’t know what he was doing,’ Don went on. ‘I left him to it. Anyway, my gardening program was on.’
Jack looked at the plants. They were quite bushy now, and sure enough, most of them were covered with tiny flowers. There was something about them that made him feel slightly uneasy. Perhaps it was the smell they seemed to emit. It was an odd, almost sweet smell that Jack wasn’t sure he liked.
When he got home, Jack went up to the spare bedroom, which was at the back of the house, and got the afternoon sun. He turned the six plants round so that they grew straight, and again noticed that smell. Why did it smell familiar? What on earth was it?
Jack got his answer three days later when his son, Nigel called after work. After eating together, Nigel went upstairs to look for some books he had left in his old room when he moved out. Within thirty seconds he was back downstairs, red in the face and breathless.
‘Dad!’ he almost shouted across the room.
‘What ever’s the matter?’ Jack put down his tea towel and left Doris still washing up. ‘What’s wrong?’ Now he was in the hallway, looking at his son’s excited expression.
‘Where did you get those plants upstairs?’
‘From Donald. Adam brought them back from holiday? Why, do you know what they are?’ At last, perhaps he was going to find out.
‘Too right I do. They’re cannabis plants. What the hell are you doing with cannabis plants in the spare room?’ Nigel turned and started walking back up the stairs. Looking through the door back into the kitchen to check Doris hadn’t heard, Jack followed him.
‘How do you know?’ he asked.
‘You see these things, Dad. You know, at Uni.’
Thinking quickly, Jack turned on his son. This was his chance to take the emphasis away from him.
‘We paid for your education so that you could spend the whole time growing cannabis?’
‘Calm down, Dad,’ this wasn’t going to work. Nigel laughed. ‘I didn’t grow the stuff, but there were quite a few who did. That’s how I know what it is.’ He picked one of the pots up and examined the plant carefully. ‘And if I’m not mistaken, you’ve got quite a few females here, which is good.’
‘Females?’ Jack was totally lost. What did that have to do with anything?
Nigel looked as though he was about to explain, then thought better of it. Instead he sighed,
‘Never mind, Dad. Just make sure you don’t get caught with them. My own dad growing cannabis. What is the world coming to?’ he laughed. ‘Give me a shout when you’re ready to harvest and I’ll come and sample the goods.’ Laughing loudly, Nigel descended the stairs. Jack shut the door to the spare room and followed slowly, deep in thought.
‘So now you know,’ Jack finished his tale and waited for Donald’s reaction. To his surprise, the response was not one of disbelief, but of amusement.
‘The cheeky so and so. No wonder he asked me to grow it. Who would suspect a pensioner of growing illegal substances?’ He stood back and admired his rows of plants. ‘We could be on to something here. Are you in?’
Was he? Jack had never broken the law in his life, and at the age of sixty-three he wasn’t about to start. Or was he? After all he already had. He had the plants growing in his spare room didn’t he? Maybe it was time to take a gamble. Time for a bit of excitement.
‘Ok,’ Jack agreed slowly. ‘Where do we take it from here?’
Donald and Jack decided they would split the profits three ways with Adam. After all they were the ones taking the risks. More seeds were sown and more plants cultivated. Jack spent hours on the Internet, learning how to care for and harvest their crop. Doris never suspected a thing. She was glad he was taking such an interest in his gardening. It gave her more time to spend at the local hospice, where she was a volunteer.
‘So, Adam has set up the website,’ Donald told him several weeks later. ‘It looks as though we’re in business.’ He looked down the rows of cannabis plants. The whole greenhouse was now devoted to them, and it was no ordinary greenhouse. Donald’s greenhouse was at least three times the size of ordinary domestic ones and every available surface was covered with pots of plants.
The plants in Jack’s room had multiplied too. Between them they had an excellent crop, and through their research they reckoned they were onto a winner. And they probably would have been.
It was such a shame that the neighbourhood was suffering a spate of local burglaries. It was even more of a shame that PC Mckay was asked to call door to door to ask the local residents if they had seen or heard anything suspicious.
If Donald had been in the house that morning his little hobby wouldn’t have been discovered, but, being such a friendly neighbourhood, PC Mckay had wandered round the back to see if there was anyone in the garden, seeing as it was such a lovely day.
Poor Donald. He had gone sixty-three years without a criminal record. And he had known Jack for fifty-eight of those years. Right from their first day at school. Would it be fair to tell the police about their little industry? He couldn’t implicate his son. Adam had too much life ahead of him. But then why should he carry the can? They were all in this together. Jack knew the risks.
Donald took his turn in front of the Magistrates, looking suitably ashamed. He apologised for growing the plants and swore he would never repeat his mistake, then he and Jack left the courthouse.
As they rounded the corner into the carpark it started to spit with rain. They made a mad dash to Donald’s car and made it just as the heavens opened.
Donald turned the key in the ignition.
‘Right then.’ He turned to Jack with a gleam in his eye. ‘Back to your house to harvest the crop.’