Brodie's Big Idea

 

‘I’m really impressed with what you’ve done in the garden, Brodie.’

 

Brodie flicked his oily hair and blinked, he didn’t like compliments. He already knew he had the best garden in town but that was mostly due to its bare bones; the established Cedars, the Yew hedging and the stunning view of the old town from the elevated terrace. All he had to do was a bit of clearance and pruning, drop a few perennials into the loamy, easy-to-work-with soil, a bit of repetition here and there, a statue of a mossy forlorn lady, the effect was enchanting. 

 

The townies were always most impressed, they thought it was unearthly magic because they had no real understanding of pure earthliness and the magic which naturally accompanies it. 

 

‘Well I’m very lucky to live here. Now would you like to come inside and have one last cup of tea before you catch your train?’

 

‘Yes I would love that very much. And what a boon it is to have your own railway station.’

 

‘I know, Clive, I know. If you’ve the money for a ticket then you can get to most places from here, not quickly but you’ll get there,’ he said as he wiped his feet energetically on the doormat, jumping with both feet forward then pulling back on his heels. 

 

Clive watched, slightly embarrassed by this eccentric form of shoe wiping, he calmly removed his shoes and dropped them just outside the door. The house had a smell of old wood, damp fabric and sort of fruity note, perhaps from cooking or storing apples, it wasn’t unpleasant, it felt nurturing, healthy. 

 

The history of the property was colourful, it had been a school, a hospital, inhabited by artists, divided into three and then back into a single dwelling. Brodie had acquired it for less money than the sum of its parts, all that land, the stonework and wonderful features inside. It was a beautiful, impractical money pit but made for a lovely place to visit.

 

It occurred to Clive that there was one door downstairs that he had never opened, one room which he had not been allowed into. It was strange given that Brodie had been excited to show him every inch of the house, the hidden staircase, the old wine cellars, the loft with its rotten beams, even the wonderful pantry lined with jars of pickled onions and Barry’s Tea.

 

Perhaps it was just a storage area but he had a feeling it was a proper room, the dimensions, the gap between the two adjoining spaces was large. He’d had a thorough tour around the property, both on his first visit and again, on a subsequent visit with another friend but both times, Brodie had deliberately swerved that particular room.  

 

Being a thoroughly nosy guy, it began to play on Clive’s mind but he was aware that his friend, Brodie could get funny, defensive at times, protective of certain things and he had to tread carefully around him. He hung around in the vast hall, listening to the sounds of his friend pulling china cups and saucers out of the cupboards. Brodie loved his old china cups and saucers, the mismatched floral designs, the little hairline cracks. 

 

‘Don’t loiter there in the hall. Will you enter the kitchen and join me?’ Brodie shouted, ‘The tea is brewing in a pot. It’s got three and a half minutes until I dispatch it from pot to cups.’

 

‘Oh, I’m just enjoying your beautiful hall. I don’t often get to linger in this room. You have a wonderful view of the Cedars from here,’ Clive said but his eyes were fixed on the brass door knob of that secret room. 

 

He took a few steps towards it but the floorboards creaked in such a suspicious way that it exposed his stealthy behaviour. The house was not going to protect him, it was loyal to Brodie. Aware that time was ticking and this would probably be his last chance to look inside before catching his train, Clive’s heart began to beat quickly with anticipation. He had to look inside now.

 

He was a short man but fortunately his arms were disproportionately long, he reached out, wrapped his stubby fingers around the doorknob and pulled. At first it stuck, he pulled harder and it flung open with a sort of popping sound, almost as if some mysterious vacuum had been broken. It was just an empty room, as beautiful as the others, high ceiling, cornices, shutters open, a dusty chandelier but nothing at all on the floor.

 

‘What on earth are you doing? Shut that door immediately!’

 

Clive jumped out of his skin as Brodie, who was a giant of a man, shoved past him, placed his massive hand over the door handle and pulled it shut with a slam.

 

‘I’m so sorry. I just released you’d missed that room out….on our tours.’ Clive said carefully.

 

‘What in the name of..’ Brodie did a sort of dance in the hallway, stamping his foot and flailing his arms, exposing the shirt under the holes in the elbows on his old knitted jumper, exposing his mustard coloured socks as he lifted his legs. The display lasted for about thirty seconds until he stopped and looked ashamed, panting and tidying his hair.

 

Clive found himself chuckling. ‘But Brodie, there’s nothing in there.’

 

‘Come and drink your tea, come on, we’ll forget about all of this, come and drink your tea now.’

 

Clive followed him to the kitchen where the AGA had heated the air and it was cosy like a warm hug. ‘I can’t forget about it if there was nothing to forget. The room was empty, Brodie. Are you saving it for something nice?’

 

Brodie poured the tea. He checked his watch. ‘We’ve over-stewed,’ he said, ‘nearly a minute too long.’

 

 

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine..and I’m sorry about the room. I couldn’t help myself, I’m nosy and I’ve got no self control. I’ve always been the same, it’s my weakness.’

 

‘Well, I just hope it hasn’t escaped, that’s all,’ Brodie said as he dropped two sugar cubes into his tea cup, causing a little bit of splash.

 

Clive looked up, puzzled. ‘What, what hasn’t escaped?’

 

‘My idea,’ he licked his lips and looked away, embarrassed perhaps but angry too. ‘I hope my idea hasn’t escaped.’ He clenched his fists and then slowly released them, laying his fingers on the table.

 

‘You idea? My dear friend, ideas live in your head, they can’t escape.’

 

‘Clive, I’m getting older. Things have been escaping from my head, increasingly and I had this idea..’

 

‘You’ve always been full of brilliant ideas.’

 

‘Yes. Well I had this idea and it was a big idea, it still is. It was so big that I couldn’t keep it in my head because it made my ears burst so I set aside a room, I emptied the room to make way, to accommodate my big idea and I set it down in there, inside that room. I let in the sun to keep the idea alive, to feed it. I was planning to get a lock for the door but I have to be careful here, with the listing, I can’t be messing about with the original features.’

 

Clive swigged back his tea. He paused for a while to consider his response. ‘Brodie, the door was open for a second at most. If your idea was as big as you say..’

 

‘Oh it was,’ said Brodie, nodding so that his oily hair bounced up and down, ‘I mean it is.’

 

‘Then there is no way there was enough allocation of time for the idea to have escaped. And anyway, if it had escaped and it was as big as you say, then we would now be feeling the gravity of it inside the house…and I can’t, can you?’

 

Brodie’s eyes widened and looked left and right, his shoulders moved up and down a few times. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I feel nothing.’

 

‘Well there you are then, Your big idea is safe. Now I need to go and catch my train.’

 

‘Okay, okay my friend. Thanks for visiting again.’

 

‘It was a pleasure. Now you keep nurturing that idea and I will come and see you again in the spring.’

 

‘Oh I hope to have it ready for release then.’

 

‘Well then I look forward to seeing the results,’ said Clive as he attached his shoes to his feet.

 

The two men shook hands. Brodie pulled the huge front door shut and shuffled back to the kitchen to dwell upon his big idea.